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Avatar image for supreme_chancellor
#1 Posted by Supreme_Chancellor (1278 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided

For months, the metahuman conflict had been relatively peaceful -- In comparison to it's tragic history.

All, however, until the NGod's flew into the limelight and reignited the flames of war.

Weapon X knew it was an obvious inevitability until these so called "Gods" wrecked havoc upon the world in spectacular fashion.

It would be a cataclysm of death for mutant and humans alike.

If a stronghold like the mighty Venezuela was unable to deter these False God's, what would the Registration Act do? The Devil's Heir, since the events of the NGod attack on his home country, saw clarity. To keep mutant kind safe; it could no longer rely upon simple brute force nor human intervention in the form of legislated law. It would need to provide both for it's people and Iceland, a functional dictatorship, would serve as the perfect platform for his machinations.

Iceland was no democracy. It had no abundance of civilians, no peaceful populace. It was a military state. Internationally, regarded as no better than North Korea or some Middle Eastern cesspit of militarized marshal law. The only difference here, however, was that Iceland held an abundance of weapons of mass, arguably planetary destruction.

There would be no heroes defending Iceland out of blind heroism and a sense of good morality. Why would they? This invasion was as much a liberation as it was conquering, Weapon X intended to demilitarize the country and establish an international convention for mutant kind - A mutant council, the mutant counterpart to the United Nations.

Alongside him, was the United States of America.

For too long had the U.S been seen as weak, simply baring the brunt of terror attack after terror attack.

No more.

Iceland was an immediate; direct, and utterly dangerous nation. They were rumored to have helped enemies of the Unites States brainwash hundreds of thousands of US citizens prior to kidnap, flaunted and hovered weapons of weapons of destruction over the United States, and even had the audacity to assisted in the escape of a known terrorist from US custody.

There was no legal challenge to this war.

No protesting for peace.

Iceland would be conquered.

It was only a matter of time.
It was only a matter of time.

One mile from the Stratospheric Energy Dome

The S.E.D protected Icelandic airspace from unauthorized access, projecting a massive particle field over the country. Rather than be powered by orbital satellites, the S.E.D.'s projectors are located within the country itself, a total of ten nodes projecting constant streams of energy to maintain atmospheric control. The Unsung King looked towards the dome, feeling the energy projecting itself across of the entire country. Slowly, Weapon X looked back towards his warriors, allies, brothers and sisters, knowing that all of them had entrusted him this day. It was a burden he would not take lightly. Nor, forget. If victory was accomplished, X pledged to himself to rewarded each and every ally nigh-anything requested.

But for now, he would have to win the war.

Telepathically, X spoke to a select few of his allies. His voice projected into their minds. @fraga, @_envy_, @clara_mass and finally @alpha_dog.

"Stay with me throughout the battle, until I order otherwise. Undoubtedly much resistance will be encountered and I cannot be held back in petty battles; I must find and kill their leader myself." His gaze then shift to a few other members, firstly speaking to Cassius as he telepathically shifted words. "Soldier, make yourself known. I fear an old friend of mine will attempt to stop me today -- His name is not important, but know if seen, you will notably be a target. Attempt to make that a reality and distract him. Prior to that my friend, reign hellfire upon our enemies." Silently, he spoke to @femme_finale. "If I am unable to destroy the energy dome from within; you must look within yourself and use the power I know you have. Absorb all of the S.E.D energy and render it useless. Their power is finite, yours, infinite."

The rest of his allies would be able to go about the invasion however they pleased, knowing they had the support of both @maverick_6 and the Unites States of America. Wherever they were; help would not be far away.... X could feel it, the metal of the US Military, Navy and Air-force encircling the country, waiting like eager lions to pounce upon it's prey.

No Caption Provided

Swiftly, the Unsung King outstretched his palm and locked onto the ten nodes projecting the S.E.D into existence, they were made of metal thus subject to his will.

With a clench of his fist, the Prince of Darkness sought to deliver destruction to the nodes controlling the S.E.D, causing them to fold in upon themselves like a tin can before violently exploding.

It it had succeeded, there would be no warning. No resistance. Simply, the dome would cease to protect it's domain.

And just like that; the war would begin.

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#2 Edited by Hound_of_War (3944 posts) - - Show Bio

Julian had prepared with obsessive behavior since even before he had prepared to destroy Iceland, their entire regime was funded under the idea that it was a U.S government operation gone wrong. It should not be a surprise that they have taken pride in their main pastime being burning the American flag and defiling blowup dolls that looked the statue of liberty.

“I want those of you that can fly to take the fight as far as way from the ground as possible. Fight the fleets off. Those of you that have super speed, I want you to blitz the forces and overwhelm them. Everyone else is with me.”

No Caption Provided

After the accident in space, Stark had so kindly provided Julian a new suit out of the kindness of his heart to make up for the physical damage he had inflicted on the Ex-Knightfall Patriarch, or at least that is what he intended on selling him.

‘Gathering forces together to take down Iceland was easy. Surprisingly, not many civilians like the idea of having weapons of mass destruction pointed at them by a foreign power. Even foreign heroes lent their hand, afraid that their countries could be next should we fail. We won’t, but I can understand the sentiment.’

A small, yellow and rectangular shape opened from the top of the sky and then immensely extended, releasing a horde of costume heroes into the border of the city. The S.E.D could protect Iceland from projectiles unconditionally, they would have to hold off the defenders long enough for the plan to bring down the shields to work.

Not that it would be difficult considering the people behind him and the ones who were heading his way. The heroes of yesterday and tomorrow, Maverick’s assault force, and Venezuelan forces. Whatever hope they had of defeating the modern day Triumvirate had surely up and vanished with the sheer number of people that they had gathered alone.

Julian turned towards the crowd behind him.

“I want all of you to remember today. Pay attention to as many details as possible. The sounds that the bullets make as they rip through the air, the smell of blood and dirt, and start re-telling yourself the events that just happened after this is all over and we are being carried away. Because that story is the same story that you will be telling your children and grandchildren for the next century, the one that will go into documentaries. Start practicing now, because this is how the story of when we liberated a country plagued by thought slaves under the false premise of a utopia starts. It’s how we closed the gap between the meta-human community and showed them how we are not just reckless idiots in costumes. How we made them remember that heroes still exist and they don’t need to call themselves “gods” to mean something. Let’s give our people a day to remember and our enemies a day they wish they could forget.”

Miles Away

Donn’s CIA elite, the faceless men, a group of highly trained soldiers ready to fight wherever, whenever, at whatever circumstances were thrown at them had been given specific orders. They were to enact guerrilla tactics on the troops while the heroes took a more direct approach.

Once the front line of ground troops would show their cowardly faces, a squadron of A-10 Fairchild Thunderbolts would deploy bombs below and quickly proceed to head back, avoiding as much direct combat as possible.

The second squadron of F-72 Phantom was there as to fight the air fleets, though they would not be noticed due to their omni-cloaking capabilities until the enemy did. Once that were to happen, the forces would fire their primary armament of HV Ammunition at their fleet.

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#3 Posted by Lichter (5808 posts) - - Show Bio

Aboard the USS Exemplar

Klaus sat aboard the bridge of one of the many battleships that were approaching Iceland, casually rotating his knife around as the relatively tiny jet hovered closer to the Rogue Nation. The silver blade flitted between his gloved fingers, a weapon practically lighter than air flipping between digits like a coin. Standing, he flicked the knife back into its holster simply by passing his hand over it, the weapon sliding back in without so much as a sound.

The vessel cut a swath through the waters as they approached, cold steel gun barrels trained on the shore far away. Once the dome collapsed, they would open fire, but their targets had yet to be determined. The battleship was by no means notable, though, when compared to the brunt of their forces; he relied on the enemy commander's being too preoccupied with the aerial onslaught to divert fire towards the ocean. After all, to split one's forces taking on a threat from the sea would be to expose one's self to the rain of fire from the sky. And with Maverick Incorporated involved, they'd be dealing with a threat on all fronts.

They could probably do this alone, he thought, but kept the notion to himself. He stood within the command bridge, surrounded by activity. There were those who paused to look at him, the purple-clad CIA Director whose silent authority emanated through the cabin. They'd look, and he'd quietly look back. They'd then recommence their duties.

He had something a little different in mind for this invasion, as the combined forces of Donn and their mysterious mutant ally would be more than enough to handle anything Iceland could reasonably throw at them. No, he'd seek to engage the opposition on a different front, once their defenses had been sufficiently breached. Personally engaging the brunt of the enemy infantry would be inefficient, as they had forces who could devastate entire squads without so much as lifting a finger. As it always had been, Klaus' strength was in personally eliminating single targets. He neutralized champions, not armies.

He tightened his glove, tugging at the back and pulling it down further onto his hand. Opportunity would afford itself soon, once the command ship had been isolated and damaged. Had he the chance, he'd board the ship itself, and eliminate Iceland's commanding officer, assuming he survived the lethal opening salvo.

They always do. The first strike is never enough, he thought, smiling behind the magenta cowl.

And so, Lichter shall always strike last.
And so, Lichter shall always strike last.

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#4 Posted by Cassius_Knightfall (12577 posts) - - Show Bio

There was only the mission. Command and response. No sooner had he been told than he walked to the armory gathered his weapons and his equipment and set off. His goal clear and simple Destruction. Positioned outside of Iceland's infamous defensive line the living weapon had already assessed and determined the best route forward. to the shore. Simple solutions came easy as if hardwired into the depths of his mind, as if they had come as part of his mission briefing. Why go through something he could go under. Adding a breathing apparatus he dove into the water, the bitter cold instantly taking hold but his inhuman advancements allowing both temperature and even the weight of be of little problem providing he swam quickly. It would be a difficult swim against strong tidal waters starting from open sea and he would most certainly expend a lot of energy in doing so. But in the depths of the sea he would be unsighted and that would aid in following command.

Five minutes of ice cold water and the darkness of the sub aquatic followed his pace relentless as he approached the shore, Pulling off his rebreather as his foot touched the first grains of volcanic sand under boot. Moving with haste from the water to the nearest tree line. Iceland had always been sparsely populated and it appeared he was fortunate to hit land in a place with little but nature and the distant glow of a small hamlet. This would not do he would have to find a more prominent location before he could make his presence known. Running quickly as much to warm himself from the cold water that still dripped from his hair as to move forward he came across a house. Pulling his knife from its holster and spinning it in his hand as he entered. Finding only silence and a set of keys. The silence suddenly drowned in the thick throaty growl of a V8 engine. Turning towards it moving like a shadow he coiled as he moved around every corner ready to spring, lethal unrelenting.

Movement, one older man tinkering under the red hood of a classic American muscle car. That instant causing a flash in his mind "Tis not subtle hermano" something within flickering to the surface an error in the code of the machine of war. Momentary pausing him the red mist parting before slamming closed once more. His knife sparkled like a falling star as it collided with the meat of the mans neck. The stars tail a cascading pulse of crimson. Discarding the fallen casualty the mechanical mercenary stepped into the drivers seat and roared the engine. Pulling out a map looking at the 10 highlighted points. Nearest one was fifteen miles away. Flooring it as the engines deep metallic scream roared over the silence of the countryside. First he would find the nearest city then he would punch a hole in their defences from within.

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#5 Edited by femme_finale (42 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided

Weapon Q stood silently beside the man who had freed her from her metallic bonds. Her body had returned to her usual state, her body slender and pale, blonde hair flickering untamed in the cool air. Her green eyes surveyed the watery horizon. Finally, Iceland came into view. Her lip pulled into a sadistic grin. This would be the first people to fall. The imminent threat would become rubble, their weapons destroyed. So much faith in machines. They will be destroyed by the Unsung King and the nations populous decimated by the fires of war.

The Lady Apocalypse, still coming into her own role of annihilation, balled her hand into a fist as her orders were given.

“If I am unable to destroy the energy dome from within, you must look within yourself and use the the power I know you have. Absorb the S.E.D energy and render it useless. Their power is finite, yours: infinite.”

Her lip curled into a snarl. “It will be done.”

Ushered to the island by X along with his allies, she could feel the unique energy signature emanating from the shield. Her peridot eyes glittered hungrily. Delicious. It was strong, it would provide ample sustenance for the energy devourer. And that didn’t even include all energy coursing though the high-tech country. Her hand trembled in anticipation, reaching out to siphon the shield into herself. Should she succeed, the S.E.D would be drained, allowing the army to engage their targets, her body growing larger and glowing green.

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#6 Posted by Ziccarra_Liafador (802 posts) - - Show Bio

Northern Africa, Morocco

No Caption Provided

On the eve of what some believed was the start of a bloody war, the unaffected indulged in fancy galas and other activities that kept the criminal underworld churning. Here, she experienced the other side of things. Not the war prep, not the pep talks; not even the last hours soldiers would spend with their families--here she saw the paper trail. She saw corrupt politicians accepting bribes, she saw European Financiers celebrating the unique position of being able to fund both sides of the war. She saw the problem with the world. Though, she couldn't judge in her tenure as the Spanish Prime Minister; she allied herself with Valerie Huntington and the Hellfire Club and did basically the same thing. They were all criminals, there was no such thing as a criminal with a conscious.

But just what was she doing here? Surely former Spanish Dictator wasn't welcomed to such a political get together, well she wasn't. Because of the severe Age loss on her she was hardly recognizable, this allowed her to move about the distinguished guest without being hindered by her past. Adorned in a magnificent tight cutout LBD by David Koma, Ziccarra push through the guest looking for one person in particular--His name Charlie Chase.

Back when Solace City, came into being Ziccarra and Liafador International funded the charter. When she rose to the Spanish seat of power, she relinquished the company to him. He was the sole owner of her family's company and the man who funded her initial rise to the top. If there was one person in here, who recognized the 27 year old Ziccarra Liafador--it was him. He was an old friend of her parents, when she returned from the dead, he ensured both Z and Catalina were well off.--He could be trusted.

"Charles, you look handsome" Ziccarra complimented, swiping a piece of lint from his suit. "Thanks M'dear, you look elegant as always. You're not still with Alexis are you, I'd hate to disrespect" He continued, handing Ziccarra a glass of Dom Perignon. "We're engaged again darling, but we're taking things slow." She responded, before moving intimately close. To anyone else, this looked like a simple moment between woman and man taking in intimacy, but to the well trained eye this was a transaction.

"Why is it so small?" She murmured, taking a sip of her drink, but paying close attention to who was paying attention to her. "That little friend of yours, you know the fine little black chick. She digitized it for me. Of course she didn't know what it was at the time."

Ashley? of course she knew what it was, this item had plagued so many armies over the years. It was part of the reason the Cardinal rose as a religion in Tibet. "She knew what it was Charles, she is just playing a game. I need to make sure she does not have us in check."

Placing a kiss on his cheek, Ziccarra made a move toward the door, when she noticed she was being watched. "Charles you need to leave right now..." She whispered, whilst pushing toward the entrance of the door. Casually dancing through the crowd, Ziccarra heard it...the thunder. "No...not now..." She whispered making haste to the door. As she opened the door a guard grabbed her wrist leaving a bruise. "You shouldn't have done that...." the innocence she hosted faded away. BOOM. Searing the sky on its path, the ionized energy slammed into Ziccarra’s lithe frame, rising in druid fashion, her body spun around full of incandescent heat the result—The Goddess. Her pricey Louboutin's replaced by her crimson Cardinal Boots.

"The Goddess!"

"The Goddess!" The man screamed, but with inexplicable speed, the Malagan Marchioness moved elegantly across the ballroom striking down those that intended to do her harm. Launching her shield at a gunman, she turned back in Charlie's direction with a simple head nod directing him out of the party.

"You know...people are going to know you're back."

"Let them come.

Off the Coast of Iceland

No Caption Provided

She could feel them beating, the drums of war. The Goddess was under the impression that there was only oneNu God, her husband Alexis Pettis; but apparently she was wrong. She'd watch tensions between these two factions rise for some time now, but memories of what happened to Venezuela post-Liafador era burned heavy in her mind. She was presented with a harsh choice--topple a dictator or assist a terrorist.

As a former dictator herself, she knew the problems a terrorist could present to a nation, with that her choice made. Removing the small digitized device; a small light flicker the Legendary Mask of Cortez rest in her hands. "Tis good to see you too darling" She murmured. The mask in itself was a powerful artifact, capable of employing layered like-like illusion, with each layer construct the difficulty of shattering such an illusion increased. Ziccarra didn't need to confuse the major players--no she needed to confuse the grunts. Enhancing the effects of her mask with her own psionic energy, Ziccarra sought to change all the armed forces and civilians to the same uniform. @maverick_6@supreme_chancellor@hound_of_war

Finally, she saw what she was looking for, moving swiftly but hardly notable to the untrained eye. In fact, even her goddess senses nearly missed it. Balling her fist, her potent psionic energy surged through her finger tips; and like thunderous artillery strikes she fired them at the side of her target to snag it's attention.

She was a woman who could topple entire armies on her own, but today she had one man in sight. Flying from her makeshift paddle boat to the massive warship, The Goddess landed with Cardinal Runes burning through the surface of the vessel. Out from the confides of her shield, she rose. @lichter

"Cowards Die Many times before their death..."

She said, launching herself as the presumed commander, and ally of The Supreme Chancellor, with her sword intending to fake a high sword strike, before maneuvering with her shield at the last second, bringing it crashing toward his temple.

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#7 Posted by LunaHawk (1528 posts) - - Show Bio

@hound_of_war: @_vex_

I stood close to Julian, not for any fondness of the man but because as the leader of a foreign military now involved in this egnagement I stood at the side of an ally. I cradled my helmet in one hand and listened but my thoughts were farther away. Rook's secret was still safe, though the President was now aware that it was Alexander Rook who was dating not one but two Hawk Lords, it was sort of impossible to keep such things secret when you lived that close to someone. We were able to keep it from the media, it was supposed to be Dark Vengeance, not Rook, who had two Hawk Lords as lovers. I sighed a little, remembering for a moment the argument we'd had before I left. Solar Hawk was almost ready to return to the field, having given birth to their child, but she wasn't quite ready yet mentally. Right now, she was still concerned with making sure the child was safe. Soon though she would take over her role as general of Amun-Ra's forces.

The argument hadn't been with her though, it had been with Alexander and as far as arguments go I'd certainly had worse. He didn't agree with this operation and he didn't want me to go. I had to explain to him that our mutual desires had little to do with this operation. My god commanded me to go, so I went. Amun-Ra wanted closer relations with the United States and I was beginning to suspect I knew why. The Hawk Lord Legion was back, Amun-Ra grew restless with the chaos of the world that he had once kept largely in check for so long. I unfortunately am beginning to believe that he seeks to restore his power over the world and he's learned none of the lessons myself and Solar Hawk have tried to teach him about modern societies. I know that if he can garner favor with the United States than an attempted take over of Egypt will be...overlooked.

I close my eyes and shake my head. I hate what Egypt has become, but reform must be brought about in the right way and not by force. People today will not believe Amun-Ra a true god. As for me...I glance to the sky where I know the other Hawk Lords are waiting out of everyone's sight and then back toward Iceland. The Legion will follow Amun-Ra...I...don't know if I can when the time comes, not in good faith. Alexander has done so much for me, he saved me from myself, he taught me that though I can't feel love again, I can live again. I can't betray him like that. I won't betray him like that. I must speak with Amun-Ra with Solar Hawk at my side when this operation is over...unfortunately I'm certain our words will fall on deaf ears.

"I told you Thanagar was at your side." I tell Julian finally. "Let me show you the meaning of my words, you will fight in the shade."

No Caption Provided

I pull my helmet on, lick my lips and unleash a cry that I have no had to use in thousands of years. The cry is simple, an ear piercing feral hawk scream that if pitched any higher would cause permanent hearing damage to humans. The scream carries through the air, amplified by my helmet and Thanagar moves to war. From the clouds come the Legion of Thanagar, Amun-Ra's personal army of god engineered warriors. Humans have forgotten this sight, it has not flown since the fall of Egypt to Alexander. They will remember again.

No Caption Provided

There are enough of us to shadow the ground from the sun.

I turn my head and look to Julian again. "Make this worth it." I Tell him and take flight, I wait until I'm clear enough of the deck to really engage my speed, suddenly and without warning breaching the sound barrier with a series of successive and rapid fire sonic booms as I use the Hawk Lord trait of rapid acceleration to join the Legion and prepare for a war for the sky. The entire flight I can't help but think of the future...I had thought seeing the Hawk Lords return would have filled me with pride when it happened months ago...but I didn't feel pride...because after Greece I realized that Amun-Ra can't cope with the world the way it is. One day, one day soon, the Legion will split and Hawk Lord shall fight Hawk Lord...I feel few of us will survive and once again there will be only a few to carry on the legacy...and if all goes according to plan, Amun-Ra will once again join his fellow Egyptian gods in prison. It is a fact that I hate...because I love Amun-Ra, but I can't go on pretending this is the ancient world anymore. I can't shed the blood I am built to protect because my god can't see the forest for the trees.

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

The United States working with the Republic of Venezuela? If God were a comedian then this moment would be his punchline. That being said, Miss Pierce would be remiss to say she wasn't the least bit jealous. Her former position as the President of the USA was prematurely cut short against her own volition and she believed the ambiance of this evening's glorious crusade would be wasted on her home's newest mascot.

Nonetheless, she came along for the ride. It wasn't her choice, but having a choice wasn't an option. That same lack of incentive left her alone to her own devices inside the aircraft. Her solitude left her to think thoughts dating back to the day she once visited a different super powered nation with a different type of psychopath.

The screams of thousands of mutants dying still haunted her dreams till this day. This time, however, she traveled with a companion who despised anyone that wasn't a mutant. The irony wasn't lost on her. Every other moment she'd turn to listen to him speak, her piercing violet eyes focused like daggers each time they locked on his, both impressed by his sense of leadership and his stupidity to not understand she could kill him where he stood.

Why didn't she? The looming threat of her son's livelihood was enough to keep her tamed, but the prospect of overthrowing Iceland meant an opportunity at power she couldn't possibly ignore. So, Miss Pierce comfortably stood by her lonesome, ignoring any looks she might receive from anyone that might have known who she really was.

"X, are we ready or not?" It was a precarious predicament, she knew it so. Yet, it wouldn't stop her from doing what she needed to do. Survive and conquer. With that in mind, rather than wait to be treated like his minion, Miss Pierce took initiative and purposely tried to set herself apart from his other allies.

"I'm your best shot at getting this done. So, please give it to me straight." Genetically gifted telepathy, telekinesis, and reality manipulation encapsulated Miss Pierce's entire being. She could create and destroy, at the expense of her own life force, but she could go with the likes of New Gods if she needed to. Her alluding to these gifts acted as a reaffirmation of her own confidence as well as the simple fact of letting everyone know she wasn't the one to mess with.

"What do I need to do?"

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#9 Posted by Hadrian_Knightfall (196 posts) - - Show Bio


The dome fell in minutes, from the combined forces of the mutant heroes's abilities. But in the time it took for them to bring it down, Hadrian gave orders. The fleet already hovered over Reykjavik, ready to rain fire upon the allied forces of the World Police America had taken upon itself to be. He began playing the set of songs he had sarcastically titled "Invasion Playlist," and the myriad of strange noises that marked the beginning of "Ivan meets G.I. Joe" began emanating from his ship's office's speakers. It wasn't completely accurate, but it would serve to set the mood.

Anti-teleportation fields were already in effect, preventing speedy access to the island, but as the field projectors crumpled, a report appeared. It appeared that the leader of the coalition forces gathered at Hadrian's doorstep possessed command over magnetism. There were other explanations, of course, but analysis of his flight movements and use of his powers made that the most likely scenario. They had planned for this. The entire fleet was equipped with polarity-reversing devices, which would shift the magnetic polarity of the entire craft every two seconds, making manipulating them impossible.

Hadrian absentmindedly fingered his blade, and began assigning targets.


Kanos' forces were assigned to destroy the small armada of planes sent by the new President, as well as cover the infantry, when it was deployed. As of now, however, the only visible craft, or visible anything, really, was the four capital ships above the Reykjavik skyline, and the thousands of smaller craft pouring out of their fighter bays.

No Caption Provided

Kanos shifted six squads of fifteen men towards the planes Donn had assigned to the front lines, headed by Gold Team. They would engage in about a minute, firing bolts of plasma that would rip through the metal of the enemy craft. Meanwhile, the capital ship's cannons began to lock onto the enemy, and fired five blasts of green energy, capable of destroying homes with a single shot, at X.

Gold Teams's leader was not with the rest of his squad. Instead, he had been ordered to forgo his ship altogether, and take out individual planes before assisting his team. He first targeted the plane that held, unbeknownst to him, former POTUS Pierce. He flew on his own power, metahuman ability to project rocketlike explosions from his body sooting him at the craft, which he would attempt to blow apart with a similar explosion generated form his hand.


No Caption Provided

Aldous Maxwell attacked more specific targets. First, the woman who had drained the SED's energy. She was a large target now, glowing green and standing out amongst the crowd of "heroes" assembled to topple the Icelandic government, so he sent a more powerful weapon against them. A dropship would swoop in, firing blindly at any who attack it, and deploy a single soldier. She would touch a specialized glove to the ground, turned up to it's most powerful seeing, causing an earthquake of almost 7.0 magnitude on the Richter scale, before leaping up, the cord attached to the back of her uniform retracting her into the ship. They swung back around towards the secondary target, the flock of bird-people in the sky. Before the LAC fighters could engage, however, Maxwell leaned over a technician's shoulder and launched a barrage of heat-seeking missiles, hoping to scatter the legions and allow Electrum Team to pick them off with hot plasma.


No Caption Provided

General Jonatan Johansson was a scientist. Even at this moment, he had analyzed X's abilities, and concluded he was manipulating the magnetic fields around them. He was also incredibly physically powerful, having been bathed in antimatter particles, along with his assistant. She stood at his side, and he spoke quickly. She would fly towards the gathered enemies and fire a plus wave of antimatter at them, before pulling back. She emerged from the airlock, though there was no need to in the atmosphere of Earth, and shot towards them, pausing midflight and charging the antimatter particles that inundated her body. Both wore containment bodysuits, though hers came with a mass, not that it was necessary. After the bright white wave of energy had fired, poised to sweep over the enemy's contingent of troops, she looked down quizzically, and saw a car moving on the evacuated highway, where only a military officer should have been. Inside was the brainwashed Knightfall Nighthawk, Cassius. She fired a burst of energy at it and returned to the ship.

While that had been going on, Jonatan had been trianglating the ground-based defenses, the turrets and cannons firing in the airborne Hawk Soldiers and other flying enemies. He wanted one captured alive, so he could study it and store the genes that gave them wings. A little vivisection in the name of science couldn't hurt, after all.

No Caption Provided

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#10 Posted by LunaHawk (1528 posts) - - Show Bio


The Hawk Lords were an airforce before airforces were cool and they'd been shot at before. When the cannons opened fire the Hawk Lords instantly dispersed, making targeting of groups virtually impossible. From there they began to engage their actual first targets...the aircraft that sought to sweep US jets from the sky. A jet was fast, a Hawk Lord just as fast...but Hawk Lords were infinitely more maneuverable, being small and not reliant upon the long turns even maneuverable craft were forced to make. The Hawk Lords dispersed among the US fighter craft and acted basically as wingmen, when an enemy craft approached they'd fly towards it with the intent of smashing it from the sky with either a mace or one of their armor mounted miniature missile launchers. Energy weapons weren't quite useless against Nth Metal armored Hawk Lords but they weren't terribly effective either. Many of the energy shots fired at them were simply absorbed by their armor, others were absorbed by a mace and then redirected through the mace at one of the Icelandic aircraft.

Luna Hawk chose a squad of five of her fellows and fell from the sky like rocks, only to pull up just feet above the surface of the ground, traveling so fast and so low that rocks and debris flew up in their wake. Their targets were the ground anti-air defense cannons. Each of the soldiers fired miniature missiles at the turrets. Each missile was coated in Nth Metal with an armor piercing tip and filled with highly constrained plasma, ready to burst out in every direction once its Nth metal shell was breached upon impact. Tiny contrails flowed from their shoulder mounted launchers as twenty missiles shot out at twenty targets. Luna Hawk herself had shrugged off such weaponry and instead relied upon her own. She had tinkered with her particle rifle in the last several months and its former one shot glory had now been upgraded to ten shots. She brought the weapon online and chose her targets, caressing the trigger ten times in rapid succession. Each caress sent forth a light speed burst of high density particles capable of penetrating the armor of ships, let alone turrets.

Once the weapon was empty she returned it to standard rifle mode and tossed it out to her left. The rifle flew backwards and into the hands of one of her wingmen as they prepared another attack run. Luna Hawk brought out her signature two magazine modified Thompson submachine gun and licked her lips. Clear another wave of turrets and then back to the sky. Some of the Hawklords were killed by the varied attacks but there were plenty more and death for Hawk Lord was only ever temporary, there were no true gods here.

Luna Hawk's wing made another sweep of the ground and then banked up hard, accelerating again as they made for Electrum Team from below. Luna Hawk unleashed an Nth Metal barrage, each of the forty five caliber Nth Metal bullets was charged with fifty thousand volts of electricity and aimed straight for the team that seemed intent on heading for the Hawk Lord Legion.

No Caption Provided

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#11 Posted by Lichter (5808 posts) - - Show Bio


The USS Exemplar

As the battle commenced, Klaus sought a better view, deciding to leave the Captain to his command. His presence within the command center had only been distracting to the others thus far, and so, he elected to move to the open-aired bow of the ship rather than the enclosed bridge. Once the shield fell, he could also assist the long-range strikes with his Death Ray, taking out key targets with precision strikes rather than massive blasts. But he'd have to wait until the shield fell.

He stood at the front of the ship, hands on the guard rail at the far side. His hawk-like eyes scanned the battlefield from behind his mask, his sense of position amplified as adrenaline coursed through his veins. They were going to war, and he was standing at the front of the ship, both figuratively and literally. It was for this reason, then, that he saw the bursts of psychic energy roar their way towards his vessel, lighting up the sky above. The attack was accompanied by a thunder-like sound that rattled the ship, drawing his attention immediately from the Icelandic coastline. Watching the attack close in, he was not seized by panic (though he was very much afraid); instead, his first thought was of his Oscillator, reaching down and cranking the anti-octarine field as high as it could go. Iceland wasn't known to use magic much, which made it seem very likely that he was about to die...

The purple-greenish waves suddenly emitted from his body waved out like an aurora, condensing around the blasts and effectively nullifying them. The last vestiges of the assault punched through his suddenly-constructed veil, rocking the side of the battleship and sending many sailors flying. Braced for the impact, Klaus stood his ground, almost losing his balance. The waves settled, the blasts taken care of. He looked down, feeling the Oscillator hum against his skin. He couldn't keep it on maximum the entire fight, so he tapped it with a lithe finger, setting it to reactive mode. The minute it detected another non-electromagnetic wavelength, it would once again compensate based on the intensity of said energies. Until then? It would be kept at standard intensity, the vibration against his chest no longer noticeable.

"Get below deck," he said to the officers who remained with him, looking up at the sky. The sunlight was slightly blinding, so he raised a hand to cast a shadow over his white-lensed eyes. They were meant to filter out sudden harmful flashes, not regular daylight. He could see the outline of a metahuman soaring towards them. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he reached down for his blade. Flicking the knife from his holster, he enacted a series of complicated finger-maneuvers on the grip, actually coding in a series of commands that summoned additional metals from within the hilt by means of the same teleportational technique that allowed him to vanish from where he stood. The blade elongated instantly, extending to the size of a fencing sabre in the span of a second.

His opponent landed, shaking the boat once more. As per Klaus' orders, guns were not to be fired towards her; they would be ineffective against any individual champion that Iceland sent the way of the CIA, that was almost a given. No, the safety of the crew was a priority in his eyes, and they'd already retreated to their positions within the vessel.

"Cowards die many times before their death."

What? He raised an eyebrow, cocking his hooded head to the side. He was about to open his mouth to point out the paradox, when he realized that this extranormal woman had chosen him in particular to engage, out of all the greater threats in the area. He was but a man on a battleship, relatively mundane in comparison to the hovering metahumans that the States had allied themselves with. Had his notoriety grown beyond his notice? Impossible. He looked to the side, then back to the Goddess.

"Do I know y-"

As he spoke, Ziccarra charged, barely registering to his eyes...but registering enough. While he couldn't consciously process his fear, he didn't truly need to; as soon as his body registered that he was coming under attack from a foe's blade (and one he didn't dare risk his arm parrying, at that), the Gottschwert reacted of its own accord, the artifact from von Lichters past compensating for his lack of a metagene and instead electing to evacuate him from his current position. Notably, had he not known of her probable superhuman prowess, his subconscious wouldn't have activated, the youth instead choosing to parry the overhead attack...which would have lead to a devastating shield to the temple from a 100-ton striker. Twice in a row, Klaus had avoided instant death by merit of his own preparedness...even if he didn't know it.

Blinking out of the way of her strike was stressful enough, but he was far from out of combat. The Octarine Rogue had instantly transitioned from being in the way of her attack to being about thirty meters behind her, facing the opposite direction. Taking a moment to register what had happened, he dropped his hands from his face, whirling around, uneasy. Instantly re-oriented, he assumed a combat stance, raising his blade at the Liafador. His mindset had shifted; his focus was razor-sharp.

He exhaled through his nose, analyzing his target as he'd been designed to do since birth. He couldn't duel her; were he to block one of her slashes, odds were that his arm would break in two. Furthermore, odds were that he wouldn't be fast enough to physically dodge a strike, and he couldn't risk her predicting the outcome of his teleportational jumps. The Death Ray, too, would likely be ineffective; he had not the time to draw it and fire before he'd be cut in two. Against a threat that physically outclassed him to such a degree, any conventional means of attack would be futile. If he wanted to live, he should leave, but that would mean sacrificing the crew of the Exemplar. That was something Otto would do.

But a second had elapsed during his subconscious analysis, leaving him with only another (perhaps less) to come up with an actual stratagem before she eviscerated him with that sword. He twisted his blade slightly, the world moving in slow motion around him as his brain kicked into overdrive.

Superhumans have supersenses. Supersenses can be exploited.

He clicked the handle again, playing the grip of his sword like a pianist. The reverberations of his vibrating sabre began to increase dramatically, his sword looking more like a straight silver shimmer than a traditional blade. The sound produced by this vibrating was calculated to be inaudible to Lichter, but intensely painful to anyone listening in with senses beyond those of an ordinary man. Or, in this case, woman. It would be the first part of an assault designed to cripple his foe and put her on his level, and it was an attack undertaken in the time it took for him to think about it. The sudden change in her environment, he hoped, would be enough to throw off her combat training and leave her vulnerable to the second part of his attack.

Said second part would be a blink-step forward into impalement, as taught to him by a plethora of teachers who also made use of the Gottschwert before it had been gifted to him. Blink-stepping involved making small, unpredictable teleportational movements, often resulting in the blade reappearing directly inside a target, essentially ignoring conventional invulnerability. Klaus had accumulated years of practice vanishing and reappearing with his sword inside a practice dummy; in the field, it would be no different. Klaus would disappear with neither sound nor flash of light, then recondense...ideally with the tip of his blade stuck inside Ziccarra's right eye and extending through the back of her skull.

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#12 Posted by femme_finale (42 posts) - - Show Bio

Astrid’s green lips curled into a wicked smile having devoured the S.E.D. It was an impressive construct and was a suitable meal. Now she would use the energy against the opposing forces. Before she could think of where to place her optic blasts, a ship swooped down from the sky, an apparent metahuman released as an attack against her co-assailants who had managed to alight upon the shore. @hadrian_knightfall

Her eyes widened as the attack began. She could feel the tremors building beneath her boots, each vibration reverberating through her cells, stored within. Rippling through the very earth, the kinetic power was palpable. And she wanted it. As the quake erupted, she was nearly knocked off balance, unused to dealing with his method. She needed to absorb the force. Steadying herself and crouching low as she ground rippled, her palm settled upon the dirt, absorbing the kinetic force, draining it creating a space of relative peace as the ground waved around her, the area expanding to calm the tumultuous Earth.

Sated by the kinetic energy she consumed, the living A-Bomb stood to her full fight, her attention set upon the aircraft after the metahuman retreated into it. Her eyes glowed green, releasing the energy she had stored into a concussive optic blast intent on knocking the vehicle from the sky. Then there was a second, stronger emission to blast it to bits.

Her attention shifted to the missiles released by the ship, their heatseeking mechanisms allowing each to hone in on a target. This would be fun. Her energy infused eyes released the optical blots once more in series of blasts at each missile she could see. They were a bit faster than she had anticipated, not used to hitting moving targets. But it might help the winged people @lunahawk if she could pick off a few for them. She was less worried about explosive impact upon her own person, assuming she’d be able to manage to absorb the kinetic energy from the impact and the thermal radiation from the explosion itself.

Weapon Q's heart pounded. War was amazing. But though she was confident in her biological gifts, she was ultimately inexperienced, not fully aware of her own abilities. She had only heard worried whispers from the scientists who studied her.

No Caption Provided
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#13 Posted by Fraga (1163 posts) - - Show Bio

@supreme_chancellor: @hadrian_knightfall:

His armor was black and lightweight. Forged from a regenerative nano-material, the 'Lotus Armor' was styled after a devil's visage and tailored to the lean and muscled proportions of his body. Arms folded before his chest, Fraga stood by X's right. He kept his posture global and straight, his every pore oozing the cunning swagger and cool of an apex predator. From behind the gold lenses of his mask, the Dim Mak Shinobi's eyes took in his surroundings, his ever-present silence casting a presence of mystique as he gazed all about the open sea, the smell of salty seawater hanging thick in the air. Gazing into the distance, Fraga's eyes fell upon the massive dome encasing the city of Reykjavik.

He stood mute and with a natural confidence as X insisted that he along with the others remain by his side. The Dim Mak Shinobi spoke no words. Instead, his voice came in the form of a subtle nod. X was the Unsung King, and he'd promised Fraga that in exchange for his assistance in claiming Iceland, he would repay him by helping him realize his vendetta against the Strix family. A man consumed by an obsessive need for vengeance against the family responsible for wrestling control of Gothic City from his own family's clutches and orchestrating their death, Fraga needed little reason to align himself with a man who'd promised to help him realize his life's mission. He remained silent, watching as the combined forces of his allies brought the dome down.

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And from it, Iceland's armed forces emerged with authority. Blast after blast of superheated plasma scorched the air, blitzing alongside streams of emerald energy that threatened to annihilate X and his allies. The others could handle themselves. Of this, Fraga was certain. After all, why else would X bring them if not for their ability? He was to remain by X's side at all times, to protect Iceland's would-be liberator, and execute any who dared approach him. And so, at the sight of the speeding blasts, the Dim Mak Shinobi grew earnest and his subtle chronokinesis came alive, freezing time for a tenth of a second. In that pocket of frozen time, Fraga's fingers coiled round X's arm, the muscle fibers in his legs twitched with extraordinary explosiveness and he leaped into the air.

The blasts had missed them by an inch, searing a layer off Fraga's armor only for it to regenerate a minute later. In the air, the Dim Mak Shinobi was agile and in control. He kept X firmly in his hold till they'd landed, the soles of their boots crashing into the concrete pavement near the coast. They'd narrowly avoided the blasts, and for now, none threatened to engage X in close quarters. Only then would Fraga collect the heads of their foes. For now, he simply stood by X's side, awaiting X's following move and @alpha_dog, @clara_mass and @_envy_ to make their way to them, as the Unsung King had instructed.

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#14 Posted by General_Kanos (279 posts) - - Show Bio

@femme_finale: @lunahawk:

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Kristin was assigned a special weapon, a pair of gloves that could manipulate seismic waves. She prefered the term Quake-Makers, personally. They were contact-based, but with a slight adjustment, the lab coats had been able to make it fire vibrational blasts. As she was retracted into her ship, she felt a blast hit it, sending the large craft spinning, though the pilot righted it quickly. There was some internal damage, but new orders had come in, and Kristin, leader of Electrum Team, was not going to turn back because the ship was smoking.

The LAC series was designed for expendability, but some personnel, like her, were actually valuable, so this craft was bulky and armed with several cannons. One set fired back at the green energy-manipulator back on the ground, while the other spun and faced the Winged Warlord Luna Hawk, firing as she advanced. “Open the door.” Kristin’s orders were obeyed without question, and she grabbed ahold of a strap, heavy winds blowing her hair back. SHe took a deep breath and fired a blast of vibrational energy at the flying assailant, aiming to stop her from continuing to shoot, as the Nth Metal bullets were somehow penetrating the ship’s exterior., as well as blowing several turrets apart. If it was a successful hit, they’d swing back to the Ascendancy, and dock for quick repairs, letting the rest of Electrum Team continue their aerial battle with the Hawks.

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#15 Edited by Supreme_Chancellor (1278 posts) - - Show Bio

The Unsung King smiled as the dome fell, but it was a smile, short lived. Soon after; the Prince of Darkness was on the receiving end of a combined assault. An assault which threatened both his powers and his own troops, but X had faith in their tested abilities. To refute the attack would take---

---No time at all?

Instantaneously the Dim Mak Shinobi @fraga used his unparalleled mastery of time and spontaneous reactive abilities to rapidly maneuver the Unsung King out of harms way, only sustaining minor injuries himself. With a thankful glance in Fraga's direction the instance their feet kissed the ground, Weapon X gazed ahead towards Iceland.

Towards his new empire.

With a quick movement X raised his palm to forehead and spoke to allies telepathically. At first, towards the former President of the United States of America. @clara_mass "Assist in bringing our allies @_envy_ and @belle_nightingale to my destination. I require their brawn." X's eyes flickered frantically as his fingers pointed outwards, masterfully locking onto the Icelandic canons and other weaponry stationed around the country.

"You dare strike me... Fools."

Iceland was strong. Iceland had gigantic weapons. Weapons, that would be used upon their own. Despite the apparent anti-magnetized technology used by Iceland, it was ultimately not enough to simply make something non-magnetic. Everything, to the Unsung King, was magnetic at some level; he just needed enough of a field to manipulate it via the phenomena of diamagnetic and paramagnetic interactions.

Both of which, Weapon X had masterful control of. Paramagnetism is a form of magnetism whereby certain materials are attracted by an externally applied magnetic field. In contrast, diamagnetic materials are repelled by magnetic fields and form magnetic fields in the direction opposite to that of the applied magnetic field. If both were applied correctly, they would form a functional magnetic field capable of moving anything.

Thus, Weapon X was capable of masterfully ignoring a material's lack, or counter, to magnetism by surrounding it within his own magnetic field. It was as though Weapon X could mold and encase any object within his field. Once again, being subject to his undisputed rule....


The Prince of Darkness slowly levitated as he concentrated, feeling his amplified powers in the presence of other mutants bask him in their combined might. His father had managed to defeat some of the world's most talented and brutal mutants when in the presence of other mutants; X shared this gift.

With deadly precision, the Sociopathic Scion would seek to turn the enemy weapons upon themselves.

And fire.

The might of the Icelandic military would truly be showcased. All canons, at once, would seek to destroy their metal brothers and sisters -- Specifically, aiming towards @hadrian_knightfall's commanding vessel. If Iceland was as strong as the stories told, even a few minutes of bombardment would radically change the tides of this already hectic and growing battle.

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#16 Posted by Lords_Of_Light (185 posts) - - Show Bio

War is always provoked, whether one side puts pressure upon another or vice versa their will always be an aggressor and a defender. Reasons these sides are taken vary from conflict to conflict though. Here, on Earth, war has become a sort of natural part of life. Iceland is the target this time and in fact it was only a matter of time. Their military was growing larger then it should have and it's very principals deified common logic. Such things breed fear in the eyes of those in power which is exactly why the heroes of Earth have united with it's governments to fight back. Andromeda on the other hand would appear to have no need for involvement until you take a look at some of the other things Iceland had done to provoke the residents of Mars. Putting massive WMDs into orbit above Earth shouldn't have been an issue but, whats to stop them from putting them in the orbit of Mars. This could not be allowed and thus the government of Iceland needed to be weakened which is why Andromeda has taken an interest in this battle.

Mars 0800 Martian Hours

Cross was very cross on this day, he felt as if he had been forced into this position that he did not want to have to be in. The battle was coming and it was almost time to embark towards Earth. The journey would not take long considering the technology in their possession but, it would be tedious to go there and come back just t take on a small nation. However, this was a necessity due to the fact that they posed a threat to the safety of his people and it was his job as Emperor to defend them. This had brought forth questions from Mariana, who was very much against the concept, of why they couldn't just use diplomacy. The answer was simple, they still had alot to prove in the eyes of the Earthlings. This battle would be the equivalent to killing two birds with one stone, it would remove the potent militaristic threat Iceland imposed while also flexing their military might so other knew that a hostile takeover would be...less then optimal.

Alexander stood now among the other men on the bridge of the Harrier. Around him stood the crew that would be flying into battle with him this day, they were some of the finest men and women he had met. Directly in front of him stood a microphone that allowed him to communicate with the crews aboard the other ships he was bringing into combat.

"Today is not a happy day, we launch ourselves into other worldly conflicts in order to ensure the survival of our people. This speech is not meant to provide you with false hope or lies, it is meant to provide you with truth. Lives will be lost, some of you won't come home but, you are the sons and daughters of Andromeda and just as our people fought to preserve our spot in life we shall fight to preserve our descendants. That is why we fight, not for ourselves but for our offspring, our children, the generation that will succeed ours. So it is with this goal in mind that I issue the order... Attack."

Iceland-Earth Time Unknown

They had left and in a near instant they had arrived, the Andromedean fleet warped in the midst of the action. The carnage had just begun which meant they were not too late to assist. This was the time to engage and every man and woman rushed to their places, the bridge became a place of organized chaos as orders were barked from man to man. From the bay of other Transport class ships hundreds of Fighter Class Falcon's swarmed and took off to partake in dog fights occurring in the air. These were high agility low defense crafts that specialized in hit and run type attacks on enemy ships, utilizing their speed to catch enemies before they themselves can be caught.

Making up the front line of the larger ships Invader's took up space defying their original purpose of deploying troops and instead seeking to take down larger enemy craft. They would begin firing large blasts of plasma towards any craft large enough to deploy troops, hoping to take down the one place supplying the horde of crafts that approached.

Then there were the Two elites that rode aboard the Harrier with Alexander, they were known as Orbital Knights. The Orbital Knights were the most elite soldiers that Andromeda possessed and these were the top four. Sir Galias and Lady Beatrice awaited their time to deploy in the hangar of the massive command ship. They had time and this time led to banter among them of who would rack up the highest number of enemy take downs on the battlefield today. This was how they decided who was number one among them. Sir Galias was currently in the lead after their last war which had netted him fifty while Beatrice followed close behind with 45.


The order boomed over the intercoms disrupting their conversations and forcing them into action. They took hold of the controls of their frames, three switches were flipped and then their gold and white mecha were launched into combat.

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Galias & Beatrice

Galias was currently the best Orbital Knight, having racked up the most kills during the last conflict, he intended to keep the title and do just the same. As his gold and white frame propelled itself through the air at Mach 3 leaving a blue light trail behind from where his thrusters pumped out heat and light. Two enemy ships approached, that meant two more kills. His smooth hands pushed forward on the controls of the frame increasing it's speed to mach 10. With a quick flick of the right handle the machine began to rotate in a clockwise manner like a drill. As he came close his sword was drawn, the blue frochalt(Basically vibrating true adamantium) that made up the blade caught the slight glint of the sun as he let loose a spinning slash in an effort to bring the blade through both Icelandic aircraft before continuing onwards.

Beatrice opted for less fancy flight maneuvers, she was more of the type to utilize rather basic but effective Andromedean war tactics. As she made her way towards the surface she spotted two enemy craft, she increased her speed to mach 10 and descended. In a similar fashion to the hawks she pulled up straight back into the sky drawing her blade in a wide arc above her hoping to cut the craft in half.

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#17 Edited by Ziccarra_Liafador (802 posts) - - Show Bio


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She hadn't arrived in time to see just what her psionic strike did, but judging from the condition of the vessel, nothing more than superficial damage. Ziccarra's pacific blue eyes fix on her would be enemy. Due to his mask, his facial features were concealed, she stood at an even 5'6, from this distance he was taller. Unlike her bare profile, he could hide his expressions, looks of fear, surprise--blood even. Like the predator she was, It was her goal to lay her alluring cerulean eyes on his by the end of the bout.

"Stop it he's just a human" The weak woman embedded in her subconscious plea, but she couldn't begin to address the feelings of weakness coming from her other half. She was a Goddess, no she was more than that, she was the War Goddess, The Modern Day Athena; a woman whose body count probably rivaled the amount of lives currently on the ship--This was War. It was mathematics. Her potentially fatal attacks proved futile, the arrogant Goddess made a mistake that was not common with Ziccarra--underestimating her opponent. He was fast, and it was clear his speed would become problematic. She needed a way to deal with it, but not caring to do so right now she charged again.

"Stop it slow down, you are not thinking about your attacks...you are just moving!" The weak woman hissed again, but The Cardinal War Goddess couldn't be reasoned with. As he presented his blade, a remarkable one at that; she watched in all her arrogance as the blade began to tremor. Pressing forward, her crimson boots were halted by what sounded like one of Ashley's canary cries, except this...this was more painful. Clutching her head in agony, The Cardinal Goddess quickly backtracked trying to move out of range of it's ear shattering effects. Gritting her teeth, her eyes opened showing the red strain it was taking on her. Coagulated strings of saliva cling to the pit corners of her mouth. "This is nothing, we have beaten this before. Remember the Cardinal skills" The weak woman coached. The Goddess/ Ziccarra were able to cycle through all the Core Cardinal Code's with inexplicable speed in a short amount of time, She could also think much faster than she could blink. They had the ability to completely stop hearing, but the brash and arrogant nature of "The Goddess" saw a human and thought to bully him--which was currently backfiring.

As she continued backtracking, it was fast, fast as hell; just barley managing to sway her head; his powerful blade sharply swiped the side of her eye. Forcing the Modern Day Athena, over the edge of the boat. As she fell, her natural senses kicked in, dispatching the conquistador bullwhip, The Goddess hung on for dear life. Ear's ringing, blood cascading down the side of her face.

Ziccarra's body bounce against the side of the vessel, as she tried to regain composure. Her focus was directed toward using her mental energy to see, while using techniques like "Mind-Set" to force herself into bypassing the pain. Flying back to the hull of the vessel, The Goddess' hearing severely damaged; and sight limited to just one eye.

In just the first few moments of battle, The Goddess developed a new found respect for this mere man. It was clear in his conduct that he was a natural survivalist. But, there was a job to be done. As her crimson boots met the surface adjacent her own blood drops, Ziccarra encased herself first in her TTK. His blink step was problematic, but with her defenses slightly raised; she'd be able to weather more of his swift tactics.

"Impressive..." She said, before her fox nose mask lightly faded in covering the right half of her face. It was pointless to attack him with her damaged eye, and his blink step. "There's two thing you can do..." The weak woman suggest. The internal dialogue between the two of them hit her like a lightbulb. Flying from the surface back down into the sea directly underneath the vessel. The Modern Day Athena waited until she hit the ocean bedrock.

Her sole goal was to take this fleet out of the fight, Pressing her hands into the bedrock; bypassing the searing salt water on her eye. Ziccarra released a devastating TK blast, not just to level Lichter's vessel, but an attempt to create erratic tidal waves for the entire fleet to handle.

Should that not work, Ziccarra sought to turn back to her illusion casting mask; a phase two illusion now. To force the surroundings between her and Licther to a massive jungle.

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#18 Posted by Cascade_ (124 posts) - - Show Bio

@supreme_chancellor: @hadrian_knightfall:

"I know the latest bat fetishist said to ride with him, but I hope you don't mind if I do my own thing." Remarked a false god of war, one who knew the divination to be a false claim in the first place. Cascade was made a new God one of many who was empowered and stepping to center stage. However she also realized fallacy to said power, derived from its acquisition and amount of her blessed brothers and sisters. Within the pantheons before the numbers were few and the status refined. By becoming another outlet of superhuman capacity though the refinement was gone. They were not men and women made gods just people given power to rival gods. But the details were boring Cascade cared about only one thing, making her power count.

So many people feared the idea of unification as much as they desired it. A utopian world was a dream, but a new world order was thought a nightmare. Casca saw this as a step though to a better world and not the end the paranoia was unwarranted. To bring about such change however empires had to fall that'd oppose such ambitious visions. And now with reinvigorated youth from Godhood the warrior could look to see it made a reality. See wasn't a politician she longed for conflict as much as peace and so her actions were predestined the moment she agreed to come to Iceland.

She kept a comm open, so that both sides could hear her if they so wished. "I'm going to fall from orbit on the biggest building I see. Maybe it's your House of Parliament maybe it's the home base of your lovely army. In either case you should not be there." Casca had been floating within the skies at the edge of the atmosphere air thin and cold it was somewhat relaxing really to the false goddess. With warning sent away though it was time she stopped keeping herself afloat, she surrendered to gravity.

Curled up behind her shield she'd drop like a boulder sized comet. The furious heat sphered around her but didn't so much as kiss her skin. The wind screamed of sonic disruption but was little more then a breeze to her. A shield fit to protect a god was before her rendering almost any harm mute. Additionally given the enchanted properties of the shield its weight was of Casca's choosing.

From a hundred kilometers above the war addict of a goddess would fall. She'd descend to the targeted region with a weight just over three hundred tons, her shield weighing two hundred by choice her sword naturally a hundred. It was a volatile projectile by any means but with nothing but gravity in play it'd reach a speed of Mach ten. It'd culminate in a strike as furious if not more so then an atomic bomb. But it'd have no fallout and a more refined range. A successful impact would be likely crippling of course though it might also just draw attention to her and be stopped. That to was fine however by Casca's point of view.

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#19 Posted by Lichter (5808 posts) - - Show Bio


A surge of satisfaction accompanied his strike against the Goddess, accompanied by a slight pang of dismay as he realized she would still be in action. Yet, he'd drawn blood, which was more than most men could say when faced with a living deity. He stepped backwards instinctively as she reacted, even though her move was not to counterattack, but rather to escape. She'd gone over the side of the boat, though he had no doubt that they'd not seen the last of her. But she'd been wounded, and that was enough. Odds were that she'd skulk away to menace them at a later date, swimming away under the cover of the ocean as quickly as possible. Blinded and deafened, there was no way she'd continue to fight. Lichter had emerged victorious once again.

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Superbeings are so easily frightened, he thought smugly, when faced with their own mortality. He looked down at the sword, the tip painted dark red. Raising an eyebrow, he reached into one of his pouches, removing a simple white cloth. Stopping the blade's vibration, he ran the white rag over the tip, cleaning off the blood and giving the sword its shine once more. But he did not dispense with the stained rag, no; carefully, he put it back into his pouch, sealing his valuable prize inside for later experimentation.

Chuckling, he replaced the sword in its sheath, sliding it back in with a flick of his wrist and returning to the bow of the ship. Looking back out towards the coast, he watched the light show begin, the energy dome collapsing in upon itself as their forces commenced their assault in earnest. Whether or not it had been the enigmatic "X" or one of his allies who had disabled the shield, he could not say. Luminous rays of energy and bolts of power filled the atmosphere above Reykjavik as clouds gathered above. It was like watching a thunderstorm, but with people throwing the lightning. Astonishing.

He was about to give the "all clear" when he heard a rumbling noise from far beneath the vessel. Knitting his brow, he glanced over the side of the warship, watching bubbles rise across the ocean, as though it were boiling over. Then, the tides began...and suddenly, an enormous wave rose from the aft side of the battleship, blotting out his view of the conflict.

"Oh," he said meekly, taking a step back and raising his hands up to his face just as the enormous wall of water collided dramatically with the side of the Exemplar, crashing into Klaus and carrying him head-over-heels across the deck of the boat. He slid across the soaked metal surface of the front deck, tossed by both the remnants of the TK attack and the water itself. Coughing, he propped himself up on an elbow, slowly getting up into a crouch.

Clearly, this fight isn't-

Another wave rocked the Exemplar, this time tossing Klaus to the opposite side. He managed to keep his footing, though, only stepping, unbalanced, to the side. Partly running, partly stumbling, he made his way over to one of the doors, grabbing on with his gloved hand and looking out at the rest of the naval force, which was experiencing similar disturbances. He couldn't tell if any of the boats had sunk, but if they had...perhaps he could rely on Kai Aurelius' forces to make a goodwill rescue, even if they weren't involving themselves in the conflict directly. He was a proud man, Kai, but also a good one. He would not wage war on a country like Iceland when he had his own people to attend to, but it wouldn't be unlike him to spare a few for rescue.

Maybe just wishful thinking, Klaus thought, his stomach sinking along with a nearby destroyer. Those men were likely dead...

Shaking his head, he scowled, the waves finally seeming to stop. Stepping forward, he instead exchanged his sword for the Death Ray, drawing his silver weapon from its holster and changing the settings to emit a fine red beam rather than a large crimson wave. He had no target yet, but if she showed herself, he'd be ready.

Stepping over a root, he swatted absentmindedly at a fly. The humid environment was beginning to grow annoying, the vines obscuring his vision ever so slightly. The last thing he wanted was for his assailant to emerge from behind a tree. The leaves shimmered above, but not naturally. Confused, he looked up, noticing an odd purple glow emanating from the branches of the many trees. Suddenly, the glow extended to the forest floor, the flies vanishing, the grass replaced with cold, wet steel.

Hn, he thought, narrowing his eyes as the illusion was dissipated by the Oscillator's reverberations. He was more upset with how he'd been affected; he'd sincerely believed himself to be in a South American jungle but a moment ago. The effect had lasted for only seven seconds or so, but it was so convincing...

I can afford to make more use of the Oscillator after all, he thought, readjusting the settings to prevent any further trickery. A few more steps, and he'd have walked overboard. Turning, he wondered if the crew would be adversely affected as well. He dialed in a few commands, and held out the Oscillator, watching it pulsate gently in his hand. A moment later, and it shook violently for but a second, verdant waves resounding from within and reflecting off of every surface the boat had to offer. Ideally, it would completely dispel any residual illusions, but he couldn't be too sure. Afterwards, he'd replace it underneath his vest, re-sealing the waterproof garment to protect his relative comfort. His neck ached from where he'd hit the deck, and it gnawed at the back of his mind.

Nothing to do now but wait until she resurfaces...if she even has to breathe, he thought, holding his Death Ray up with both hands, prepared to burn a millimeter-wide hole through any foe that faced him.

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#20 Posted by The_Reality_Sage (209 posts) - - Show Bio

"Dammit... I'm too late."

The Sage of All Reality stood upon one of Reykjavik's many buildings, crimson cape flapping behind him aggressively. Weather was never a calm force on the tides of war. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as fighting began with incredible speed. The dome fell before his very eyes, and then Maxwell realized that actually conversing with the combined threat would be hopeless in the given scenario. Taking to the skies, he surveyed the area, and scoped out several factors that he'd need to take care of.

Warships drew in his attention, dozens of warships en route to the people of Iceland. American, Venezuelan, Maverick. It mattered not their nationality. They were enemies, and thus needed to be removed. Raising his hands, he began to murmur a light incantation, when out of the corner of his eye he caught something falling from the air. It was going much too fast, faster than the Sage's eye could follow, and it collided with one of Reykjavik's many buildings with a sickening BOOM. (@cascade_) Lips pulled back in a snarl, he flew over, inspecting the damages, however many there were.

This was no war.

This was an annihilation.

Scanning for signs of life in the building, the Sage found few men and women, luckily. Raising a lone hand, these people were lifted, telekinetic power lifting them out of the hole that the thing had created. Carefully, he set them down, outside of the building- far enough so that they could start running away. With his other hand, he reached out and came into contact with the building, calling out to the ground below it and the air above.

Then, he clenched his fist, and the building collapsed, pressure from the air coming down onto the top and the ground giving away at the bottom. The whole structure would sink deep into the Earth, isolating the attacker from the rest of the conflict, and also bringing the building down on top of her. After doing this, Maxwell called upon the gravel inside the hole he had made, and attempted to collapse the dirt- burying the building, and the attacker, alive.

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#22 Posted by Ziccarra_Liafador (802 posts) - - Show Bio


He means nothing, he is just a simple human; let him be. "IS HE BUT A HUMAN, LOOK AT MY EYE!" The Goddess hissed internally, this human managed to leave her both hearing and visually impaired. The nerve of Ziccarra wanting to leave him be, for what. Pretty soon he'd make a mistake, they always do and when he did there would be no coming back from it.

With the now turbulent waves overhead providing cover, The Goddess used this time to utilize one of her hardest techniques. The Raging Dragon Technique. The waves offered her the cover needed to actually employ the secret maneuver, which is what she needed. The Raging Dragon technique was really a skill that the mortal Ziccarra used, something to make her pathetic levels of power just under god-tier. So why would a full blown Goddess use such a sacred art? Because hidden beneath the speed boost, the augmentation of strength, endurance and intellect rest a healing factor. As her mind-set technique already allowed her to by bypass the pain, it was now time to fix her eyesight and hearing once and for all. She was sure he believed he won, the time needed to actually execute such a technique would've assured those thoughts.

What was the purpose though? Why was she subjecting herself to such battle? They had zero ties to Iceland, or it's leader. She didn't even know Lichter why was he the focus of her wrath? Perhaps Ziccarra allowed it because she truly felt sorry for her actions in Spain; or the Goddess however it was a different story. The Goddess was fighting because she failed in Spain, failed to conquer the Spanish government despite being the Prime Minister. She could feel the tissue in her eyes slowly repairing, but given the mental energies given off from the crew above--he'd manage to shatter her Tier Two illusion. "Impossible" she thought with her vision and sound steadily returning.

Pushing off her right foot, just the small force from her champion ballet legs sent The Goddess 60 feet into the skyinto the sky. "Listen here, mortal. I do not wish to kill those just following orders. But I will. Surrender now." She was able to make out a small little device in his hand, she wasn't exactly sure of it's properties but if it didn't penetrate her tactikenisis and kill her it'd be his first mistake. Extending her hands towards the USS Exemplar, The Cardinal Goddess of War had one objective in mind--make it hover. Exerting a ridiculous amount of energy Ziccarra sought to raise the massive vessel to her eye level with her mind. Should he decide not to surrender, she would push the vessel beneath the waves courtesy of her TK.

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#23 Posted by Apex_ (1071 posts) - - Show Bio

"Give it a week or two and some shit stain will want to wage war on some other shit stain." Alex remarked within one of the Maverick air craft, she was no costumed hero or even someone of notoriety to her name. She'd taken shots at Satar and Dreadpool, fought with Ivana's forces, sunken submarines and more. But all just as a soldier she was strictly military the capes could be saved for someone else. It was a much more preferred way of things to, the strategy of capes was always underwhelming to her. And even their smart plans were ones that'd draw a lot of heat.

Alex would go her classic route, moving to a location to provide cover fire. Wait till she had a command to follow or Intel gave enough information to derive an objective of her choosing. First of course she had to get into position though and so she reached her hand out to craft a portal. However where the door on her end was fine the exit was not the image wavy and distorted. Her teleportating methods wouldn't work here at least for now. Smiling the apex archer changed the portal to her room collecting more arrows for her quiver. It was overstocked to compensate for her lack of accessibility in the field. "Always do like the old fashioned way more. Anyone tagging along?"

Her fist punched a button and imediately the wind whipped her hair about furiously the air hot from the frantic dog fighting above Iceland. Stepping up to the opening the archer pulled a trio of arrows from a quiver mounted with explosive tips, and stepped off. Instantly being pulled downward the gifted eyes of the mutant looked for the best targets she could find. Starting with a duo of fighter jet that was buckling down on a series of hawk lords. They were avoiding almost every shot but the overlapping fire of the jets stopped them from closing distance. That was until an arrow expertly shot struck one of the moving fighter's wings sending the jet in its turn into a spiraling collision with its adjacent brother of the skies. Letting the glider suit do its job the maverick marksman traveled through the air thankfully not drawing to much traction given everything else. A heavily armed fighter jet looked to be eyeballing one of the mechs. Odds were those beastly machines would of been fine, but given she had time and the mechs weren't in range two arrows slipped into the thrusters. The sequence of explosives leaving little of the jet to fall away. Drawing closer to city level however her archery game and evasive action had to be kicked up a notch.

Anti air fire both by ordinance and personnel clotted the air. Bobbing and weaving allowed her to execute shots well. Men dropping and turrets detonating in puffs of flame. Her lethal performance however hindered the act of slowing her decent. The landing was going to be a rough one she knew as a turret faced her way and a series of rooftop positioned men readied to open fire.

She withdrew a repulsor arrow and explosive one, letting the repulsive round be released first. Racing through the air the arrow met the bolt of plasma head on and through maverick technology diluted the potency of the energy shot forward. Most the attack was stopped and what was left was just enough to burn her flight suit only. Disposing of the suit and tightening up for a landing Alex struck a soldier her blow softened by a bruising impact. The exsplosive arrow dug into the guard's brow piercing the skull strength of Alex's exosuit keeping the man from slumping over. The bow itself fractured the man's nose. It was enough for her to let the arrow fly however before the primed explosive would go off. Shooting through the man's head the arrow's exsplosive shattered the support of the turret. It fell releasing one last salvo that had the top portion of the roof Alex and the other two soldiers were on starting to fall. Racing forward her bow cracked the knee of a soldier forcing him over the ledge. At the last moment as the last of the soldiers fell the Maverick archer leaped planting her climbing axe into the walls of an adjacent structure.

Climbing through a blown out window she took a moment to catch her breath. She was now behind enemy lines and the day was early. "I'm gona say I nailed that Landon's. Now to find something to do." The remark made over Mav communications even though it was more to herself.

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#24 Posted by Lichter (5808 posts) - - Show Bio


Just as he thought he'd be prepared for Ziccarra's return, Klaus felt the battleship itself shift beneath his feet, undoubtedly rocked by another set of waves. He extended one his arms to maintain his balance, stumbling backwards slightly as the boat rose underneath another swell. But something was wrong; it hadn't yet crashed back down. Whipping around, he looked up to see Ziccarra using her power to physically raise the vessel into the air.

We must be sixty feet high, he thought, stomach falling. He ought to leave, to take his sword and evacuate...but to accept defeat now would only be to allow this maniac to aid Iceland in terrorizing the world. He blinked, looking out over the side of the boat and growing more nervous as they rose into the air. They were at the same level as the low-flying aircraft, and the less attention he received, the better.

"Listen here, mortal. I do not wish to kill those just following orders. But I will. Surrender now."

Forced to look up at Ziccarra, rather than meet her on a level playing field, he listened to her ultimatum held breath.

She's healing! he thought, eyes wide. He glanced down at his chromium weapon, and nodded, slowly replacing the Ray in its holster underneath his left arm. It would be useless to him now.

"Very well," he said, defeated. As he spoke, he used his fingers to strap the weapon in, pulling the holster tight to ensure he wouldn't lose his valuable device. Visibly crestfallen, he looked to the side, not meeting Ziccarra's eyes. Saddened, he didn't return to uniform "I surrender" position quickly; rather, he took his time returning his hands to his sides, passing his fingers over every strap on his vest in an attempt to straighten himself up. Yellow-gloved digits passed over imperceptibly opened pouches, the youth closing his eyes in defeat as his fingertips snatched a small vial out of his right breast pocket.

Concealing the vial in his right palm, he let his arms fall to his sides. He returned his gaze to the Goddess, white-lensed eyes finally betraying emotion that was visible despite the mask. Yet, as he did so, his left hand practically slithered behind his back, silently retrieving his spray-gun. The device was typically used to distribute either a special cyanoacrylate spray that adhered to nearly anything, or a teflon-derived aerosol that served to drastically reduce the effect of friction on anything it touched. But as he gripped the small projector behind his back, he tapped the side button, disengaging the vial within and dropping it onto the deck behind him.

"I'm sorry," he said, with a casual shrug.

Not even a second after, he whipped the gun around with his left hand, the ambidextrous prodigy making precise use of his perfectly practiced prestidigitation to load the other vial he'd subtly taken from his pouch into the gun as he aimed it, clicking the device shut with one motion. As he swung the gun upwards towards Ziccarra, he pulled the trigger, releasing a mist of high-powered spray directly towards the Goddess. And the new ammunition he'd just added? His nefarious ultracarcinogenic salve, the product of a "healing potion" gone wrong. The mist would immediately seep into any open wound, drastically increasing the rate at which cells divide by exposing them to a unique chemical that amplified fibroplast production while neutralizing the production of the cyclins that tell the body to stop healing. In short? Superhuman cancer, designed to ravage the body at a rate accelerated by a healing factor. Designed in response to the child-murderer Katraya after their encounter in Venezuela, the ultracarcinogen would first see action against Ziccarra Liafador instead.

I really am, he thought, squeezing the trigger and watching the mist propel itself towards his dreaded opponent.

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#25 Posted by Supreme_Chancellor (1278 posts) - - Show Bio

Wordlessly the Devil's Heir continued to propagate his magnetic machinations, contorting the Icelandic armies very own weaponry to commit self-inflicted suicide, before however, an unexpected triviality entered the fray. It was by pure mutant fortune and adroitness that Weapon X was capable of nimbly apprehending his foe, with a slight, but meaningful jolt of his body mid-air, the Blade of Ares skimmed his thick vibranium weaved armor with a ferocious tear...

Enough of this madness, I have no time for children and their knives.

The Blade of Exodus tore through the vibranium armor down to it's very base level, completing rendering it useless for any future lacerations however playing true to it's international acclaim as an ornate defense material - It's actual integrity held steadfast for the duration the prior assault; keeping the Unsung King from sustaining anything more than a bruise from the ten ton blow.

Momentarily, X's eye glowed white.

Only an inexperienced fool attacks the master of magnetism... With a blade.

No Caption Provided

Without hesitation nor warning, the Prince of Darkness sought to violently lift his opponent through the very air and fly backwards to thwart any further attack, utilizing all of the metal upon his inferiors body to restrain and lift him -- X had been capable of moving the Former President, Clara Mass, with a single coin upon her body, a man coated and wielding so much metal? It would be as though the God's themselves had all wrapped ropes around each and every limb Exodus possessed and pulled him away with their combined strength.

No Caption Provided

...Then with a commanding, almost cruel conjuring, the Devil's Heir would seek to brutally yet pragmatically hurl his foe away as though one had been punched by Thee Champion himself; the power of the entire magnetically controlled contortion exerting enough pressure and force upon his enemies body that it alone threatened to obliterate him entirely. Regardless of if this had been a success or not, X sent a telepathic message to @alpha_dog and @belle_nightingale.

--Kill him--

With neither care nor compassion, the Sociopathic Scion outstretched his other hand, independent of the success of his last attack, he would now assist Fraga with the secondary annoyance.

This attacker, like the first, was just as simple. Once again it had sought to not only attack the master of magnetism but attack when it entirely constituted of metals itself.

Beyond foolish. Suicide, arguably.

No Caption Provided

With his left hand, Weapon X was engaging Exodus, with his right, it had already been outstretched and was now seeking to frantically deconstruct the E.X.O.D.U.S model where it stood, piece by piece, each part subsequently would be thrown into the distance with nothing more than an offhanded thought, unless the machine had an ability to render itself -not metal- it would ultimately be subject to his every whim. It would take less than a second for X to destroy the model, even less to render it completely unidentifiable due to being scattered across the battlefield like a sledgehammer upon a glass marble.

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#26 Posted by LunaHawk (1528 posts) - - Show Bio

@femme_finale: @lunahawk:

No Caption Provided

Kristin was assigned a special weapon, a pair of gloves that could manipulate seismic waves. She prefered the term Quake-Makers, personally. They were contact-based, but with a slight adjustment, the lab coats had been able to make it fire vibrational blasts. As she was retracted into her ship, she felt a blast hit it, sending the large craft spinning, though the pilot righted it quickly. There was some internal damage, but new orders had come in, and Kristin, leader of Electrum Team, was not going to turn back because the ship was smoking.

The LAC series was designed for expendability, but some personnel, like her, were actually valuable, so this craft was bulky and armed with several cannons. One set fired back at the green energy-manipulator back on the ground, while the other spun and faced the Winged Warlord Luna Hawk, firing as she advanced. “Open the door.” Kristin’s orders were obeyed without question, and she grabbed ahold of a strap, heavy winds blowing her hair back. SHe took a deep breath and fired a blast of vibrational energy at the flying assailant, aiming to stop her from continuing to shoot, as the Nth Metal bullets were somehow penetrating the ship’s exterior., as well as blowing several turrets apart. If it was a successful hit, they’d swing back to the Ascendancy, and dock for quick repairs, letting the rest of Electrum Team continue their aerial battle with the Hawks.

Luna Hawk batted plasma bolts out of the air with her rifle, which was composed primarily of Nth Metal. The Nth Metal absorbed the energy and then repulsed it back out into the air, away from their combat and any allied forces. She narrowed her eyes as the enemy dropped out of the craft with a strap and tensed, waiting for something unusual. Sure enough something unusual did happen, she was struck with a wave of vibrational energy that threatened to completely throw off her flight path. She was rocked hard and nearly lost control before veering back onto the correct path. She'd certainly stopped firing her weapon during this time period and then watched as the craft was already on its way back to its mothership. Damn it.

She shifted her focus, her HUD informing her that one of her wingmates had been killed. She flipped around on a dime and dove down, landing directly ontop of one of the Electrum Team flying craft. She grabbed hold of its outer hull with one hand and stuck her weapon to the cockpit. She pulled the trigger and didn't let up until a storm of blood exploded all over the cockpit windows. She then let go of the craft and spread her wings, flying back away from it and searching for her next target. We've got to deal with this team before we can rejoin the legion. She mused and turned her attention to the legion itself. It was now locked in aerial combat with maneuverable and expendable fighter craft and that was a battle she was confident they would eventually win, especially backed by allies and allied aircraft. She opened a comm signal to the allied forces.

"We need someone to take out these spaceships if we want to clear the sky a lot sooner of enemy craft, it looks like some of them are returning to the ships for repairs, we obviously don't have the same ability with our own fighter craft, though my wounded Hawk Lords are landing on ships to let their regenerative properties take hold. Kill the ships and I think we've halfway won." She turned her head, looking at the nearest of the massive vessels. I just don't have the firepower to do it myself. We're not here to deal with those things.

No Caption Provided

She adjusted her communication channel. "If anyone needs air support, send the call out on this channel and I'll redirect forces."


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#27 Edited by Ziccarra_Liafador (802 posts) - - Show Bio
You are without honor!
You are without honor!

"See he sees it tis useless" The Weak woman coached, but the Goddess was not convinced. Even though her eyesight was slowly returning, her hearing getting slightly better too; she didn't trust the mortal. Maybe it's because she never expected him to surrender, but she didn't know where to put him or his crew. They fought almost a mile off the coast of Iceland, if her ears weren't messed up she'd probably be able to make out the ensuing battle ravaging the country. She hadn't met up with any organized units from Iceland's defense forces, so many of them didn't even know she was on their side. She vaguely made out the end of his statement, "Sorry?" Before she could register what was happening, The Malagan Goddess was hit with a potent...well she really didn't know what the heck it was. But the clarity she was beginning to experience suddenly stopped. Instead the effects were reversed. "You are without honor!" She screamed, as her body started to weaken. It was noticeable with her improper stature and struggle to stay flight. Using the remaining energy she could muster, the Malagan Goddess, Instead of making good on her promise to drop the vessel sought to crush it between two massive walls of telekinetic energy.

"It-It didn't have to come to this!" The Goddess screamed, as she unconsciously plunged to the ocean beneath them. Yes it did. This is war. @lichter

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

Unbeknownst to her comrades, Miss Pierce could feel @fraga bend time if only momentarily. His action, though minuscule in scope, lifted her spirits. He'd be useful on the battlefield. "This is gonna be good." She whispered to herself. No doubt plotting plans in the wake of devastation. Until then she took a deep breath before throwing herself out of her aerial transport.

Like Lucifer before her, the Mistress of Mayhem descended from the heavenly skies above. Unlike him, however, her beauty and grace would no longer be subjugated to the depths of obscurity. Instead she'd come to liberate, serve, and protect in ways that God himself refused to do. Her divine intervention would be remembered for years and years to come.

In this very second she knew no fear. Her mental faculties extended outward from the depths of her brain by manifesting a telekinetic sword from her right forearm. Without much effort she swung her arm to the left, causing the telekinetic sword to break through a large apartment complex some feet away from @supreme_chancellor and his ebony attired ally.

The chilling wind splitting between her person excited her state of being as she bolted down to the ground. She could feel every single heartbeat. The anticipation for action only elevated by her closing proximity to enemy combatants. Her thirst would have to wait if only for a few more minutes. Miss Pierce still had work to do and she'd do just that. With that in mind, she quickly propelled herself off the apartment building by redistributing the telekinetic energy from her forearm to push back in her direction like an energy blast. She'd fly backwards, flipping with the momentum and landing perfectly on the back of her heels. Her arms extended outward and a smile on her face, Miss Pierce would curtsy to whomever witnessed her stylistic entrance.

"Boys, the calvary is here!" Clarice Michelle proudly exclaimed, casually teleporting @_envy_ and @belle_nightingale to their location. Their reactions from being teleported were none of her concern, but there existed the possibility of feeling side effects akin to taking a spoonful of Pepto Bismol. Nevertheless, she considered their feelings irrelevant in regards to the more important matters at hand. Namely watching @soulsexodus walk into certain death.

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#30 Edited by Cassius_Knightfall (12577 posts) - - Show Bio

Downtown , Gothic City Negative 1400 hours- For those of you who need it, you know who you are.

A distant whisper entered the living weapons mind. A faint echo that pulsed the subtlety of the words gentle as a breeze. "Romeo , sixty, grey, barrell, follow, 4, surrender." His eyes glazing over as his mind went into an input state and the whispers taught him their little secrets, willing him into action. Minutes passed as he stood frankly comatose before a shiver ran through him and his eyes reopened with a fire like intensity "Mission Parametres accepted" Turning towards the nearest wall he pulled his hand back and fired it with frank disregard into the breezeblocks.

"Boom", "Boom" "CRACK"

Stepping free form his cell into a sea of onrushing unformed police a dozen barrels pointing at him "Hands up, dont try it". Placing both hands behind his head he aloud two of them to approach him. Waiting till they where just close enough he sprang smashing his metallic forearm forward crushing one of them between himself and the wall. An audible crunch as metal and bone collided causing the defender of the law to fall to the floor blood pouring through his eyes. Grabbing the second by the belt and holding him ahead as he advanced on the remaining targets. His left hand pulling the officers firearm from his belt leveling it off on his hostages shoulder and placing carefully controlled shots into his assembled audience. The arnage drawing the attention of yet more police. Spotting and arms locker the rampaging renegade tore it from the wall disregarding his small arm for a semi automatic rifle and a shotgun.

Following his photographic short term memory back towards the reception, turning a corner and finding an on rushing officer , who quickly made a tactical retreat

blood arnold schwarzenegger james cameron the terminator sarah connor

But he was not quick enough, 12 gauge to the spine sending him flying to the floor. His only word as he turned "Reykjavik". More police man lost their lives that night and in his hastyness the living weapon did not destroy the security feed. ...

Iceland - current time

The sky above the road lit up like the dawn had broken over his head. A burst of energy slamming into the road behind the vintage american muscle causing the car to momentarily lose control as the very ground quaked sending debris skyward as the rubber of the tires howled. Rapidly adjusting the steering wheel to regain control the living weapon continued shooting like a crimson bullet along the highways of iceland. The sky opening again like the very wrath of zeus was raining down on him, a great hiss and violent burst of light rocking the car as its ancient suspension nearly gave the whole car bouncing from the surface of the road as the second blast tore half the paneling off the drivers side. The shock causing even the brainwashed warrior to adjust his focus half blind from the brightness and shock of the blast. His foot still firmly planted ETA was less than 3 minutes to target.

Swerving in the vacated roads making and further shots harder to aim he looked down at the speedo still hitting over 70 mph. The sky lighting up once more as he hit the slip road to his target the building was in sight, forced to slow as the road became more pedestrian the approaching light smack overhead. The floor ahead lit up and then the world turned upside down. The vintage muscle car flipping over end on end as the blast tore the car in half catapulting the living weapon free of the wreckage and sending his flying like a human cannon ball into the street. Hitting the ground heavily causing a small trickle of blood to fall from his mouth as he pulled himself back to his feet. His once steely robot reserve momentarily shaken. Gingerly limping under cover before once again advancing on his target through nearby buildings beeline through wall after all with the heavy strikes of his metallic limb.

Reaching the foot of what he believed to be one of the ten SED control centers. He reached for his weapons and stepped inside prepared to kill any who would stand in his way.

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#31 Posted by Fraga (1163 posts) - - Show Bio

@supreme_chancellor: @clara_mass: @soulsexodus:

Slow. Dangerous but slow. Gazing upon their foes, it was how Fraga had assessed them. And as one attacked X, his Unsung King, another had come for him. A synthetic twin of it's creator, it leaped forward. And if Fraga were to have his way, that would be the end of that. His foe would have leaped into the air, armed with a great and gleaming sword, and in that moment were it hung airborne, time was held hostage, frozen for a tenth of a second. And once it was freed? Time would be flow as it normally would, and if successful, his foe's scorched and flaming bits would scatter all about them, courtesy of an incendiary grenade, one whose heat was thousands of degrees Fahrenheit.

And in it's wake, the Dim Mak Shinobi strode forward, trailed by a confidence that told of a man who believed every battle was his to stride into and win. At the sight of the robot swarm, Fraga glanced at X. 'Let me handle the other one. The one who isn't attacking yet', the original, he meant. He leaped over the swarm of robots, and his eyes set on the man who controlled them. Fraga rose to his feet, and engaged him before his foe's attempted blitz. And here, now, the Dim Mak Shinobi attacked with footwork, the kind that seized angles and forced the opponent into the worst of positions. The taller, rangier and perhaps faster of the two, Fraga began, flashing jab after jab after jab before stepping into a stiff power-jab, his every strike thrown with the goal of drawing a response from his adversary.

And a response/counter would come. It should. After all, why wouldn't it? Why wouldn't his foe try to neutralize the Dim Mak Shinobi's longer reach by countering his jab? Lest he be content with being struck by power that numbered in many a ton. He was hoping for it. He was hoping for a counter. Hoping that his adversary responded with a slash or thrust or blast from his sword, all of which would come with some sort of wind up. A wind up ready to be exploited. Should his foe bite the bait and wind up his counter? Fraga would respond by countering the counter. A blur in the wind, he'd step right up to his foe, swing and bend his arm into an arc and see his fist blitz towards his foe's liver with a vicious claw strike; superheated claws of harder-than-diamond silicon carbide flash-forging at his fingertips to tear away his foe's flesh and superheat his liver without mercy.

The Dim Mak Shinobi
The Dim Mak Shinobi

The claw strike mimicked the motion of a left hook. Why? Because should his adversary had responded with a swing of his sword, his extended arm would leave the ribs over his liver fully extended and exposed. An opening the Dim Mak Shinobi would not waste. Ah but the claw strike itself was a set-up. The severity it threatened, the danger it posed, all meant to force his foe to circle away from his left and into his right... precisely the inside angle where Fraga's patented head kicks were strongest. Fraga'd turn his hips, pivot his anchoring foot and bring his leg up. And as his foe circled into the path of a thunderous head kick, Fraga's shin would blitz his chin with the kind of speed and explosiveness rarely seen, even among metahumans.

Returning to an orthodox stance, making himself seem out of position, Fraga sought to dupe his opponent into coming forward before dropping his weight and arcing a left uppercut that roared and hoped to smash into the pit of his foe's gut. Fraga was dangerous. A Dim Mak specialist whose every strike targeted the vital points that held the biophysical energies, the life-force in every living thing's body. His jabs, head kick and uppercut, every punch and kick save for his claw strike targeted his opponent's vital points. They'd stop cellular respiration, inhibit and destroy his mitochondria (the source of energy in cells), and interrupt his body's electron transfer in a violent bid to sap his adversary's body of the energy it needed to work... and live.

First it would be a seizure, then weakness, then a coma, then death. Here and now, Fraga the tactician, the martial arts technician, sought to 'deactivate' his opponent's body by disabling it's ability to use it's own energy. Success or not, the danger of engaging him, the Dim Mak Shinobi, in close combat, was clear.

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#32 Edited by Supreme_Chancellor (1278 posts) - - Show Bio

@fraga: @soulsexodus:

With a frenetic rate the E.X.O.D.U.S robot's were rapidly deconstructed, a swarming armada of them bursting into the fray as Weapon X felt them multiply to a near incalculable level. As one more joined in, twenty of their metal brothers were stripped down, piece by piece, until their very existence were nanobots-like. The sea of metal was unlike anything X had seen before; having never partaken in a battle of this magnitude even during the original Venezuelan wars, briefly fighting alongside Xenon and his father, the Supreme Chancellor.

The Devil's Heir found himself swamped, the metallic nanobots piling upon his body until he was no longer visible. He felt ribs crack and muscles ache, the very armor protecting his flesh and bones started to become undone, the vibranium unable to absorb the weight of this sea...


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Like a phoenix rising from the ashes or the devil from the pit of hell, an electromagnetic sphere engulfed the Devil's Heir as the metallic swarm was violently pushed back, sending pieces of deadly shrapnel in nearly all directions (but missing all allies due to his metal manipulation). This fool, this child, dare attacks me with my own weapon? Humanity truly is as narrow-minded as I have always thought. Weapon X had grown both tired and mentally fatigued over this little fight; this distraction. For that was what this was. A delay of the inevitable.

With nothing more than a telepathic gesture, the Prince of Darkness addressed Fraga. "This is just one battle midst a larger war my friend, I must command our forces for a moment and disallow myself to be tied down in this distraction. Let us end this swiftly." As one final gesture, the Unsung King levitated into the air and locked onto Exodus, utilizing the re-purposed nanobot swarm as a little blood ran down his nose, until his mouth and finally down his chest. Pathetic. He thought, wondering how in a million lifetimes he had allowed someone to draw blood upon his perfect visage. To end this.

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With the power of the metallic sea, the Sociopathic Scion sought to assist Fraga where he could. Each strike which his foe landed, each opening, each defense, where Fraga sought to wound and where Exodus sought to block, the Prince of Darkness would hurl sharpened and shaped pieces of deadly metal hurtling towards Exodus' vulnerable areas. The man sought to block a strike upwards? X would send a blitz of a hundred blades of sea-like proportions to his unprotected areas, and where he sought to go intangible? It would be of no matter, without tangibility it was impossible to attack Fraga or himself, but if he went tangible? He would find himself battered and beaten by the combined martial prowess of the Dark Shonobi and the Mutant Might of the Unsung King; Exodus had but one tactic today. Escape, or die.

But one certainty had been enacted. A vendetta had been born. Weapon X would undoubtedly seek out this attacker in the aftermath of this battle; of this war. And he would gladly strike him down.



Concurrent to his bombardment, the Omega mutant telepathically conveyed a message to an ally. It had been not long ago that the Prince of Darkness had intercepted a psionic presence of a mighty foe. Clara Mass would be the perfect countermeasure. "Clarice, there is an opponent not unlike yourself upon the battlefield. I am imparting apsionic map into you now, find, locate, and destroy this opponent." He left a final message. "I trust you."

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#33 Edited by Last_Guardian (32162 posts) - - Show Bio

@cassius_knightfall: @soterichor@ali_sani_bashir: @thisisgonnahurt: @valken:

Jacob had put his old costume away a long time ago, along with the memories of March 18, 2009. But now here he was, holding the familiar white cowl, thinking about doing something that perhaps he shouldn’t.

This costume...it symbolized his every failure, his every loss. Despite this, Jacob kept it hidden away, even going as far as to alter it with every inch he grew and with every pound of muscle he added. Nothing he tried, however, could remove the deep red blood stains all along the suits abdominal area. Eventually he gave up on that. The streaks of blackened-crimson would have to become a part of the costume itself, a badge of dishonor that he’d wear proudly.

The moment he slipped it back on, he was transported to a time long gone when he’d sneak out at night under his parents' nose and run around town exacting his amateur brand of justice. While under the hood, he ignored the bad memories, because under the hood, he was no longer the Last Guardian, held back by principles, governments, and a smug sense of moral superiority. Under the hood, he was no longer Jacob Grayson, the scared little boy that had lost everything and now fought for everyone. Under the hood, he was no one.

He was a Ghost.

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A Ghost in Gothic City

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I leap from the rooftop of a dilapidated liquor store onto the cracked pavement of the Gothic City street. This whole place is falling apart. The Guardian would never have ventured here, but he’s a coward.

The imposing solid brick building in front of me is where it all went down. This is where the fugitive escaped police custody. It hasn't made the news yet, of course. Uncle Sam would never admit to such a rousing defeat.

The place is crawling with cops. How do I get in?

I nonchalantly walk up to the front of the building, hands high in the air. Naturally the already very-much on-edge Gothic City policemen point their weapons at me. It’s like they’ve never seen a guy in a costume before.

I flick my wrist, forming a small semi-circle with my hand. “You will get back to the precinct. The commissioner needs your assistance.”

One by one, they lower their weapons and in unison reply, “We will get back to the precinct. The commissioner needs our assistance.”

I can’t help but smirk behind my mask as I watch the officers piling into their cars. Weak-willed idiots. No wonder Gothic is such a funking shithole.

Without hesitation I run into the front entrance under the cover of the Force. Some of the officers on duty wrinkle their brows and look around as I pass them in the hallways. Deep down, they know something’s there, they just don’t know what, and they never will.

The hallways leading to the Maximum Security portion of the prison is closed off with yellow tape, blood and guts splattered against the walls. The police officer taking notes at the end of the hallway seems to see me. She draws her gun, but just as quickly, I take it out of her hands with a pull of telekinetic energy. She tries to yell, but in less than a second I’m on her. She's thrown against the cement wall, hits it hard, and bounces onto the floor. When she moves to attack once more, I press my gun to her skulI and she immediately freezes mid-motion. I’d never kill an upstanding officer of the law. But she doesn’t know that.

I speak, my voice considerably deeper than the Guardian's ever was You’ve got a lot of cameras here. Tell me, did the killer destroy the tapes before his escape?"

“I’m not talking to you, Icelandic scum!” she courageously spits back and suddenly I’ve got a new crush.

“Sorry to disappoint you, hon, but I’m not from Iceland." And neither is the killer. "But I’m trying to get to the bottom of this whole mess and I could use your help. Let’s face it, in a couple hours the CIA will probably bust in here with their purple head socks and confiscate all of it anyway. Then what? If it doesn’t fit their agenda they’ll sweep it all under the rug. No one will ever do anything about all these dead cops."

She doesn't budge, so I press the gun harder against her head and speak slowly, each word dripping with unabashed sincerity. “Show me the tapes and little Zoe and little Brad can keep their mommy.” She whimpers at the mention of her children's names. At least, I think those are her children. Those were the first two names that popped into her mind when I pointed the gun at her.

Without further trouble, she led me to the tapes and I watched them with her. I think deep down she knew I wouldn’t hurt her, or she was at least scared enough that she powered through the bargaining stage.

But he was not quick enough, 12 gauge to the spine sending him flying to the floor. His only word as he turned "REYKJAVIK". More police man lost their lives that night and in his hastiness the living weapon did not destroy the security feed...

- Cassius Knightfall

"What did he say?" I whisper, noticing the subtle quiver of his lips when he got shot.

"I didn’t hear anything."

"Yeah...here. Play it back, turn up the audio, slow it down a bit. He said something."

She does as she’s told, and soon I've got my lead.

"Thank you doll. Now...." I say waving my fingers in front of her face. "Take a short nap, you’ve had a long day. When you wake up, go home and spend some time with your kids. You’re a brave woman."

I depart without another word, the officer laying her head down on the security console and falling into a deep, satisfying slumber

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#34 Posted by General_Kanos (279 posts) - - Show Bio


General Johansson's ships were the ones under attack by the Andromedan mechs. Their ships were relatively evenly matched, with almost equal losses on both sides, which would have been acceptable, were Iceland not outnumbered ten to one. The Antimatter Analyst turned to a subordinate. "Release the freaks."

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Deep in the bowels of the ship, two glowing cages held two secret weapons. They were not here of their own accord, but instead captured and sued as weapons. The cages electrified, sending both into a rage. A shaft of light appeared, and the two were loaded into cannons. Crude, but effective. One was a hulking, green behemoth, the other a red-skinned, leather-clad woman. Both would attempt to tear the massive mechs apart, and rend open any Andromedan ships nearby.


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Kanos saw the cannons turn towards him, despite the trick he had pulled with the polarity. Still, he waited. He saw the Sociopathic Scion attempt to fire them. Still he waited. Nothing happened.

Surely, the would-be conqueror did not think they had no failsafes, in the event of weapons being used against them? The entire fleet was a deadline to the guns, they could not fire on their own men. Kanos remotely shut the cannons down, and began to reconsider. One of his soldiers wore very little metal on him, just the rims of his protective goggles. Stefan Agnarsson could project explosions from his extremities, allowing him to fly, and Kanos transmitted the new instructions to his earpiece. Agnarsson turned from the plane he was dismembering, and shot towards the ongoing battle between the Knightfall Nightmare, and the Prince of Darkness, intending to rip off the protective helmet X wore, and hit him as hard as possible, an explosion that would blow him apart.


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Maxwell saw an alert on his screen. He opened it, next to his map of the battlefield, ordering Electrum Team to return for repairs, and deploying a team of bombers to the front lines, raining fire on the American troops. The alert was of a security breach in one of the SED control centers. If it was destroyed, the SED would take months to repair, leaving Iceland exposed for another attack. The assailant had been logged by Astrid, though she marked him as dead. Clearly, a resident one, perhaps a metahuman. Maxwell deployed someone to take care of him quickly.

Tryggvi's spear glowed red, and he 'ported into the SED control center in a burst of flame. He slashed it in the air, sending a wave of flame towards Cassius. "You made a mistake coming here. I will rectify it. With your life."

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#35 Edited by femme_finale (42 posts) - - Show Bio

Is this it?! Astrid growled as her overconfidence peaked. She could swing back to aid her comrades, but to be honest, she hardly cared about them. If they were strong, they would survive. X was certainly one such creature. His power was immense, more than she could have imagined. If anyone was worth saving, it was him. And he did not need it. Though his reversal of their weapon systems had failed, it still managed to take them out of the conflict. A win-win for the mutant mastermind.

She was the Femme Finale, and this would be only the first country to crumble in her wake.
She was the Femme Finale, and this would be only the first country to crumble in her wake.

Instead of aiding her comrades, the Lady Apocalypse, intent on further destruction, made her way further into the militarized area. She stepped fearlessly, bullets and laser attacks breaking and falling away as they came in contact with her verdant skin. She was slowly learning how to continuously absorb the incoming kinetic force enacted upon her. Her gaze intended to wreak havoc upon the assailants, releasing an optic blasts upon any one she saw and any weapon or ship that she saw. Her goal was to devastate the environment, topple every last bit of infrastructure that could contribute to their opponents' success.

With each muscle movement, she stored the bio-electrical impulses created by her nervous system. When she felt she had reached a reasonable epicenter yet unaffected by the battle, she dropped to one knee. Her fist tightened as she pressed it to the pavement. Astrid felt the vibrations, the electrical currents, the heat radiating from the advanced systems in place. Her hair began to spread from static as her electric energy festered. Pulling her fist up, she slammed it back down onto the pavement. From her verdant body emanated an Electromagnetic Pulse spreading rapidly in all directions for a radius of twenty miles in an attempt to take out whatever communications, weapon systems, and labs within the area. Once she had recharged this ability, she would continue her trek of disarmament and destruction.


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#36 Posted by Alpha_Dog (1046 posts) - - Show Bio

@general_kanos: @supreme_chancellor:

Heh, kid thinks he can give me orders. That's cute.

Dog had been shadowing X for some time; the feral mutant having been instructed by Ivana to "keep an eye on" the enigmatic figure that had burst on the scene and somehow managed to incite a major war almost immediately. He'd been in the game long enough to catch the double meaning: keep X alive, but make sure he doesn't try anything that could threaten the Shogunate. Either way, Dog would be getting his claws bloodied, so the mission suited him just fine.

Snide thoughts aside, he did almost follow through on the orders, as the scrapper pointed out by X did honestly look like he'd put up a decent fight, but it was then that his sharp sense picked up on the approach of Stefan Agnarsson. Pegging the newcomer as the bigger threat, the mutant commando made a snap decision and burst from the shadows, vaulting off a chunk of debris and using his superhuman strength to hurl himself into the path of the living ballistic missile. He had no idea what Agnarsson's skills or abilities were, and he honestly didn't care; whatever damage his vibranium bodysuit didn't absorb, he was counting on his own toughness and healing factor to handle. As he leapt, he pulled two of his vibranium blades, flinging his arms wide and looking to bury each in either side of his enemy's torso as they impacted.

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#38 Posted by Beyond (273 posts) - - Show Bio

Along the Shore

Moses rested the reigns of the white stallion he sat upon, tightly in his grip. The firmness of his jade eyes rested upon the oncoming invasion to Iceland. The echoes of warfare had already set upon the nation, defense would have to carry a miracle alongside to stand a chance against the kind of numbers coming towards them.

Only hours before the war came to Iceland, Moses stowed away on an international flight to Iceland in hunt. For weeks on end, Beyond's barrels nipped at his current target's heels. Anthony C. Hall. Son of a Brazilian playboy with more contacts and bank accounts than could be counted on a hundred hands. Somebody that well off would seemingly be well taken care of. And he was. Cars, Houses, Women, at the snap of a finger. The flow of money left a mile long paper trail directly after Anthony, even when he discovered the price on his head he kept the same credit card to pay for his plane tickets out of the country.

Within the week, Moses had killed Anthony in his safehouse. The bodyguards he requested hadn't even arrived before the Lead Eagle had left the scene.

Now, whatever man hunt may have been looking for the bounty hunter before he could escape the country would be put on hold.

Honestly, Moses held no ties with Iceland. This was only his second time visiting the country, but frankly some form of obligation was met. Sure, Iceland was one of the most militarized nations in the world, and it's policies were pretty extreme. But one couldn't help but feel bad for them while being bombarded by Maverick and the United States. And judging by the alerts on his rapidly buzzing smartphone, the odds obviously weren't in their favor.

Moses skidded his spurs along the thighs of the mustang, sending it running ahead across the shore. His gloved fist tugged up the bandana around his neck, until the rim of it rested underneath of his eyes. Considering his base of operations was located in the continental US, taking precautions for identify protection were always necessary. Especially with the crackdown on ability blessed individuals.

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The white horse pulled itself along the roadway, slowing to a halt as he tugged it's reigns back. Moses set his eyes ahead, gazing for maybe the lower end force of the invasion. Judging by the sights taken in on just the two minute trod to his current position, this was going to be marked down as almost a small war. And the Gunman had no intention of being a casualty in it.

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#39 Posted by Supreme_Chancellor (1278 posts) - - Show Bio


With no more than a sharp glance upwards, the Devil's Heir's inner eyes flared angelic white. It was clear that this battle would last too long with mere brawn, instead, the Prince of Darkness would start telepathic might in conjunction with Fraga's own unparalleled martial arts dominance.

Alone, the Unsung King was perhaps an outstanding telepath. An omega mutant if there ever was one. He could invade a mind protected by a thousand defenses across the Atlantic ocean or turn even the most hardened individual's into his lackey -- As he had done to Cassius Knightfall, the unfortunate soul. But among other mutants? Other X-Gene baring individuals? His powers were amplified tenfold, and then some.

Despite not being at the same power levels his father was when he had soundly devastated the minds of Ivana, Rafael, Asherah and others all at once in a single blow, a blow which had left a telepathic rift within the very fabric of space and time... X was still powerful.

Iceland was host to a populace of approximately twenty percent mutant and an innumerable array of X-Gene carrying military were on scene, amplifying Weapon X's mind to beyond anything an individual telepath could posses. The Prince of Darkness sought to latch onto the Knightfall Bane's mind; entering it like a bullet through his skull.

If he had succeeded, X would follow through with his attack.

One Shotokan Devil was dangerous; two, an inescapable death.

But what about twenty? Thirty, one hundred, even?

Preternaturally, around five black clad warriors, perfectly mimicking Fraga in appearance and technique would appear within the battlefield. All of them, seeking to destroy and confuse the Surgical Specter. Normally a mere illusion would be harmless, but these? Upon contact, if a claw were to strike Exodus' unarmored body they would trigger his pain systems as though he was actually being slashed. If he were punched, it would feel like a real punch, with no noticeable discrepancy of pain to differentiate from the real thing.

Every five seconds; another Shotokan Devil would appear. And other, and other -- Until Exodus was overloaded and overworked, and ultimately completely outmatched.

Towards Fraga, the real, Fraga, X had already tried to establish a mental connection with the Dark Shinobi, allowing his lethal battlefield bodyguard to see and even control the faux Shotokan Devil's where required.

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Concurrent to his telepathic machinations, he would craftily make sure none of the metal used to attack the Knightfall Nuisance would impair his ally, Fraga. Instead, all of the metal would seek to further wreck hell upon his opponent as it spontaneously took to the ground and slithered like a snake; encircling Exodus and growling closer, attempting to wrap itself around his legs and squeeze, both ruining his ability to move via crushing his bones and muscles, or at least, hampering his ability to move.

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#40 Posted by Cascade_ (124 posts) - - Show Bio

@clara_mass: @the_reality_sage:

Mangled and tossed about like a puppies chew toy the building was decimated. Shattered to a point of unrecognizable proportion thanks to an impact that rivaled nuclear detonation in its ferocity. Scattered and caved in was a large section of earth, it'd probably have been more if not for the technological innovations of Iceland that had mitigated radius and collateral damage. As dust and smoke clouded the air in a large and rippling mass however Casca found it wasn't all her doing. Someone was reacting to her dynamic entry, she could also tell she'd missed her target. She made a move reminiscent to one of modern ages most volatile weapons, but unlike such ordinance she didn't have an on board computer guiding the shot. She'd leveled a base and surounding structures but not necessarily enough to cripple the enemy.

And to her for that miscalculation she was punished. The surounding wasteland collapsed on top of her buried beneath the wreckage she'd crafted. And as a sink hole like fabrication came the false god plummeted far below. Soon enough she was about forty feet below the chaos above. On top of her several tons of earth granite and remains of infrastructure. She was in a tomb like foundation of structural remains, her body screaming from lacerations. It was to dark for her to gauge the damage however nor did she have the time. What she could though was move her hand, and had a few inches to move. That was all it would take, for she had the physical might of a god, even if she didn't think herself one.

She punched, it was a small motion, a jab that from most would be harmless. It was hard to generate much force behind such a minimal space for wind up. Her strength though had no limits, could be thousands upon thousands of times stronger then a man's by her choosing. The earth rumbled quaked its way on to the Richter scale, though minimal compared to some other activities on the field. The new age Ares needn't send a shiver down the worlds spine just free herself. Which she did, her punch causing a geyser of wreckage to reach for the heavens. A few of the bits and pieces licked the skies ravaging aircraft that'd been leaving the near by bases or coming in for repairs and rearming. A cascade of ruin falling like rain as the mother of war rose from what some might say should have been her tomb.

Armor repaired and skin healed as Cascade plucked a pole from her shoulder. Her bones were resilient for a decapitation would be her end, her flesh though was just flesh. As an addict of conflict her rise to divinity decreed she feel the burning sting of battle. She had to live and breath turmoil both in the ferocity it could bring to others and on her. Blowing the hair from her face she looked along the horizon for the one responsible. Only to find X was sending someone after her asailant, from what she could faintly see the woman looked some what familiar.

However she'd never guess who it was, for the image Casca had of Clara was made by televised politics not of war. So all she saw was an ally good to be had but arguably treading on Casca's turf in terms of sportsmanship. The floating caped elemental Casca saw as her own target to destroy. And so she raced forward once more causing to air to scream as she flew at the speeds akin to her comet like entrance. She moved at just over seven thousand miles per hour, swinging with several hundred tons of force behind her swing. The iron rod in her hand used like a bat raced for the brow of her magical assailant. A speed and force behind the motion that would turn the blood stained rod that impaled her and used for a bat into dust. Looking to capitalize however on close proximity she also would look to jab her shield into her adversaries gut. It's edge taking on a edge on a nanomolecular level hopefully spilling the guts of her foe.

Cascade saw herself as a hero, and wanted better for the world. The caped crusaders of the modern age though were tame, looking to cells and laws. A view that was weak, she decided on an Old Testament approach of ending evil as finite as one could.

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

He trusts me, she pondered the sentiment. How stupid of him, she deduced. Her apathy for his reaffirmation related to the fact that he threatened her son for her cooperation. So, if it weren't for that string of attachment she held onto for her son then she wouldn't have even came.

What purpose would she have had in Iceland if not for the maniacal mutant? Regardless, she'd complete her end of this bargain with the sole intention of getting herself rid of the @supreme_chancellor. One way or another.

"Let's get this over with,"she commanded. Like a Quentin Tarantino femme fatale, she approached aesthetically gorgeous in terms of layered hair extensions and an outfit that accentuated her natural curves. Also, she nonchalantly swung around an ebony katana sword she lifted from her time at the Knightfall Museum. Good times.

Her trek through the rubble created by numerous impactful falls was cut short, much to her annoyance, when another super powered wannabe (@cascade_) made herself known. Boastful, brave, and salivating at the mouth to make a name for herself. At least that's what the violet eyed vixen presumed when she watched her more muscled counterpart charge forward without any sense of finesse.

"I didn't come here to play games. I came here to win." Brutality was very unbecoming. One false move and her ally would be open to a number of attacks, especially if their opponent's powers were tethered to the strings of reality like her own. Clarice didn't like the idea of protecting someone she didn't know, but her strength would prove wonders in what she planned for @the_reality_sage.

The iron rod in her hand was used like a bat aimed for the magical assailant's cranium. "Heavy hitter," whatever Miss Pierce said came into existence and like that sheadded weight worth two tons onto the iron rod. Which in turn meant a connecting hit against his head would render him unconscious or dead at best.

Matter manipulation was tricky and she knew it, because although the chances at working were great there was also the chance of her being countered within seconds. Clarice couldn't put much thought to that, because she'd leave herself vulnerable to anything that her male opposite could muster. Knowing full well that he could dodge her comrade's iron rod, Miss Pierce banked on the mysterious magician being stunned by the shield hitting his gut. He if were stunned it'd make the following move more effective and possible at connecting.

"HIYAH!" Miss Pierce spun around, lunging her katana sword horizontally. With the addition of her telekinesis pushing the projectile forward, the Mistress of Mayhem intended to have the spinning sword cut him at the knees while her ally handled his upper abdomen.

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#42 Posted by Lords_Of_Light (185 posts) - - Show Bio


Galias & Beatrice

So far the battle was going strong, the orbital knights were racking up kills in the sky competing to see who could garner the most. This was the number one spot on the line after all, so far Beatrice was in the lead forcing Galias to get desperate. He was acting more reckless, determined to stop his female counterpart from taking his spot. The blue aura of his vibrating blade moved as another enemy craft flew toward him opening fire, it's weaponry was met with his shield as he charged forward. The Craft pulled up and he followed, the mecha frame's shield won the battle with any of these crafts through not only it's strength but it's maneuverability as well. Now he was at the tail of what could only be considered an expendable craft. Raising his shield he increased his speed to max slamming into the engine of the fighter, then with one clean slash of his blade the ship fell in two. He let out a hearty chuckle which could be picked up on all ends of the comm systems. Lady Beatrice spoke up

"Calm yourself Galias and don't get too cocky. This is still an unknown enemy and your life should be worth more then some little competition."

"I think your just scared I'm going to maintain my number one spot, besides if they could have stopped us they would've done it already."

It was almost perfect foreshadowing as through the air a strange projectile was launched from the larger crafts straight towards Galias. This was his chance to rack up another point and to show off his fancy flying. He increased his thruster speed to Mach 5 and headed straight towards the weapon. As he approached his sensors revealed this not to be a projectile but a large green creature, either way a kill was a kill. He readied his blade waiting for the creature to get just close enough.. and swing.

Over the comm system all Beatrice could hear was a blood curdling scream of pain, the sound only made when true agony was presented upon someone. She turned her attention to the west where she saw what she could only assume was Galias's frame plummeting towards the surface of the planet.


Her mind changed focus, throwing her thrusters into max and jettisoning off towards him. Hoping she could be of some help but instead she was none. A massive explosion came from the crash sight, using her ocular abilities she saw something emerge from the flames. Something big and green, her knuckles turned white as she clenched the flight controls of her machine. This would not go unpunished.

Her sensors picked up something coming at her from the left, she quickly swung her arm in that very direction. What she could only assume was artillery fire headed her way. Almost instinctively the gold and white shield all Orbital Knight frames had was raised to take the blunt of the blast. The impact carried her with it despite her best attempts to push back. Her thrusters were set to full power and she let out a warrior like battle cry as she tried to push the machine against whatever was coming her way. In the end it was no use as her mech ripped through the hull of one of the harrier ships slamming into the far wall of a hangar bay.

The exterior glass of her frame was cracked, displays showed major damage to her engines as well as minor damage to her left arm. It didn't matter anyway, the shield was destroyed from the blast. Across the hangar bay stood a woman with red skin, the same way the green man had walked from the flames of Galias's crash. This woman must have been the enemy and what had hit her frame, she raised her sword and charged. The massive robotic legs moved forward bringing the machine to a speed of 20 mph, Beatrice's right hand slammed the control stick to the left. Mimicking this motion the machine brought the sword in a wide arc aimed at the red woman's chest and seeking to sever it from the rest of her body.

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#43 Edited by Belle_Nightingale (179 posts) - - Show Bio
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The field of battle moved quickly, for one who had been silent for so long. It seemed she had barely even arrived at the scene, her goal still somewhat murky, before she was teleported (rather messily) to another place and pointed at another target.

Teleporting, unfortunately, had exhibited a massively destructive effect on her barely-solid physiology, dispersing her body completely into a wave of ash-like vapor. By the time her body had formed into a single, cohesive, semi-solid whole once more, the target was out of sight -- and the hulking, feral man that had "traveled" alongside her was gone as well. All that surrounded her now was madness. Blood, chaos, combat. People fighting, people dying. A few she recognized from the dossiers she'd been given, recognized targets. Officers, high-profile soldiers, the occasional low-end enhanced "asset" sent into the field to die with the other grunts. Others she recognized as being part of this little crusade that Belle herself had been recruited into. The woman with the wings, she recognized. The man with the claws. X himself, not that she could see him at her current location. She took a moment to sort herself, go through what she remembered and the tiny amount of information she'd been given before the spit had, metaphorically, hit the fan.

She was here to fight, and kill, and she had agreed to that. All in the name of protecting metahumans and keeping the balance between those who would evolve, and those who would hold back the evolving.

Her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword, the Lash of the Tyrant, that dark artifact that had brought her back to life, given her form. She hadn't even noticed that she'd unsheathed it, didn't remember taking it into her hand. It throbbed with its dark desire, a will to be used for whatever purpose, whispering promises of carnage and vengeance and bloodshed into the mind of the Drowned Woman, the banshee, Belle Nightingale.

"Use what I've given you," it whispered to her, burbling messages, the sounds of slurping and a soft wind, all caressing her mind from the inside. Such an insidious, invasive thing it was. "Use me. Destroy everything. Kill everyone."

She stared at it for a long time, into the single black, slitted, unblinking eye on the crossguard that stared back at her. If eyes could smile, this one did.

And Belle smiled back.


No Caption Provided

"Hlllkk...!" The last words of one soldier as Belle possessed his body, then re-formed herself from within him, blasting a hole in him about the size of a curvy, six foot tall woman. She phased forward, the Lash now extended into it's chain form, phasing along with her and lashing to and fro like the tail of an angry cat, neatly bisecting soldier after soldier as she moved through them. She used their soft, fleshy bodies as teleportation marks, possessing them for just a split second and then phasing through them, sending massive chunks of gore and blood shooting every which way as the White Wraith made her way through the battlefield. Where her eyes fell, where her body moved, helpless soldiers would burst. Bullets went through her like a stone through water, causing only a small ripple in her buxom silhouette before driving through the allies behind her. And each soldier that took aim either burst like the others, or felt the Lash.

"Fall back! Bullets don't do it! Prepare energy weapo--mmmpphh... mmplpph... gggrrrrlllgghhhh...."

Water gushed from the officer's overfilled lungs, dissipating before it hit the ground as he fell victim to Belle's drowning embrace, one last moment of pleasure before death overcame him.

"Oh God... oh God oh God oh fluff, we gotta get outta here, she's--" Silenced as the Lash shot through the front of his head, his body sliding down and tumbling into the trench he'd been rushing towards. A pang of guilt gave Belle pause for one moment, guilt that quickly dissipated when another storm of bullets rippled through her incorporeal body. A wave of lethal pain from her psychic, undead scream sent dozens more bodies to the ground, never to move again until they were dragged off of the bloody field of war.

Belle took in a deep, false breath, more to steady herself and relax than out of any genuine need for oxygen. The Lash slid back into a compact form, and the wraith tucked in neatly under her forearm. So much death. The blade loved it, and so, she loved it as well. But there were so many who still needed to die.

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#44 Posted by Fraga (1163 posts) - - Show Bio

@general_kanos: @soulsexodus: @supreme_chancellor:

Words. His foe spoke. And none of his words mattered. This was war. There was no place for words here. Words were used for negotiation, for diplomacy. War was born from the failure of diplomacy. The failure of negotiation. The failure of words. Words held no value here. One could not negotiate with death. Fraga's mind ignored. His opponent's blade flew, tearing through the air and threatening to eviscerate. The attack was speedy. Precise. Dangerous. Well-timed. But one could not time when time itself was held hostage. And for a tenth of a second, it was. For that subtle moment, time was frozen and the Dim Mak Shinobi sidestepped, his movement smooth and fleeting as his opponent's blade blitzed past him, it's vibrating edge no more than an inch from his torso.

A dangerous opponent indeed. Though as his foe dropped his arms and stuck his chin out with great deliberation, Fraga did not capitalize. He did not exploit. Only a novice would. A proper counter-striker, a master always creates their own openings. They never wait for the opponent to do so. Because in that wait, in the sudden emergence of an opening lied the danger of bait. Bait that the Dim Mak Shinobi was far too clever a death-dealer to take. Now and forever, he created his own openings. With feints, faked strikes, arm wiggles, what have you. There was no feint, no faked strike, nothing. He would not pounce. Instead, his senses roared and his body tensed, the sound of nanobots swarming the air echoing behind him. Chronokinesis or not, the Dim Mak Shinobi dodged all he could.

He bobbed and weaved, side-stepped, and felt his musculoskeletal system move smoother than silk. And it was not enough. It didn't matter how quick, how agile, how in control his movements were. The nanobots, sharper than glass, came in a horde too vicious for the faint of heart, tearing through the air itself and eventually Fraga's flesh. The nanobots' volatile edges shredded his suit's armored layers and dug into his flesh, lacerating him and spilling his blood. Behind his mask, Fraga winced, and for the lacerations that covered every inch of his body, he felt a stinging heat swarm through each cut. This was dangerous. The cuts were many, and they were deep. He'd begin losing blood soon. Far too much of it. He'd be in no condition to do battle with due time. This war ended now.

No Caption Provided

He turned round, gazed upon his opponent's staff, and knew where his success now lied. And at the sight of the staff, Fraga's response was simple. He'd flick his foot up, threatening a kick to the groin while a free hand shot forward, it's fingers daring to coil round his foe's blade. His armor had regenerated, his hand was gloved and armored, his flesh never came in contact with the staff, it did him no harm. He'd grab the staff. Why? Because twirling, rotating, the transition between offense and defense did not exist when a polearm/staff/spear was grabbed. Once grabbed by an opponent, a polearm/staff/spear was vulnerable. The opponent's balance would need to be disrupted. His foe would have little choice but to forcefully pull the staff away while back-stepping, winding the weapon in a large circle against Fraga's thumb, thrust forward while back-stepping, or throwing the staff across their body before Fraga dared trap it under his arm, in which case abandoning the weapon and grappling was the best course of action.

All were favorable responses. Any of which would come should his foe prove competent with his weapon. And while his foe found himself desperate to break his staff from the Dim Mak Shinobi's hold, Fraga would yank on the staff while stepping forward, his other arm bending as he threw a short and blitzing elbow-strike, his other hand creating the sudden vacuum to force his elbow and his foe's temple to meet in a spectacle of violence. And why the elbow? Why not an uppercut? Because the arc of an elbow is shorter and more linear than that of a punch. The elbow was a much faster strike, and far more difficult to predict. The kind of strike that can be thrown immediately after a punch. The kind of strike that when combined with Fraga's rare, almost supernatural quickness, would be difficult to predict even for a foe of comparable speed. And it was with this elbow that the Dim Mak Shinobi sought to end his adversary's life.

It's power and speed was great, but where the untrained mind saw an elbow targeting the skull, Fraga saw an elbow targeting a vital point in his foe's head, one that would stop the respiration and destroy the mitochondria in many a cell in his opponent's brain. The end-result? A vegetable. The elbow-strike sought to dry enough cells from his foe's brain of their energy till he fell brain-dead. Fraga predicted failure. His foe had proven resilient, even against his and X's combined forces. And so, he followed, intent on confirming the kill as his hands shot out, his armor flash-forging translucent claws of disposable harder-than-diamond silicon-carbide at his fingertips. Charging them with his armor's electrical energy, Fraga sought to dig his thumbs into his foe's eyes and gouge them out their sockets while the abrupt dose of electricity threatened to burn the flesh on his face, fry the brain and central nervous system, and send his muscle fibers into an excruciating frenzy.

And as he did so, as he did battle, he felt his body waning. He was losing blood. Too much of it to perform at an optimal level for much longer. In the distance, he caught sight of an arrival, a metahuman whose body glowed bright and hurled towards X; the Unsung King. He intercepted, or hoped to, with an incendiary grenade, one that would detonate with an explosion of heat thousands of degrees Fahrenheit, all intent on scorching he who darted for X.

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#45 Posted by The_Reality_Sage (209 posts) - - Show Bio


The rubble crashed down on top of @cascade_, and a thin-lipped smile crept to the Reality Sage's lips. Turning away from the scene, he began to glide away, towards the boats that were invading, when all of a sudden the very earth shook under his feet. Stopping in his flight, he whirled around, eyeing the tomb he had left behind. How..?! Eyes widening, he raised his hands, now detecting the sign of life deep within the Earth. Raising his hands, he started to create magical shields around him, preparing for the impact, as a light yellow bubble could be seen forming around the Sage.

Then, it happened- in another moment, the earth shattered, the rubble flying up into the air before they started to rain down on the people below. Ignoring the shields now, he raised a hand and made sure that the rocks were guided to the streets, or rooftops, by the winds. Casualties were his number one concern... If a single rock would fall and crack a man's skull, it'd instantly be his responsibility. However, guarding these people left him fully open to the next attack that came his way, and it struck- a pole hitting his temple with a mighty CRACK. Even with the magical shielding, the sound that it made rang in his ears, and his shielding could be seen cracking visibly.

The next hit, he could actually see coming. Gathering the kinetic energy that was gained from the hit to his head, he used this monstrous source of energy to actually push back against the shield when it was jabbed at him, and using the woman's own strength against her- sufficiently stopping the shield in it's tracks. Now. To retaliate.

With a series of hand gestures, he gathered the energy for his next spell, and his eyes illuminated with a brilliant yellow light as he spoke in a deeper tone. "I am not your enemy." As he said this, telepathic messages were sent to Cascade, as her mind was read almost simultaneously- images of X, the leader of the invasion, standing over the bodies of those Cascade cared about- including her son. "He is. Or, rather, will b-"

Maxwell was about to continue, but all of a sudden, a blade sliced straight through the back of his knees, blood spurting to the concrete far below. Dropping the psychic link, but hoping that Cascade would indeed turn on the invading force, the Sage whirled around to scan the environment down below, finally spying the mutant that had dared to strike out at him. With a snarl, he raised his hands high in the air, calling upon the forces of air and water. Far away, the ocean's tides increased drastically, and wave upon wave crashed far past the shore, influenced by an arcane force. Meanwhile, Sage commanded the Earth beneath the mutant to close in around her.

If everything went perfectly, the girl below (@clara_mass) would not be able to move, and would indeed drown by the sheer amount of sea water colliding with her, and the other one, Cascade, would go to kill the False King.

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#46 Posted by The_Shogun (4803 posts) - - Show Bio

Expeditionary Force Epsilon

Secondary Arsenal Ship
Secondary Arsenal Ship

Ivana slouched on a folding metal chair in the helm of the 'flagship'. It was an aging cargo ship with paint that had faded to a sickly green long ago and streaks of rust down its paneled sides like bloodstains from ancient wounds.

One of fourteen cargo ships confiscated, purchased or otherwise 'acquired' by the Shogunate. Their usual cargo had been removed and the steel shipping crates filled with row after row of vertical launch platforms.

These 'improvised' or secondary missile ships could perform the duties of the Venezuelan arsenal ship at a much lower cost. Combined with the drone fleet this allowed Venezuela to project force to distant nations such as Iceland at a low cost.

The fleet of SAS ships sailed along the customary shipping lanes and been scrupulous in following every law of the sea and regulation guiding shipping in international waters. They had done nothing that would risk revealing their identity, to preserve strategic surprise.

Venezuela had deployed fourteen of the SAS ships and had never approached closer than three hundred miles from Iceland. In addition they had maintained a minimum distance of fifteen miles from each other, dispersion requiring each ship to be targeted separately by explosive or boarding action.

No Caption Provided

In the air swarmed a wave of long range, high altitude stealth drones. Launched from seaborne platforms deep in international waters they had reached their maximum altitude of 25,000ft hours ago and glided silently through the thin atmosphere, most systems disabled and trickle of power supplied by solar panels on the tops of their long wings.

AWACS platforms (Airborne Warning And Control Systems) loaded with radar, visual spectrum, infrared and ultraviolet among the swarm provided the Shogunate's force with eagle eyes at 25,000ft. High fidelity and streaming in real time to the Shogunate's ships, it ensured they had a constant and accurate picture of the battlefield.

The rest were missile drones. Inexpensive, stealthy and packed with as much firepower as they could carry. Like the ships the drone fleet maintained maximum dispersion, entering Iceland's airspace in a vast swarm spread out over a large distance, and at a very high altitude.

Shifting in the rickety chair aboard a rusting bucket packed with hundreds of cruise missiles, Ivana gave the word to Skysword and Charles.

"Okay. Do it."

They did.

Panamax class dry freight carriers weighed thousands of tons. Ivana could feel the entire ship vibrate as dozens of cruise missiles spat from the modified steel freight containers on tails of flame. Then again. Then again. And again and again and again until Ivana wrapped her cloak around her face to block out the stench of burned rocket fuel.

The scene was repeated across all fourteen cargo ships and cruise missiles streamed into the air like darts of fire spat from an angry Poseidon.

Their mission was simple. Hug the waves, flying only a few meters above the sea to obscure themselves from detection amid the ever shifting surface of the water. Because they were launched three hundred miles out from Iceland they were 'over the horizon' and thus concealed from visual detection by the curvature of the earth. They themselves could not see their own targets, instead relying on telemetry data streaming from the Shogunate's AWACS drones. Coats of radar absorbent paint would also help obscure them from detection, along with the difficulty radar have in discerning between the constantly shifting surface of the sea and a very small and fast moving projectile.

Then, once they had passed the 'last horizon' and were 'under' the Icelandic fleet they would abruptly climb. Hundreds of missiles, all coming from different angles, all moving at around five hundred miles per hour, all driving upward toward the underbellies of Iceland's capitol ships.

At the very moment of contact the warheads would detonate. Shaped charges behind a head of magnesium they would instantly melt the magnesium and drive it forward in a supersonic jet of molten metal that would simultaneously cut, melt and blast through its target.

Roughly seventy percent of the missiles were programmed to target the engines. The swarm of missiles was intended to bring down the ships by impacting the engines and destroying them, or striking a fuel line or tank and destroying the entire ship in a spectacular detonation.

The remaining thirty percent were programmed to target any launch bays along the bottom of the ship, to kill aircrew and destroy aircraft before they could be launched and to potentially kill the ship itself by detonating fuel or ammunition stored in the launch area.

But the Arsenal ships were not the only craft to launch missiles.

At twenty five thousand feet the Venezuelan missile drones had begun to fire, timing their launch so the missiles would arrive only a few seconds after the cruise missiles.

The missiles were anti-air. Each used its high launch altitude to 'pre-loft', or to climb roughly five thousand more feet. This traded potential energy of one type, fuel, for potential energy of a second type, altitude in a gravity well. It also made them lighter and thus more maneuverable by burning the majority of fuel.

Then they dived.

An anti-air missile was not bound by the physical limitations of a biological being. They could not 'G-LOC', or 'G Induced Loss of Consciousness'. A missile was also many times lighter and thus more maneuverable than a fighter. Additionally, by launching at a high altitude and then 'lofting', or gaining altitude before diving on a target, the missiles had accumulated a large store of potential energy which transformed into kinetic energy because they were now rockets diving straight down. This gave them a massive speed and maneuverability advantage on a fighter.

They were timed to arrive a few seconds after the cruise missiles were to have climbed up from the surface toward the underbellies of the Icelandic capitol ships. This was as Ivana expected Iceland to launch its fighters to engage the swarm of cruise missiles and thus protect its engines. The drone launched anti-air missiles were intended to catch the fighters intercepting low altitude targets to maximize their energy advantage and destroy the Icelandic fighters.

If, however, the fighters had not engaged the cruise missiles and were thus not swarming at a low altitude under the capitol ships then the drone launched anti-air missiles were programmed to target command centers such as bridges and sensor domes and cones.


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#47 Posted by Cassius_Knightfall (12577 posts) - - Show Bio


The living weapon still moving gingerly as his body tried to adjust back to its normal function limped forward towards his target an SED mainframe. Arriving in the clear epicenter of the operation when the air suddenly burst and fire danced across the space around him. A limb of lingering and lethal flame reaching out towards him. A voice emerging through the light and smoke "You made a mistake coming here. I will rectify it. With your life." His opponent was obviously not aware to whom he was speaking. Shielding his face from the ravages of the flame with his metallic limb. The fire passing over his arm flowing across the shiny material like liquid and pouring out over his shoulder and across the back of his armour. The heat burning the extremities of his hair and lapping at the lobe of his ears.

The pain was there and part of him did burn but only momentarily as he dropped and rolled under the stream of fire towards the target. Bring his fleshy arm up in a vicious uppercut primed at the end of his blade, the strike straight for the kill aimed at the jugular. His metallic arm whipping in toward the targets lungs, an explosive and feral strike aimed to completely empty his targets lungs with the intended effect of leaving his opponent struggling for air and primed for his execution should he somehow not be instantly cleaved across the throat.

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#49 Edited by Soterichor (1717 posts) - - Show Bio

Not a single officer present wasn't still sorely on-edge when the Guardian arrived; more like ants whose mound had been kicked than officers, they scurried about to and fro dealing with what felt like the first of many circles of a bureaucratic Hell. Rookies such as Cassandra and other newer recruits ran evidence and other errands for those with seniority, while they filled out paperwork in the form of incident reports and tried to control the situation with the higher-ups. Geez. The department really didn't need this; not with the city and its police force still barely hanging on by a thread, and certainly not with the new mayor in town.

And there was Cassandra Knight, bolting through the hallways on another evidence run when she found herself abruptly seized by an amped brand of the same off feeling bothering many of the officers. She planted dead in her tracks for just a second and, like the others, started to dismiss it—would have, were the Rapture not prodding nigh-painfully at her consciousness. Prodded, with a vague hint of a feeling that it was saying something (or would if it could), though she couldn't ascertain exactly what.

Move, it compelled her, a sharp stab ringing through her spine. And for a time she forgot about the Ziploc with the hair sample, shoving it into her pocket and starting in the direction that intuition dictated.

She missed the initial scuffle or the young officer would've jumped in without a second thought, eager for some kind of excitement—anything was better than doing housework for the old boys club—and to aid an officer in-need. In light of his threats she'd still have taken an initiative in a heartbeat.

That is, if not for the fact Cassandra felt she'd been virtually frozen out of the meaningful work. Pass up an opportunity to catch the tapes? Not a chance.

She didn't bother with the gun. She wasn't stupid, and it was pretty clear from everything around them that, for whatever she was dealing with now, no gun would cut it. With threats like these only the Rapture could give her the kind of comfort that true security would bring.

Relying on this thing for comfort...

That thought unnerved her more than the night's threats themselves.

But this one...His actions suggested he wasn't the clear-cut villain she'd prepared herself to face moments prior. A bit of an asshat, maybe, but for the sake of the investigation and the fact he didn't seem to actually do any damage, the Sanguine could turn a blind eye to that personal fault for the moment.

"Take a short nap, you’ve had a long day. When you wake up, go home and spend some time with your kids. You’re a brave woman."

"That's real kind of you, I'm touched," she stood ready to cut in as he turned around, almost certain he would've noticed her by whatever extranormal mental abilities he'd just displayed with the senior officer. "But as much as I—and I'm sure she feels the same—I appreciate your concern and help with the investigation, you and I gotta have words about all this."

"Oh, hello there, officer,"he said, never for one second breaking his stride. Dismissive, as if he expected to walk right past the rookie cop. A wave of his hand in front of her face. "I have business to attend to, so...You will step away from the doorway, now." Cassandra stood and her eyes went wide–

for about two seconds before her sharp glare returned twofold. Lifting a hand to smack his own from her face. "Not a chance asshat. You're not one of us but you know something or you wouldn't have come here looking into this. The whole department's sitting on its hands and I'm Goddamn sick of doing nothing. So what's your angle here? You know something about this guy?"

She retorted, and he stopped dead in his tracks. She couldn't make his expression beneath the mask but interpretation of his body language was either surprise, aggression, caution, or some combination. She stood ready to gut him in an instant if he moved so much as an inch to do anything but wag his chin. It'd be unfortunate to unleash the Rapture in front of guards and cameras, but her life was worth it.

Despite Cassandra's appraisal and half-expectation, he took no aggressive action. He spoke. "The only thing I know, officer, is that we're being lied to. I can see it in the eyes of every politician calling for war with Iceland. I can hear in the voice of every government shill that's been paraded in front of the cameras to give their two cents on this mystery assassin. And when I saw that tape just now, I did't see a cold-blooded killer, I saw someone whose mind was clouded, someone...being controlled. Someone out there is working very hard to maneuver the United States into an uneasy and potentially very dangerous alliance. I intend to get to the bottom of it. Something tells me I'll find what I'm looking for in Reykjavik. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like but I don't think Iceland is very welcoming this time of year."

She hadn't enough time or information to formulate her own theories, but given the circumstantial evidence this guy probably wasn't completely off. But mind control or not, whoever the fugitive was, he was trouble. He killed a lot of officers; that alone earned him her shitlist. But before she could say anything another voice, heavily accented, cut in from a dark corner in the security control room.

"I know dee man you ah seeking."

Icelandic Airspace (Present Time)

No Caption Provided

"I am so fired."

Cassandra's thoughts echoed over and over all the way to Iceland, even as the trio formulated a makeshift theory and plan. Rookie cop shirks her duties, breaks several rules including making off with evidence, and steals helicopter in order to fly unaffiliated men--one of whom threatened a senior officer--to Iceland to...what, fight in a war? Settle a personal vendetta?

Shit. Too late to dwell on regret now. If you bring him back or take him down, you're a hero.

Cassandra didn't so much fly the airplane as she negotiated with the Rapture to upgrade and fly the craft to their destination. She could've picked up a few quick skills with a piloting vid or two and her "accelerated learning curve," but even if she could fly she didn't see how a GCPD helicopter would get the group to Iceland without Rapture's particular brand of "upgrades."

It was the least she could do. As it stood, she had the least to offer and the most to gain at a glance. The one called Bashir offered to fill the gaps in the theory that this "Ghost" – God, that's so cliché! – originally provided, and give them the man most likely in charge of it all. Her? She wouldn't have even gotten that far were it not for Ghost's opening, and it was she who looked to brand herself a hero by bringing in the man who'd caused so many casualties.

It was the least she could do to provide transportation.

Guided by the hidden Guardian's extrasensory powers, boosted by the genetic (hair) sample, the crew hit Icelandic airspace on an assumed straight track to the target. Cassandra let out a sigh. Thankful the famous forcefield was gone (although she could've easily undercut that problem--not without a chute-less suicide jump herself or a direct run using the chopper's blades) and weaponsfire didn't seem to be a huge issue either.

"Well, here we are," she announced rather anticlimactically, the subtle act of asking guidance. "I can handle any AA measures, but I'm gonna need more directional guidance if we're gonna find this guy in this shitstorm."

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#50 Edited by Doctor_Wheatley (3226 posts) - - Show Bio

'The message was crisp and clear, like the warcry of a warrior this weapon X fellow had the ambition to bring an army of mutants with him for such a great and noble cause! PFFT, The message was nice and all but sadly.. I'm better than that...I'm not here for their freedom, I'M HERE FOR MY OWN. As they all valiantly fight and die, it's going to give me such great opportunities! Hundreds or many even thousands of mutant corpses ready for the taking~ Imagine the possibilities IF I CAN GET MY HANDS ON THEM! Such delicious abilities and wonders that would bring the world into awe if I could implement them into my artistry! I can never get my hands on that many just ravaging the streets so these useless wars of theirs are the only good bundles I can get..IT'S LIKE SHOPPING! Every now and then they have discounts and summer sales! Maybe I'll even scavenged some of those high tech ships for when I need them in the future! Such wonders!

For this war isn't mine to fight, but I will use its verdict nonetheless to create my own.'


Brittle,rough, dried and cracked in appearance. He was similar to the cliff side that he sat upon. Basking in the flames and vibrations of war that imitated a bright windy day, he was simply just enjoying the view. Eager to join in on their playtime and bathe in corpses of victims of both sides. He smiled, daydreaming himself in the middle of their battlefield just reaping and dismantling their prides and hopes. But of course Wheatley is not a savage man and wouldn't be fooled by the temptation of violence, FOR Wheatley THE great doctor is a noble and peaceful man and waited like a gentleman for his children to gradually make their way across the ocean. Coming in tremendous speeds his children were aggressively making their way to his calls. They were good boys and girls that obeyed him, and he thought it was time to give them a vacation and treats for their loyalty.

Coming in closer he could feel their presence getting stronger. Great big creatures scattering along the ocean floor disrupting all of the life and carving pathways. It was making him so happy that he couldn't properly express his feelings. Thick drool started to rain down from his chin as his curved smiled stretched across his face. His daydreaming got more vivid and intense as he imagined himself in the battlefield. The closer his children came the more gluttony and lust was building up. His playful imagination went from bringing soldiers to a therapy session and taking off their clothes to an extreme cluster of ripping off their skins from their bodies and plunging it in a toaster or something. "PEANUTBUTTER AND JAM ANYONE?" He accidentally screamed out loud of all the joy he was having. His breathing was getting too quick, the tension was making him too wild he couldn't just sit anymore it was driving him crazy from all the fun he was missing. The disturbed doctor began to hurt himself, scratching, eye gouging and neck snapping from the built up tension "Maybe..If..I had a little taste I could be quenched..." He held in his breath for a while thinking about it. "No. I am not an animal like them..this is what makes me special..this is what makes me better.." The doctor was slowly coming back to his mundane senses. Any trouble that he would get into would most likely escalated and jeopardized his plans. He would just have to wait out his blood lust a little longer.

'Come quickly my children for we have lots of profit to look forward to'