Shanty Town, Gothic Slums
It was forged from scrap metal, the building, as seemed all infrastructure in Gothic's slums. The criminal element was resourceful, claiming those parts spare and seizing all things possible in a city where natural resources and raw materials had grown scarce. Every attack the once great figure of metropolitan America had suffered, had led to this point. 'Gothic's Hour', Satar, the Baabda Beast often said. And by the hand of this nation's former president, Gothic had been rendered a city ripe for the taking. By law, it was a no-man's land. Declared a cancer, it no longer comprised the United States.
Its economy had plummeted and died. Its law enforcement? Disbanded and the stuff of myth. And its military support? Absent from a nation that forsook it. Instead, the city's streets, repugnant with its walls smeared with blood and excrement, were ruled by gangs, criminal factions, what have you. It was weak, this city. Marred by a despair that hung thick in the air, and patrolled by a band of vigilantes the Baabda Beast did not respect. And so, he stood on the building's rooftop, Satar. Over a frame muscled to the proportions of an ox, he wore a leather jacket, its style militaristic, and its shade onyx. His hands were tucked beneath its collar, their hold firm, and over his face? His most omnipresent feature; a mask whose design was peculiar.. bizarre even.
A cool roll of the neck, and he turned round, eyes no longer peering at the night's blackened sky. Instead, his pale eyes, icy and heartless in their gaze, rested on the key members of his ranks. His apprentice, Heinrich Keller/Valken, his accomplice, Ana/The Retriever, and those he'd freed from the New Rock; Andreia Bozzano, Maximilian Klemens, and Lucifer LeBeau. He strode forward, a step or two, his posture.. domineering almost, and his eyes oozing a cold and psychopathic focus. "Heinrich. Ana. Lucifer", he began, his words echoing the thick gravitas of a Lebanese inflection. "The three of you are with me", Satar made clear, his voice's timbre, deep and intolerant of nonsense. "Andreia. Maximilian. The two of you are to lead what remains of the Brahma Brotherhood in an attack on the city".
"Following the Noir Rose's attack. Our ranks have been thinned, and half our weapons stolen. Do what you can with these fanatics. Use them as fodder even", he paused, "Men who are willing to die for their cause are too weak to live for it".
Armed with half the weapons they'd raided from Maverick Incorporated, the Brahma Brotherhood stormed the streets of Gothic, laying waste to those in their path with a hailstorm of plasma rounds and the like. Their formation was aimless, and their tactics were designed to instill terror, to destroy, and to attract attention-to them, and away from the Baabda Beast. Led by Andreia and Maximilian, the Brotherhood, equipped with gas masks, braced themselves, steadied their breathing, and swallowed their fears as Andreia put to use her unorthodox power over thioacetone, the most repugnant chemical in the world, to be used in the world's most repugnant city.
At her fingertips, she felt, Andreia, her power vibrate, and across Gothic's streets, she conjured puddles of it, of thioacetone, a chemical whose smell is so severe and overpowering that those exposed to it found themselves disabled. An organic compound in which a carbon atom is bonded to a sulfur-hydrogen pair, one drop of the chemical could be smelled, almost instantly, from half a kilometer away. Puddles conjured over the city's streets however? They seized the city's unprotected noses with violence. Soon came the spontaneous outbreaks of vomiting. Thioacetone's ungodly stench was made a weapon, one that Andreia threatened the entire city with. Her intention was clear. Heroes, vigilantes, they would soon arrived. And they? They were to be greeted with the most overpowering smell imaginable.
It was unbearable, beyond disagreeable, it was meant to force all opposition to clutch their stomachs, vomit their predigested meals and fall victim to nausea and sickness. This, it seemed the stuff of the supernatural. Though whereas Andrea sought to disarm and send the opposition into disarray, Maximilian hoped to destroy, to burn. Quickly, he conjured his flames and commanded them to rage, to set the city ablaze as columns of smoke stretched into the night sky. He seemed an ordinary pyrokinetic, Maximilian. But his flames? They were far from ordinary. His powers harnessed the heart of chlorine trifluoride, the world's most vigorous fluorinating agent (agents that rip other molecules apart to replace their hydrogen atoms with fluorine).
The result was an extremely violent exothermic reaction, or fluorine fire, deadlier than even fluorine gas. And an even better oxidizer than oxygen. Oxidizers being compounds that seize electrons from other chemicals in a reaction, they were what made combustion possible. And in this task, chlorine trifluoride knew no rival. It burned things typically thought of as nonflammable, like bricks, concrete, asbestos... and things that have already been burned. Elsewhere, striding through Gothic Square, Satar, in the company of Ana, Heinrich, and Lucifer, had his sights set on one thing, and one thing only; the mayor's office. Why? Because he knew.
He knew who hid under the cowl of Vex, and it was from him, the mayor, that he would wrestle the city from.