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

Bridge of Appeal

No Caption Provided

Ivana's black boots rested on the pearl white of the Bridge. It stretched out from the boarders of Columbia and over a valley filled with ivory towers and domes, trimmed and engraved in glittering gold.

The sun, a ball of brilliant incandescent fire, beamed down on the twenty first century samurai. Her crimson cloak billowed in the crisp, cool wind. Matte black armor wrapped around her muscular, tattooed frame. A tungsten and steel katana hung at her left hip, silver alloyed tantos upon her boots and a bow from her back. A flat rectangular quiver hugged the spine of her armored back, self loading, filled with various arrowheads and carbon arrow hafts. Zipbraclets wrapped around the segmented armor of her wrists, loaded with symtex propellant and steel penetrators. Tattoos framed her undercut and ponytail. Her left eye was a pale orb of white but her right eye burned with such intensity it seemed capable of carving a hole in the world.

No Caption Provided

Behind her stood a host of red. Ruby clad Orochi clansmen, each shinobi hand picked by Ivana for loyalty, mutant genes and skill in battle. They were still as statues, the gentle motion of their robes in the wind the only sign of life. Gently curved blades hung at their waists, quivers and bows upon their backs in the custom of Ivana's followers.

Ivana looked to the sky, vast, deep blue and clear. Tapping into an psychic link built into her mind she contacted Albert Esotrix."Albert. Its time."

"I am ready." From his life support chair, hidden far away in a secret fortification he replied. Though he commanded powers beyond understanding his body was ravaged by the cruel hands of time until he was only kept alive by the most advanced and intrusive medical technology. His waking life was a nightmare, and only escape into the dreams of others tethered him to sanity.

Ivana dropped her left hand upon the sheath of her katana, her thumb draped across the tusubo ready to assist the draw-cut. Then she begin walking across the bridge, her Orochi allies trailing her like a river of blood as she crossed her Rubicon.

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

Lady's smart; gotta give 'er that.

The Dog flashed a smile that no one could see as he clambered along the bottom of the same bridge that Ivana and her Orochi were striding so imperiously across. It was relatively easy for him to stay about a dozen yards ahead of the procession; the underside of the bridge was covered with various support beams, steel cables, and drainage pipes, and where no obvious handhold presented itself, his prodigious strength and armor-piercing claws allowed him to make one. Despite the lack of a line-of-sight, he knew exactly what was going on above him. He could feel the measured step of each Orochi, detect each individual scent, and hear every exhalation of breath.

His mission was pretty straightforward, which suited him just fine: intercept any person or force that tried to stop the deadly mutant and her allies as they crossed the bridge. The crossing was a highly symbolic moment to begin an invasion with, as it made it seem as though the invaders had every right to stride into the country, rather than sneaking in through a less-obvious entry point. All good and well, but the Dog would be just as happy when the initial posturing was over and things came down to blades and bullets, as they always did.

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#3 Posted by Ult_Azrael (194 posts) - - Show Bio

Night Before

"I'm no saint but this seems foolish. VZ is a safe haven crime is low people are happy all that shit."

"It's a temporary fix."

"Why? Because elsewhere it isn't as good. I'm all for revolution and change. If the system is irredeemably flawed smash the system. But VZ is fine. Territory is being claimed for war is that what Xenon would want?"

"Shut up Oren, you don't know the man!"

"And I don't think you understand the man." The revolutionary known as Razor rebuked making leave from the bar. Ivana wasn't a person known for peace and negotiation. Storms were brewing for yet another bloody schism Rayne knew.

Conflicted Arival

The bridge was usually rich with commerce and visitation. Often mutants might spend the day here with human relatives. Talents would be used to craft fine goods or perform. It was usually as close to a utopian image as this planet would get. Now however the brige was vacant silent and unsettling. The tragedies faced in the past made many unwelcoming of potential trouble. Along the walls and in the streets one could see those conditioned for conflict at an unease.

At the entrance Azra was among another four Elite. A group of women with enough mental might to make a city lock brain dead with a thought and enough TK potential to quite likely atomize the bridge. "Albert?" Though the compatriot of Envy certainly could try and aproach the psychic that seemed rude. She however also seemed unphased by asking for the psychic before so much as greeting the Strigade "you can't just come in and sway thoughts on the council and that's not meant to be offending we simply strive for equality. That said these minds are the finest of the psychics. Take that how you will." The leading figure of the VZ Elite had just pointed out the strongest telepaths of the area. Clearly wanting any claim to be swift.

"I suspect you don't need a tour and that we can skip introductions?" Xenon deserved to rule, and Venezuela didn't need to be ravaged and plundered another time. Despite this conflict however Azra also believed the docile manner wasn't getting anywhere. Racial discrepancy was still strong in the globe and thus a threat to her people as a whole. "Keep the blood minimal please. I'd preffer not to nuke my own kind." It was said in such a flat tone it was hard to read if it was in regard to citizens of VZ or a threat. Either way however with Azra's own status the twenty third would be free to go where she pleased.

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#4 Edited by _Envy_ (421 posts) - - Show Bio


Envy thought to himself as he marched with the rest of the mutant army. He stood towards the front of the formation and held his chin high. It was strange. He was a self proclaimed mutant revolutionist, yet he had never seen what other mutants considered their homeland. He was the equivalent of a patriotic roman warrior that had never even seen Rome. He considered himself a simple foot soldier that fought along his brothers and sister while giving commands and strategic positions from the front lines. Now here he was, assisting in a peaceful coupe d'etat.

Anything for our people. Anything.

He wore a pair of old green army fatigues with steel toed leather boots that had spikes protruding from various angles. As he walked, the wind blew his mohawk behind his head and trailed behind his lean figure, creating a menacing look combined with his stern gaze that was fixed forward. He remained silent, with his hands in his pockets. Hoping for peace, but he was always ready for war.

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#5 Edited by Asherah (842 posts) - - Show Bio

Alyssa stood immediately behind Ivana, adorned with the traditional garb of the Orochi; one of many, but distinguished by her uncovered head. Ever-loyal to her mentor and friend, she sought both to help Ivana and her people, and to hopefully use the power of influence to improve relations with the humans. And as most of those in attendance - or so she assumed - she hoped for a conflict-free resolution to the Strigidae's claim, but prepared for the worst.

It didn't take long for her hope for the situation to start sinking. Whoever the girl on the bridge was, she was already at least a little testy, and though Alyssa hadn't known how Ivana's pre-"homecoming" meetings had gone, she guessed the warrior might have grown tired of niceties and wouldn't take kindly to threats, be they pitter-pattered roundabout threats or not.Just walk.

Just walk. Let's just go, she pleaded silently. Avoid anything unnecessary. Let's just get in first.

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

Nobody can defeat me, NOBODY, not even Xenon. I deserve this country. BY RIGHT. This country. It's MINE... MINE!

The Chancellor paced up and down his personal halls, arms clasped behind of a white suited back as his eyes burned with the rage of a thousand suns exploding at once, he had lived in the shadow of Xenon, the King of Venezuela, for as long as the tiny republic had existed. He had lived, and served, silently, and plotted, schemed, and tried to take the throne for himself countless times. Each and every time -- Failed.

He once tasked Noah Adams to kill Xenon, grooming Noah into becoming his prodigy, until Noah mustered up the courage to attack Xenon.... And lose. The Chancellor had tried many more times, in secret, never showing his hand to anyone other than his personal aides, and now Xenon was gone.

His empire, for the taking.

"I cannot lose; for I do not read history, I make history."

He glared at his man servant, speaking his egotistical rhetoric at an alarming rate. He was paranoid. He was worried. He had had a dream. He had had a premonition.

Last night, Ivana, the Strigidae, twenty third of her rank, had marched into his kingdom, and stolen the throne. He hadn't died, but had been forced to submit, kneel to the new Queen of Mutant Kind.

This future would not come to be.

Not if he allowed. He would not.

The Bridge of Appeal, current time

The last time the atmosphere of this prosperous country had been so heavy was when Xenon, once upon a time, had been announced deceased. Charlemagne had once slain Xenon, prior to his resurrection, prior to him retaking the throne. The country had mourned, and wept for their king. But not this time.

There was only uncertainty -- But a sense of confidence, midst the confusion. Someone, somewhere would fill the void; for mutant kind, beyond their quarrels, were slowly, but surely, taking ground in the fight against their oppression. A new dawn, a new era, for whichever ruler took control of the country. A new era of extremism, it had been foreseen.

For Xenon had declared humans illegal within venezuelan dwelling, and killed them on sight.

Ivana would probably do the same -- As would the Chancellor. As would any rational mutant.

Only the strong could rule venezuela; only the strong WOULD rule.


Flanked by an entourage of heavily armoured, mentally gifted, and highly sophisticated guardsmen, the chancellor walked through the bridge, eyes set upon the Queen of Combat, Ivana, as though he had seen the single most powerful mutant in the country.


It unnerved him; for she was truly a warrior goddess worthy of the throne, and he knew this was do or die, for both of them. He knew she certainly had allies, and he welcomed them, as he would welcome them to death, for the Chancellor's powers grew stronger the closer he was to mutants, and he was within the biggest concentration of mutants the world had ever know. He WAS, power.

"Greetings." He said, three guards on his left, three on his right, each brandishing what appeared to be spears, made from vibranium, yet far more technologically potent than a mere thrusting weapon. They had a few extra... Abilities. "I am the Supreme Chancellor of Venezuela; and if you intend to rule...." He gazed out to Ivana, into her soul, was this woman truly fit to rule the mutant homeland?


"...You are mistaken. You think swords grants you a right to rule? I forgive your naivety, little girl. Now please, leave." He gazed towards Alyssa, unknowing of her status, and then at the other warriors behind the Arcani, his own eyes stern, yet jaded. "Now."

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

@ult_azrael: @_razor_

There's my cue.

Catching the sounds and scents of would-be resistance, Dog clambered sideways like some twisted crab-ape hybrid, reaching up and swinging his large frame over the side of the bridge. He landed in a crouch, one clawed hand poised to strike. "Sorry, darlin'," he sneered. "Ya gotta be at least this tall to ride, and yer about to get shorter." With that, he sprung like a striking serpent, the talons of one meaty hand aimed for Azra's throat.

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

The Elite wasn't in the nicest of moods. She however wasn't looking for conflict. It's only natural one be defensive of their home. Matters were growing tense however as more forces gathered. Those backing Ivana grew in number and then came the Supreme. Azra wasn't the best of friends with the man but they'd coexisted. His choice of entry however was far from welcoming. It let to the crimson haired weapon to place palm to brow in frustration. So easy was it for politics to become a pissing contest. Then came the shaggy scruffy beast that'd been under the bridge.

"The masters are talking pup." Her tone was cold her retaliation colder. A glance at the mutants feet and a small detonation went off decorating the bridge with a small web of cracks. The blast would harm no other but was enough to remove the entirety of ones leg and toss an individual air born. In collaboration of the attempted detonation a force would attempt to slap the dog aside a wave of TK that was like a slap from a giant. The real driving force though was the obsidian figure that had leapt from the wall above attempting to tackle the aggressor off the stage. "Politics let's try that please."

Meanwhile Rayne using her nimble figure had thrusted claws into the side of the bridge. Graceful movement leading to a soft landing on one of many beems beneath the bridge. An almost feline pose hinted at extensive training presumably by ninja and other acrobatic killers. "Could you try shaving? Or a bath? Pick this up when you're more presentable?" The revolutionary teased while retracting a set of throwing knives seeming from her knuckles. They'd of easly be mistaken for short claws untill she'd thrown them towards the attacker.

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


Had his frame not been as well stiched-together as it was, Dog would have probably been spending the next day or two waiting for several of his limbs to grow back. As it was, he lost more than a few layers of skin as he was thrown into the air, and then struck by a telekinetic attack and a flying tackle which carried him back over the side of the bridge. Reaching out and digging the claws of one hand into the superstructure, he glared down at the smaller, dark figure that taunted him from a support beam.

"I'll be bathin' in yer blood, kitty-cat," he snarled, disengaging his claws and dropping down to her level. He roared, more in rage than pain, as the throwing knives embedded themselves in his already raw flesh. Pulling one from his left shoulder with his right hand, he flung it back at Razor, the spinning of the gore-flecked blade creating macabre and yet oddly artistic patterns on the underside of the bridge. Without waiting to see if the projectile found its mark, he leapt forward in a feral pounce, claws poised to tear his enemy from shoulder to groin.

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


Her knives found home sinking deep into skin and decorating the pillar in specs of carmine. It didn't vault the hound but it did reveal her blades were enough. Made of a steel to rival if not surpass the likes of the treasured Vibranium of these lands there was little to resist and her opposition was no exception. As he dropped to the web of rods and beams below the assassin could feel the vibrations. Her fluffy for was certainly stronger but she found the style of combat gross as he lunged again. "You know I hear it's good for the complexion? You could of fooled me." The knife was easily dodged it's trail to beautiful to disrupt.

Claw dug into flesh piercing meat with ease. They'd find it hard to go further however as no tugging would be shattering those bones of hers. Pain was sharp but nothing new. Momentum though was appreciated, for while her chest felt on fire from the impact there was also limited space. Lunges were designed to ground a target, a claw extended from each foot a singular blade that easily thrusted into the edge of the beam.

Over the ledge they'd go Razor would benefit from foot oriented claws providing a hold. But the dog was a robust figure over an entire foot taller there was only so far those thick fingers could dig his grip wasn't much. Hanging upside down her signature claws would extent thrusting for the brute's skull. Wishing to remove both eyes and ravage the jaw. Her athletic build would easily allow her to return to an easier position clinging upside down and if lucky watching a towering wolf fall to the streets far below.

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#11 Edited by Clutch (3263 posts) - - Show Bio

Wildcardz Tokyo HQ

Clutch was sitting in the dimly lit conference room of his HQ while shuffling a deck of new and crisp playing cards like a professional grifter who cheated his way to the top of high-stakes game brackets. The aroma of the cigar smoke that swirled up into the one light in the room made the Wildcard pour a cup of his well-aged scotch as he maneuvered through his strategic mind and composed orchestras of tactical genius that would help his team in their next mission. His last contract had went off without a hitch or causality to his crew and he was happy to be smoking in the confines of his solitude once again, as he reflected on his most recent heist of billions of dollars that was taken right under the nose of his contractor so that he could properly fund his growing squadron of mercenaries. Despite the chaos of a mutant revolutionary threatening to turn an entire city into a bio-hazard zone he faired well and had somehow even managed to catch the eye of his next employer. A Strigidae , had days before , made contact with him and proposed a contract that he couldn't refuse because of the sheer opportunity of fortune it presented to his goal oriented and ambitious persona . Not only was it a lucrative deal in terms of monetary gain but the dynamics gave him such a rush of adrenaline as he looked over the specifics of the entire operation. The chessboard of pawns , knights , and royalty panned out clearly in his minds-eye.

Venezuela ,mutants, war, chaos, and most importantly..Vibranium. What better place to prove to the world and everyone in it that the Wildcardz where a threat? A shadow never to be caught but always profiting from the atrocities of violent affairs. He had done his research into the history of the war-torn country plenty of times and even thought at one point that he would run for its sanctuary if he was ever pursued by the world government's for his involvement in several military campaigns. Being a mutant had not meant much to him but a genetic anomaly that granted him a set of powers that matched his icy heart and lethal assassin skills, but the upcoming mission made him dig deeper into his emotions that pertained to him being considered apart of a species that was constantly hunted and discriminated against. He cared for a second then thought about his bank account. Clutch soon broke from his manipulative thoughts as his guest silently made his entrance through what seemed like a portal that could only be opened in the blackest of shadows. He was delighted to see one of his best friends arrive in such exciting times.

"Tenjin. You're late, but sit down. I've got some fine scotch and cubans." He pushed the bottle and case of cigars towards the other end of the table for his ninja brother. "I'm guessing you got my message pertaining to this contract I just got. Are you in?" Clutch gripped a cigar between his teeth , lit it , inhaled , and then exhaled a huge cloud as he watched Tenjin pour a glass , mimic his vice , and give a confident yet slightly mysterious nod yes.

"Great..." The Strategic Savant put his liquor filled glass down and picked up the playing cards once more. " I've been thinking a lot about this one.." he said as he did a quick shuffle and produced a King , Queen, and four Jacks flatly on the expensive marble table. "The politics of the world , the power of all these meta-humans and mutants , the constantly changing faces of people who want to claim the crown..." Scott covered the King card with the Queen and then pointed to the Jacks.

"Some Jack is always trying to take the top position, but they never account for us. The Wildcard." a Joker slides from the sleeve of Clutch and he continues. " We can be anything we want. And we will let them think they've got us in their pockets while we get rich off everyone's greed in this vicious cycle of power, but we'll never let them rule us because we can change the game at any moment. We can turn the cards in our favor , because a Wildcard can always become...an Ace. A snap of my fingers and the whole poker table is at our mercy." The Grey Gun smiled as he blew a massive cloud of smoke into the sky and gently slammed an Ace of Spades over all the other face cards that lay on the table.

"And plus, intel suggest that my good friend Envy is gonna be making an appearance. I'm sure he'll be happy to see us after we crashed his party."

Venezuela: West of Bridge of Appeal (Day of Invasion)

The Leader of the Wildcardz sat patiently as the lenses in his domino mask zoomed in and out while he kept his eyes on Strigidae awaiting the signal that would let him know is was time for him and his team to enter the country , engage hostiles , and infiltrate the throne room. He throughly went over the plans with his team in extreme detail and made sure the comm-links were set , and everyone's position was calibrated with the HUD Maps while he slowly pulled from a cigar.

"All right squad. You all know why we are here and everyone has their jobs. Lets get Operation: Silverbolt moving and help the little assassin girl take the throne. Our operations success depends on how well you handle the mutant taskforce. Our entrance into the city is possible thanks to the cocktail of gene altering chemicals that make those of you who are not mutants , for today only , mutants. '

" Tenjin. Your with me. Once we are in. Await my orders. Lets move out! "

No Caption Provided

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#12 Edited by Alpha_Dog (1046 posts) - - Show Bio


The girl had strong bones. Stronger than his, even, which was not something many could say. She also had some other surprises, including claws that burst from both hand and foot, the latter to secure her to the pipe, and the former to thrust towards his face. Her tactics were good, and only Dog's considerable height advantage allowed him to lean back, causing the murderous slash to tear open his throat, rather than pluck out his eyes. Both would grow back, of course, but he wanted to see how she responded to this little trick.

Releasing his claws from their ineffective hold on her torso, he snapped both legs up, seeking to lock them about her waist MMA-style. Bringing his own considerable agility into play, he swung himself backwards and upwards, digging one clawed hand into the same beam she had latched onto, and using the other to swipe at the concrete anchoring her feet, hoping to deprive her of her toehold.

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#13 Posted by Kayle_Rez (726 posts) - - Show Bio


Back Home Before Departure.

"All right you lovely bitches this here is what I call the Antidote." With a theatric gesture the gold eyed thief revealed a brief case filled with small vials of iridescent blue fluid. "I'm fond of my powers so awhile back I came up with a way to not have them sapped from me, got to wear protection. Anywho I've tweaked this to also read as an X gene. Shoot yourself up like the drugy you are and for the day you'll read as not a humie." Spinning about in her chair picking up one of her suckers along the way she finished the tech babble with the comfort of her drug of choice. "Now this doesn't mean your dumb ass can suddenly fly. They start asking you got to get clever."

On Arrival

Kayle looked positively board her emotional investment was nonexistent. The employer and company marched along the bridge and Kayle spent time counting arrows. Not for strategy but just to past the time. A bitchy redhead was seen familiar from NYC it was enough to get Kayle to tap one of her many guns but that was all. Another bitch this one old arrived in white it got as much as a scoff at his fashion sense. Investment ended there.

"Know peeps I liked Fluffy's and Spikey's idea." Referring to the two that'd dived off the bridge. "Talking is so dull I humbly request permission to shoot the man in white in the face." The pirate's muttered words a clear sign of a lack in diplomatic talent.

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


Steel bit into flesh and vein motioning to avoid a removal of sight she was rewarded by finding the jugular. Crimson sprayed away painting her face with a visceral pattern and dying some of her auburn hair a new hue. It didn't sway the living weapon in any way, how many throats had she split? How many skulls caved in? She wasn't so much a person as she was a tool of ideologies and wrath. Her focus laid on the mission. A violent objective to put a hound down.

Legs coiled around her thin waist, easly taken hold and when they did she answered in a natural way. This wasn't a delayed move he'd chosen to ensnare the agile killer and had done so. Just as he did though Rayne would receive a rather decorative belt. Most mutants of claws and regen were animals had senses as their addition. Not Rayne she was a fusion of the edgiest of mutations claws marrow generation and razor sharp skin. From Rayne's waist would rise a belt of spikes enough to pierce groin femur knee and ankle. It was not a pretty move but finess wasn't the name of the goal, that belonged to survival.

Footing was gone clawed hand shattering the piece of the bridge she used as a grip. Her body would slump a bit with no hold but the brute's. She'd use this for two moves, first being a quick flurry. It wasn't skillful or pretty just a rapid series of movement attempting to spill guts and organs. The second move was to attempt to break free of the hold throwing herself to a distant pillar. Freedom of movent was preferred but she didn't mind if he held on either. For such a grip would likely only cause further havoc on her opponents lower half.

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#15 Posted by Omega-One (218 posts) - - Show Bio


Today the Black Baron faced a dilemma. There was a constant clash between his noble ideals, his morality and sense of practicality as he thought of the rumors he'd heard recently from the mutant customers of New Orleans' Drinkin' Mutie's Bar & Grill. They spoke of an apparent challenge for the Venezuelan throne, one issued by the 23rd Strigidae, Ivana. Bastian had never met the extremist. In both the past and his future timeline. Though he felt like he didn't need to. In the future she had become something of an underground legend for not just the mutant community, but any who face discrimination. They respected her for her willingness and ability to rage against the machine.

And he would be lying if he said a portion of him didn't respect her as well, both for defying social norms and fighting for the freedom of her people. Fighting against an oppressive group was something he could relate to, having devoted his entire life to fighting the Third Society. He didn't however, agree with her terrorism or her racist, Darwinist ideology. His situation however, wasn't centered on his personal feelings. It was greater than he was. And so as the German sat in the darkness of an abandoned safe-house he refurnished as much as he could without the currency of his current timeline, he wondered. Would he oppose the 23rd Strigidae? Or would he help her? Why he would oppose her was easy to understand. She was a terrorist and a mass murderer.

But as his eyes silently took in the environment all about him, he recognized that he was without resources. Aligning himself with Ivana could provide him with the resources he needed. His futuristic technology was waning in a time period without the level of science and equipment needed to sustain them. His quantum tech implants were growing poisonous without proper regulation from future technology. And above all, he saw an opportunity. He was sent back in time as the one to stop the Third Society before they reach the height of their power. It made sense for him to assist the 23rd Strigidae. With no person of this timeline holding knowledge of quantum tech implants, he could claim to be a mutant.

No Caption Provided

And to stop the Third Society, sacrifices need to be made. If he somehow manages to help Ivana erect a Venezuelan empire powerful enough to combat the Third Society in the future, his choice would be worth it. The threat of mutant extremism would be dealt afterwards. Gathering his weapons, donning his armor and readying his mind and body for the use of his quantum tech implants, Bastian left, eventually arriving in Venezuela, strutting into the politically unstable country with a cold confidence that wandering eyes either found attractive or intimidating.

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#16 Posted by Strigidae_23 (6388 posts) - - Show Bio


At the entrance Azra was among another four Elite. A group of women with enough mental might to make a city lock brain dead with a thought and enough TK potential to quite likely atomize the bridge. "Albert?" Though the compatriot of Envy certainly could try and aproach the psychic that seemed rude. She however also seemed unphased by asking for the psychic before so much as greeting the Strigade "you can't just come in and sway thoughts on the council and that's not meant to be offending we simply strive for equality. That said these minds are the finest of the psychics. Take that how you will." The leading figure of the VZ Elite had just pointed out the strongest telepaths of the area. Clearly wanting any claim to be swift.

"I suspect you don't need a tour and that we can skip introductions?" Xenon deserved to rule, and Venezuela didn't need to be ravaged and plundered another time. Despite this conflict however Azra also believed the docile manner wasn't getting anywhere. Racial discrepancy was still strong in the globe and thus a threat to her people as a whole. "Keep the blood minimal please. I'd preffer not to nuke my own kind." It was said in such a flat tone it was hard to read if it was in regard to citizens of VZ or a threat. Either way however with Azra's own status the twenty third would be free to go where she pleased.


"Greetings." He said, three guards on his left, three on his right, each brandishing what appeared to be spears, made from vibranium, yet far more technologically potent than a mere thrusting weapon. They had a few extra... Abilities. "I am the Supreme Chancellor of Venezuela; and if you intend to rule...." He gazed out to Ivana, into her soul, was this woman truly fit to rule the mutant homeland?


"...You are mistaken. You think swords grants you a right to rule? I forgive your naivety, little girl. Now please, leave." He gazed towards Alyssa, unknowing of her status, and then at the other warriors behind the Arcani, his own eyes stern, yet jaded. "Now."

Ivana never broke stride as the two arrived and spoke. A short bark of laughter escaped her lips. "Come forth.. go hither! Make up your damn minds already." Her Russian accent colored her words as she addressed the disparity between their messages.

"Do you two need a time out? Maybe you can go get your stories straight and get back to me." The twenty first century samurai's tone dripped with mockery.

"Look at this mess." She waved an armored hand at the two of them as her boots carried her across the bridge toward the pair. "The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing. These times are troubled. Mutants need a strong ruler to guide them, not a batch of bickering school children with delusions of adequacy."

Ivana was unaware of the Supreme Chancellor's machinations. Life on the front lines of the mutant/human conflict left her ignorant of the Machiavellian plots hatched by the cunning mutant. She saw him as another example of bureaucratic inefficiency and hind-bound resistance to change, not realizing the abyssal depths of his lust for power.

She did, however, recognize the threat his opposition posed to her plans. Even upon the highest peaks of secluded temples where grandmasters dueled in eerie silence Ivana had heard hushed whispers of the Chancellor's might. The self proclaimed 'greatest warrior alive' did not take him lightly.

Having studied the psychological warfare techniques of Strigidae Zero, also known as the Brahma Bull, Ivana had chosen her words carefully. Each phrase was crafted to trivialize and disrespect the Supreme Chancellor, to make a public mockery of him in his homeland. Her words were aimed like stinging darts, to draw the Chancellor into making a mistake.

She only needed one.

Then Ivana lifted one hand to her collar, activating the com device and broadcasting her words to the channel set up for her to communicate with her hired team of mercenaries. Her other hand pointed an armored finger toward the Supreme Chancellor.

"Wildcardz. Kill him."

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


This kid was good. He should have been dead a half-dozen times already, but death and Dog had never exactly seen eye-to-eye. Still, more parts of his body were shredded than were intact, and only his the fact that his throat was still regenerating preventing him from howling with each new puncture. He was starting to genuinely enjoy himself.

Still, he wasn't here to have a good time. Razor's attacks accomplished what she had wanted; his mangled lower extremities were unable to maintain their grip on her lithe form. As she launched herself towards a distant pillar, he released his own hold on the support beam and flung himself towards her, trying to grab her ankle in an attempt to send them both tumbling towards the streets below. The impact would likely put him out of any fight for a bit, but it would also likely make sure his enemy wasn't able to impede the invaders' crossing of the bridge.

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#18 Edited by boschePG (6320 posts) - - Show Bio

@clutch: @kayle_rez:

No Caption Provided

A mutant?

For too long what Jon Black did defined who he was. He has been called a soul broker, a dark soul demon with no heart, and even a filthy bastard more times than he could remember, but today, as long as this gene altering device allowed, he was a mutant.

Not a non-meta, not a dark soul, but a mutant.

He laughed on the transport jet when it hit him he probably had to eliminate some mutants that would cross him. The grasp of his metallic soul canons the eventual weapon of such a circumstance. In the end, no matter what someone classified himself it was either dead or alive. He knew how it would finish though, that was the curse of Jon Black, to always be alone.

No Caption Provided

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#19 Edited by Rafael_Romeiro (2566 posts) - - Show Bio

@supreme_chancellor: @strigidae_23:

He wasn't in Venezuela. Not yet. Instead the Black Jaguar found himself in the calm confines of a safe-house. It's ordinary, alabaster walls sported no decorations and created an atmosphere of bleakness. It brought something interesting to mind as the cool glow of the computer monitor before him cast an azure hue on his features. Reviewing a Microsoft Word document from the USB flash drive holding information on the Wildcarz etc., the very same USB flash drive given to him by Ivana in preparation for the task at hand, Rafael saw clearly that without the 23rd Strigidae's ambition, the future of man-kind would be even bleaker. Both arms remained folded before his sculpted pectorals as dark, mystifying eyes scanned every sentence and missed no detail.

"I hope whichever god is listening will forgive me for what I will do to my enemies today"

"I hope whichever god is listening will forgive me for what I will do to my enemies today". His words resonated all about the room as the resolute bass of his voice mirrored the earnestness of his controlled facial expression. Setting the computer to shut down and storing the USB flash drive inside the desk's first drawer, Rafael upon being informed of Ivana's presence on the Bridge of Appeal in Venezuela, particularly that she was to face the nation's Supreme Chancellor, donned his Anti-Psi Armor. It was a multi-layered system composed of many different materials. It's innermost layer was comprised of a lightweight Kevlar fabric for ballistic protection, and contained a molecularly woven cooling and heating system designed to regulate temperature changes depending on the environment's temperature patterns.

It's outermost layer or exoskeleton however, sported titanium and ceramic composite armor plating. Sandwiched between the innermost and outermost layers of the armor was an intermediary layer, a cushioning layer of liquid nano-crystals that offered greater durability than three centimeters of Kevlar diamond weave. It's main purpose however, was not to shield the Black Jaguar's body. He was a specimen whose physical attributes almost paralleled Thee Champion's. The armor's primary purpose was to shield his mind from telepathic assault by virtue of a quantum computer that blasts any intruding mind with lumps upon lumps of all manner of mathematical expressions, undiscovered algorithms and things which the human mind, telepathic or not, independent of power level, was never meant to tamper with.

In the span of a second, Rafael's combination of speed and flight transported him from a safe-house to the air several feet above the Bridge of Appeal. With both arms crossed before his chest, the armored Portuguese hovered several feet closer to the 23rd Strigidae but his feet never touched the ground. The Modern Man's Adonis conducted himself with a flair of confidence and mystique that mirrored the potent charisma of his beauty. But today he was no Adonis. Not a man said to have come from Venus. Today as his eyes caught sight of the Supreme Chancellor, he was a man of Mars.

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

@strigidae_23: @rafael_romeiro: @asherah

The Supreme Chancellor slowly felt the balance of power shifting; against him.

He felt the atmosphere intensify and grow heated as Rafael, once an iconic paragon of heroism, turned ambiguous member of the Hellfire Club, and now, invader of the Chancellor's self-proclaimed domain, descended from the heavens and take his place beside Ivana, as though it was his rightful place, as though the invading entourage had come to claim their land -- Their homeland.

In a way, they had.


In a single, arrogant moment of smugness, the Chancellor's egotistical visage broke free from it's stern, almost pokerfaced expression, and donned a smirk, dismissing Ivana's words and honestly believing his death to be an impossibility.

After all, the Supreme Chancellor was the greatest, most powerful man alive, the mightiest individual to have ever walked the earth. He was flawless.

At least, he thought so.

Blinded by his own hubris, by his arrogance, and weakened by his confidence. What gave him strength also tied into his weakness; he honestly didn't believe he could lose. Losing was as impossible to him as one and one equaling three when added, it simply couldn't happen.


Without movement, and almost instantly, the Chancellor unleashed possibly the single, most potent telepathic assault the globe had beared witness to. His telepathic potency amplified by his most important mutant ability -- The ability to grow stronger when in proximity of other X-Gene harboring mutants, and in this instance, he had an entire country of mutants to grow stronger from. A single, devastating blast was dealt to Ivana, Rafael, Alyssa, and every other Arcani affiliate upon the bridge.

The Chancellor's mental might against other omega mutants was as drastic in difference as the nuclear bomb was to a bow and arrow, incomparable. The assault didn't aim to hamper, nor impair his opponents, it sought to utterly destroy whatever constituted as their mind with a single unrestrained blow.

His body, remained still, his arms remained clasped across of his chest, as though nothing had happened.

The Chancellor knew this would either be his finest hour... Or his swan song.

Only fate would decide.

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#21 Posted by Strigidae_23 (6388 posts) - - Show Bio


Albert Esotrix was over one hundred and fifty years old. Psychic power was bred into his very bones. It dripped from his voice when he spoke and thundered across this life and the next when he shouted. When he struck his burning spear of psychic might left a scar across the fabric of reality itself.

He had crossed wills with Spiller, the Omega level powerhouse who had shocked the world with his displays of unmitigated power. The Triumvirate, the three Omegas bound together in one will who had served Alexandera Steele's HellFire Club. Even ID, the Daemon of Silence himself, a being of pure psychic might whose atherial form had stalked the astral plane for an eon.

The Alpha level Arcani had tasted their might. He had endured the godlike blows of their wills, survived the blazing swords of etheric power and stood firm against the tsunamis of unfettered might that had seen the gods retreat from the world.

It was nothing like this.


The original Arcani had been mutant time travelers from a distant dystopian future who traveled back to the beginning of human history to begin again. They had passed on thousand generations of wisdom and the occult secrets of a hundred thousand wars. Runes and sigils and forbidden rites were carved into Albert's mind at the quantum level. The shields he wrapped around Ivana and her parties minds could make a mockery of a god and hurl back a pantheon. They were adamatine.

They blew apart like tissue paper.

Albert screamed into the astral void in agony as he tried to redirect the Chancellor's power, to slow it, to delay it. Anything. He tried a thousand techniques in the space of a thought. Anything! He cried into the abyss.

The psychic blowback stopped his heart.

His life support chair slammed into action with the merciless reflexes of the machine, forcing the abomination of life back into his body in half a heartbeat.

On pure instinct he hurled his astral form between the party and the attack. He called upon terrible pacts and invoked the monstrous principalities of the between space. He unleashed a reservoir of psychic power stored for three quarters of a million years. So much raw power poured into his second desperate layer of shields they burned a mark into the barrier between dimensions for all eternity.

They failed.

Albert's mind was simply erased from the universe.

The entire titanic struggle took less than one one-hundredth of a second.

Energy, pure psychic energy detonated inside Ivana's mind like an atom bomb. The twenty first century samurai had inherited the zythium retrovirus from her mother, a virus that allowed her to adapt to metaphysical phenomena the same way a human's immune system adapted to invading bacteria. She had survived the Omega level assault from the psychic Spiller and even endured a strike from Valerie Huntington so godlike the psychic backlash had melted the psychic defenses built into her old suit, destroying it.

Her mind was a fortress, crafted with arcane secrets passed down from Strigidae to Strigidae since the dawn of humanity. Layer upon layer of psy shielding had been built into her mind since infancy. Deep within black tombs she had stolen the secrets of mental defense from grandmasters who had taken their secrets to the grave. Inside hidden jungle temples she had studied the mysteries of the mind with long forgotten orders of monks and faced the alien wielders of esoteric power upon the highest mountains. Her thoughts were a labyrinth.

The Chancellor's attack annihilated her elaborate defenses in an instant.

Every cell inside her body was built with a zythium cytoskeleton. Cytoskeletons are the structures inside cells that give them their shape. Zythium was the material that armored Kratesis across a thousand universes, a million years and a billion cosmic wars. Though it was not as durable as vibrainium or adamantine it possessed greater resistance to metaphysical energies.

It burned.

The twenty third Strigidae fell to one knee as both of her eyeballs flash-boiled. They bubbled out of her eye sockets and ran down her face in a mess of sizzling fluid.

The tide of red Orochi behind her simply immolated. They became a hundred pillars of fire as every cell in their bodies ignited as psychic energy blew through their minds and washed over into the physical plane, utterly obliterating their bodies. Red robes blazed in the sun, spewing black ash into the wind as a legion of some of the greatest martial artists in a generation were annihilated.

Raw, white hot agony ripped through Ivana as every cell in her body was wracked by the sheer agony of burning zythium while her mind was pulverized by a psychic assault so mighty there were no words to describe it.

It was the pain that saved her.

Ivana's mutant power was the ability to sense and control tachyon particles. Tachyons were negative mass particles, which means the traveled backward in time, rather than forward like positive mass particles. Because of this she could receive sensory input from the future, simply by 'reading' the tachyon emissions of her own nervous system. In the base of the human spine there is a bundle of nerves that receive sensory input and react to it before it reaches the brain. For example if you touch a hot stove you will yank your hand away before your mind experiences pain.

When her zythium burned she experienced pain. A lot of pain.

An involuntary command flickered out from the nerve bundle inside her dorsal horn to her brain and a command flashed from her brain to her body a fraction of a second before her eyes melted like butter and she collapsed to one knee, the titanic strength of her mind and will overwhelmed by the unimaginable power of the Chancellors psychic strike.

It was a command that carried the martial knowledge of perhaps the greatest martial artist to ever walk the face of the earth. For though blinded, her Orochi army destroyed and her psychic ally dead she was still Ivana Strigidae.

One of the many arts she had mastered was the one art that Ivana had developed: Oceptratron. Put simply Oceptratron was the art of instant acceleration. Rather than a motion acceleration from stationary to its maximum speed Oceptratron allowed those who mastered it to accelerate to maximum speed instantly.

A second art was known as Abuskhau; the ability to 'push' her kinesthetic sense out beyond the borders of her body. This allowed her to perform impossible feats of accuracy, unleashing projectiles at distant targets with the ease and accuracy that she could touch her finger to her nose in the dark, because for Ivana both tasks used the same sense; the kinesthetic sense.

Her mutant power allowed her to read others nerve impulses through tachyon connections, allowing her to know when, where and how much they moved by 'experiencing' the phantom image of their body overlapped on hers inside her own mind. That included the Saccadic movements, tiny and involuntary movements of the human eye. Because the human eye can only see about one or two degrees of its field of vision in high resolution it makes thousands of tiny adjustments every second to 'scan' its field of vision and create a complete picture. Without this humans would see a tiny silver of clarity amid a vast, fuzzy background.

It also involves something known as SSID, or saccadic suppression of image displacement. This is when the brain blocks out sensory input that arrives during saccadic movement. If it did not then the new 'fuzzy' input would over-ride the old 'sharp' input and the brain would again see a tiny silver of sharp focus bouncing all over their fuzzy field of vision.

In an instinctive, intuitive movement constructed of pristine martial grandmastery Ivana's armored right gauntlet flickered into motion, Oceptratron accelerating her hand to post-human velocities without even a quantum delay. Her fist closed around the hilt of a tanto sheathed on her boot. Tachyons infused the blade with a negative mass singularity, capable of slicing through anything short of true adamantium. A flash of a matte black gauntlet and Abuskhau sent the blade whirling through the air between them, targeting the Chancellor's skull as accurately as if Ivana had reached out to touch him on the forehead.. though she was utterly and totally blind.

Impossibly precise timing born of a lifetime of grandmastery and a precision reading of the Chancellor's nerve commands meant the entire motion, from the first movement of her glove to the arrival of the two hundred mile an hour knife, would occur during a the fraction of a fraction of a second where his brain rejected 'fuzzy' input due to SSID, meaning that if she were successful his brain would never register that she moved at all.

In essence the knife throw of the self proclaimed greatest warrior alive was, unless he had some defense, completely invisible and instantly lethal.

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


The Chancellor didn't have time to register his devastating victory, he didn't have time to show off that smug smile and proudly flaunt how powerful he was. How he defeated one of the worlds most ancient and esoteric telepaths at speeds far faster than comprehension. He didn't even register Ivana's pain, no, for the last image the Chancellor of Venezuela would see would be of a blade -- Hurled, and pelted through the air, with the impossible precision which could only be described as perfection.

It connected, the Twenty Third Strigidae's Tachyon infused katana sliced through the Chancellors skull before the millisecond long battle had even registered with his guardsmen. The Chancellor had been slain before a blink of an eye, before a single word, his body fell, ceremoniously hitting the ground with a quiet thud as every Venezuelan warrior upon the bridge stopped, and looked towards the ground, not in sadness, but in shock and surprisingly... Awe.

For Ivana, twenty third of her rank, had proven, beyond all doubt, she was the strongest warrior within the land, and she would claim her throne... Among her own people. Fellow mutant brothers and sisters.

"My Queen," the guards knelt and parted ways, all bowing their heads down in respect, and acknowledging their new leader, and in truth, this hadn't been the Chancellors swan song, nor his finest hour, for it had been both.

However, for Ivana, this had been so much more. This was the start of a new era for the arcani legend, for the new Queen, of Venezeula.

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#23 Posted by Rafael_Romeiro (2566 posts) - - Show Bio

@strigidae_23: @supreme_chancellor:

Never for a moment did the Black Jaguar dismiss the Supreme Chancellor's might. And rightfully so. With perhaps the greatest concentration of mutants in the world in his native Venezuela, the Supreme Chancellor's power was without parallel, as demonstrated by the most powerful psionic attack Rafael had ever been subjected to. His features wincing, teeth gritting as both hands instinctively reached for his own head, holding onto it as if to prevent his cranium from being taken apart by the sheer agony of the Supreme Chancellor's telepathic might, Rafael released a cry that spoke of his pain as blood trickled from his left nostril, his face reddened, and veins surfaced from underneath his skin with disturbing clarity.

Quickly, his defenses, all of them, sought to save him. While Ivana's Orochi cronies perished and Albert, a fearsome telepath spoken of only in legend, fell before the psychic blast as he made desperate attempts to lessen it's potency, Rafael's Anti-Psi Armor was the first of his line of defenses to act. In place of his mind, the armor's quantum computer presented an artificial consciousness comprised of entangled qubits holding all manner of mathematical expressions and quantum information. It was not unlike a barrier. Thick, powerful, and reliable. But against a juggernaut as relentless as the Supreme Chancellor's attack? It fell. Managing only to partially shield the Portuguese's mind from the devastating quantity of psionic energy blasting his mind without mitigation.

As his armor's defenses fell, Rafael relied on other means of survival as he felt his entire frame begged for him to yield before the blast and die so that his body and mind's suffering may end. He wouldn't. He was a fighter. To yield would be the greatest sin. He had once asked his ex-girlfriend Valerie before their relationship ended, to occasionally subject his mind to harmful but non-lethal doses of psionic energy. Why? His body has decoded genes for high performance in every single area. It allowed his mind to rapidly adapt to high quantities of harmful psionic energy, making him highly resistant to all forms of mental assault. It wasn't enough. He could not resist forever, and at this moment, he lived only because of his body's god-like durability, it was the only thing that kept his body from being reduced to psychic dust destined for the astral plane.

He couldn't think. Not when his mind was being attacked like this. Without the ability to think, he couldn't employ any cerebral method of attack. There would be no strategy behind his attack. No dexterity in his aerokinesis. Or measured skill in how he combined his speed, herculean strength, and virtually unparalleled martial prowess. He could only lash out, in instinct. With either his speed, his strength, or his aerokinesis. Fortunately he didn't have to. Ivana acted first, bringing the Supreme Chancellor's life to an end with one swift swing of her katana. The psychic assault waned and Rafael's feet touched the ground as he landed, dropping to a single knee while his hand pressed against the ground. Panting, hoping to recover in time for their next challenge, he could not help but be impressed by Ivana's actions. He'd smile if he could, but the pain still shocked his entire system. Perhaps after he recovered.

"Are you alright?".

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#24 Edited by tha_mercenary (2118 posts) - - Show Bio


A single red-rimmed iris observed the events from several kilometers away, a cloak garbed figure draped over the precipice of a monastery in hazardous state of disrepair, his torso inclined forwards, nonchalantly perched upon his own haunches. One palm supported his chin comfortably, the other hanging off of his knee, entire form positioned casually, yet drenched in the air of aloof negativity.

The Mercenary, a being ever-stained by horrific paradoxes. An anomaly without any organs to speak of, held together by abstract forces yet dismissive of magic, always laughing yet rooted by an unsettling hatred for everything and anything, Death's Son with daddy issues. The peripatetic killer had shunned the affections of murder itself and now maneuvered reality with his own rules, seeking out conflict with the damned nose of a literal bloodhound, feeding his maker with fallen opponents each day yet refusing to acknowledge it's presence. A loose cannon, if there ever was one.

"...And down goes the Chancellor," a ray of sunlight hit the cold ebony blade situated beside the Enigmatic Engineer of Eradication and it's reflected gaze illuminated the features of the cloaked figure for a single moment, his mask of amalgamated black and orange revealing little, but the infinitesimal signs of a smirk evident within the fabrics of the notorious visage. Below, poverty-ridden mutants continued unaware, one of existence's most atrocious killers not a few feet above their unknowing crowns, his hallowed broadsword revelling in the bloodshed yet to occur, whispering at it's accomplice to be affected upon his foes. "A few unfamiliar faces, but I suppose that is an eventuality when one has been quiet for as long as we have." His black garbed palm was set down calmly upon his spiritual companion's double-edged frame and he chuckled softly to himself, the ever-present gleam of inhumanity vested within his lone eye burning more fiercely than it had in too long a time. He rose; tattered, dirty cloak swaying ominously in the unknowing breeze, his shadow casting both the shed light of his incredible form and the foreboding cries of deaths to come.

"Be patient. You'll have your fill, you antsy bastard," the Mercenary smirked at his blade's presence, reaching down to instead lift his altered version of the L115A3 AWM, the 17 kilogram sniper rifle weightless in the arms of a creature as immaculately structured as the Lord of Life. He brought it up to his shoulder as if it were a mere toy, allowing the scope a quick glance before he nodded quietly to himself and began to hum a tune; the bass-line on Living In The World Today by GZA. It had always been a favourite of his. The Shinigami's proficiency with guns was a little known fact, his notoriety often associated with swordsmanship. The truth was a much more impossible eventuality, that he could perform with the most flimsy pistol what a seasoned veteran could with the world's elite sniper rifles. It was all about the angle, he'd whisper to himself before assassinating the odd warlord on a Friday evening out, chuckling with satisfaction at the distant cries of confusion. Unfeasible? Perhaps. But the conception of a being bred by Death itself was hardly something one could quite wrap their heads around, either.


A bullet comprised of the same mystical material as his vaunted blade, nigh unbreakable and laced with Death's own tendrils of darkness, pierced the sky with the sweet, soundless release of compressed air and tore through the distance between the Mercenary and his intended opponents; the Black Jaguar, the 23rd Strigidae, and Asherah with the mercurial haste of a panicked bat extracted from Hell itself. Everything about the shot was calculated, it's trajectory designed pre-meditatively by the Supreme Successor to Sorrow to direct the projectile towards the right side Romeiro's temple, two minuscule chips manufactured to split off of the primary host within a few meters of it's impact and inch their own airborne paths to the left, where they were intended to embed themselves within the frames of Ivana and Asherah respectively, less fatal than that aimed at the Aerokinetic Adonis' being but harmful nonetheless.

The assault was inflicted so as to garner the attentions of the trio whilst simultaneously extorting their momentary lapse in conscious defense, the Mercenary stepping out of existence before them in a noxious cloud of black ash split-seconds after his initial attack with his broadsword singing through the terse air, his frame still concealed by the raggedy cloak yet undeniably ferocious, a single crimson iris peering out at those before him, their bodies yearning for contact with his treasured blade. The soles of his feet kissed the bridge softly and the tip of his weapon followed suite, the Son of Death casting his hood back with a nonchalant shrug and an audible chuckle.

"Do you remember me, number 23?"

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#25 Edited by Fukuro_Zoku (4807 posts) - - Show Bio

Her first mission.

Countless hours stranded atop the mountain, trained by most of the best the Arcani had to offer, including Amaranth and Ivana, the latter of whom she developed what she considered a personal relationship. As much as she was nervous, Alyssa looked forward to her first mission as a chance not only to see her mentor in action, but to prove her own worth as a summation of all the training she'd done on their behalf.

Sadly, were her performance that day any indication, she was worthless. Months of life wasted, a monastic life of training and pain the likes of which had often felt unbearable. All came to naught on that bridge, that day. Alyssa did not disintegrate like the Orochi, nor did her body destroy itself as psionic defences went to work attempting to counteract the Chancellor's attack. With Albert's fading, so did her safety net. Without his protection, she was utterly defenceless.

There was no struggle. No agony that she could perceive. She did not scream, nor fight the assault, nor even know of its ever being launched. Romeiro felt the full brunt of the assault upon his mind and bore it without breaking. Albert and the Orochi lost their lives catastrophically. Ivana lost her remaining eye, just before lashing out herself. Alyssa Turner fell somewhere in between; she dropped to the ground without struggle, her mind shot into an apparent state of oblivion. Reflexively, her body fell simultaneously into Khuenaten's trance-like state. Capable of repairing even damage typically seen as permanent, that bodily reflex served as her only potential salvation from the fate of the less fortunate. It may have saved her life; perhaps, but for the moment, the bio-scan read "comatose."

Walking Bomb Threat

With the collective guard of those on the bridge lowered and practically nonexistent, the hybristic attack of Death's Son came as a perfectly strategically timed assault, its probable success likely calculated as an almost-certainty, even dependent of the reaction abilities of his targets in lieu of their present state.

That, however, would not be ascertained at that time.

Dante and Lyra sensed Albert's absence from the aether first, then alerted Shiho to the situation. From atop Nest 629's frozen peaks, the Diminutive Death Dealer exploded over the distance, nigh-instantly crossing oceans and numerous national borders to the Bridge of Appeal. With her entry, the Zythium katana in her hands buzzed with kinetic energy. The blade of her right-hand sword met the bullet on the way to its target and upon contact robbed the projectile of all momentum. A flick of the wrist and redirection of power later, in less than a fraction of a second she had redirected the bullet back from whence it came – triple speed. Impeccably precise even in her speed, the inertial bullet rocketed back with the utmost deliberation. Its trajectory sent it on a path that, upon perfect success, would send it shattering through his nose, fragmenting the bones in his face and skull, and into the brain stem – whereby an added kinetic charge would cause it to explode precisely at the anatomical center for all life function in the brain, shutting even the regenerator's body down and effectively killing him. Her timing was flawless.

Regardless of initial success, she didn't stop. The concept of "overkill" did not exist for the former Strigidae One turned Strix. Again she exploded. She made a beeline for his body at just under a thousand. Her palm extended at the end of her outstretched arm into the center mass of his chest. Should she make contact, manipulations of the internal bonds of energy holding the very atoms of his body together would go to work at once. An influx of volatile energy flooding into the space between these bonds, causing them to break apart in a violent explosion, his body exploding into billions of billions of billions of billions (and so on) of subatomic particles before their eyes, leaving the walking Nexus to absorb any residual energies.

Her nonverbal retort completed, Little Death replaced both katana at her waist alongside the mask of the Impero still hanging. Next she removed the giant Pocky stick occupying her mouth, issuing what was intentionally a retroactive warning made in snark.

No Caption Provided

"Don't touch."

Jaded viridescent eyes cast aside fell upon the fallen Chancellor, masking a quiet fury. Just as Amaranth was to Shiho, Albert had been inspiration, idol and mentor to her twin Choir aides Dante and Lyra in their up-and-coming phase. Beyond that she felt it too. In her mind his demise and lack of any energy signature whatsoever struck as an affirmation that her search for the Tiger of Babylon would be ultimately fruitless. An affirmation she would fight until forever.

Then her eyes fell on Ivana. The suddenly ambitious Twenty-Three, and her personal favorite Strigidae after a similar following in a previous venture prompted a hasty rescue. The same who had not so long ago challenged for the title of Impero before the Kejijo's destruction. Her sudden spark of interest in being a leader of something, interesting as it was, made no sense. One of the most pivotal of the original "liberators" of Venezuela, Haraguni Shiho long held a rightful place among the council, and claim to the throne if she so wished. All along she held confidence that should she desire it she could have the throne, no matter who sat atop the hill. But that wasn't her interest. In that moment she was present only to give her backing and ensure Ivana made it to the throne, no hindrances.

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#26 Posted by _Envy_ (421 posts) - - Show Bio

@strigidae_23: @rafael_romeiro:

Numb and inanimate is what could best describe Envy's mental state in this moment. The sheer strength and immense power of the psychic attack from the High Chancellor was enough to plow his body into the bridge and embed his figure into its architecture creating a small crater around the shape of his frame. He laid on his back motionless, it was impossible to tell if there was any life left in his body. The mental incursion was over just as quickly as it had began and he seemed to be void of all mental awareness and life, simply staring into the sky with a barren gaze.

In a normal situation where he was mentally vulnerable, his animal instincts would warn him a few milliseconds before he was targeted, but this was anything but a normal psychic attack. The speed and ferocity was just too devastating to even comprehend. His brain simply shut off when it felt its own defenses fall. A few minutes past before the taloned mutant began to twitch his lacerated fingers, he exhaled slowly and low before moving the strained muscles in his body any further.

His teeth gritted in agony as he gently lifted his body from the crevasse of the overpass, his eyes were blood shot and his pupils constricted and unequal while blood flowed from his nose and both ears. His body rattled and swayed trying to get back on his feet, but their was no coordination whatsoever. His instincts were still finding it an arduous task to restart his consciousness. Thoughts then began to flow freely through his mind but they were confused, simple and distorted.

I'm dead. I should be dead. Why am I not a carcass.

He couldn't conceive why he was alive. The entirety of the Orochi army had been obliterated and he had been spared….To a degree. Then it dawned upon Envy. He only survived for two reasons. The impressive capabilities and mental barricades of the other two mutants, Ivana and Rafael, had almost absorbed the majority of the psychic blast. There preparation and skill ensured his safety to a small measure and lessened the intensity of the attack. They took the bulk of the attack as Envy was unwillingly propelled into the ground. The second reason being that Envy's mind had gone dark as soon as his mind had been invaded. A desolate conscious during an attack like that is comparable to an abandoned village trying to be raided. There was nothing to attack.

He grimaced and winced in agony, finally standing on his feet he looked at his surroundings and eyeballed the area trying to understand the events that had just transpired. The High chancellor was dead. He lacked a pulse and there was no rise and fall of his chest inhaling and exhaling. The guards that had stood by him as protectors now knelt in loyalty to Ivana.

As it should be.

The smell of gun powder and rifle lubricating fluid in the distance filled Envy's nostrils. He lacked the willingness to chase after it or think any further on the matter, only his instincts were functioning at this moment. Various sounds were made clear, a gun shot, metal on metal clashing, the whisper of a young, but self assured girl, and Rafael's concerns for the new Queen of mutant kind. He was lost of purpose and was unable to speak, but instead shot a stare at Rafael with a questionable look. Hopefully he was able to read the facial expression and understand the Envy was looking for a command, or a direction of their next move at the least.

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#27 Posted by tha_mercenary (2118 posts) - - Show Bio


Nano-seconds distanced the Mercenary's manifestation before his foes from the first defensive response with his concealed features implicated as it's instantaneously predisposed target, the nigh impossibly paced arrival of Haraguni Shiho both unanticipated and sudden. The Son of Death was not allowed to further his conversation with the 23rd Strigidae, his lithe frame instead forced to react to a Godlike assault that defied reality in itself, something so fast and precise that were it not for the Mercenary's own otherworldly reflexes he would not even have had the chance to register his own demise.

The bullet punctured the centre of his face self-assuredly, making itself comfortable for a mere moment before it furthered it's momentum and eviscerated the remainder of the soldier-of-fortune's cranium with the unparalleled strength of Atlas himself, blowing the Mercenary's entire skull off of his shoulders with such efficiency that any remains not immediately obliterated floated through the atmosphere as infinitesimal bits of lighter-than-air flesh. Due to a complete absence of conventional biology in the mysterious murderer's being he was physically unaffected, otherwise. This meant that his life force was instead directed by some unseen darkness, and each molecule was able to function irrespective of it's counterpart. Without a single trace of brains, blood, or bone in his 6 foot 6 frame he, too, defied reality.

Bloodbenders were oft disappointed in encounters with the Mercenary.

Another thousandth of a second later and the monstrous Strix was at his fore with her palm moving to complete the assault and render the remainder of his vaunted form as non-existent as his once smug features.

Instead, her palm met a vacuum of nothingness where his torso had once been, smoke-like tendrils of darkness licking greedily at her skin. Able to traverse through several dimensions - teleportation to a certain extent - as a birthright, the Mercenary had anticipated the successor to Shiho's primary attack and instantaneously willed his upper frame into a pocket realm, managing to co-exist in both without tearing his being apart. The rest of Oblivion's Offspring maintained it's presence, an arm already millimeters away from her cheek, one edge of his hallowed black broadsword searing through the space between them with predetermined intent to cleave straight through the fibers of reality connecting her face and gouge both eyes out, if not split the entire skull in half. He'd begun moving as soon as she had, utilizing the otherworldly abilities attributed to him by Death herself to gauge his unexpected opponent's haste and immediately adjust his own pace to match hers, his initial lapse in defense compensated for. He doubted he would be able to maintain the even ground for long, as evidenced by her ferocious entrance, but he laughed inwardly nonetheless. What a treat!

Following the success or failure of his aggressive response, the Mercenary allowed the other dimensions to envelope his form and for a split-second he was swallowed into nothingness before manifesting behind his opponent, his frame visibly racked with inaudible laughter, a sight as unnerving as it was comical. The Headless Horseman of Dead Life Force Extortion intended a brutal downward heel-kick to the rear of his unknown assailant's right knee, designing his strike so as to destroy the masterful combatant's mobility and align her pace with his own. He performed this whilst simultaneously reaching for the woman's throat with equally swift outstretched fingers in an attempt at jerking her entire body backwards and into his initial kick, his other hand moving in to rupture her spleen with horrific momentum, his thumb pointing outward so as to penetrate her skin.

And from the space where he had stood not nano-seconds before, at her front, shot his broadsword, propelled through millions of dimensions so as to gain speed, now equipped with enough impossible force to sear through both her stomach and his own in one foul, instantaneous swoop.

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#28 Edited by The_Xsoteric (1176 posts) - - Show Bio
Lucian LeBeau
Lucian LeBeau

Lucian, son of the infamous mutant murdering militant Charlemagne, mockingly extended his arm towards the modestly sized HD t.v. screen permanently fixated on the wall of the Augusto C. Sandino International Airport in Nicaragua. An explanation or the particulars as to why the father son duo were there, would not be forthcoming. But in any case, Lucian was all too proud to draw attention to the breaking news coverage, specifically the international firestorm caused by the latest revolution sweeping across the South American Bolivarian Republic. Led by one of, if not thee, most lethal card carrying mutant survivalists in existence, the twenty third Strigidae. A killer incarnate. Cerebral and calculating yet managing to maintain an unparallelled level of instinctive savagery that both spoke to her internalized passion as well as her quixotic belief in the dominance of her species, of the strongest mutant. Willing and able to sacrifice anything, anyone, in order to thin the mutant race of its weaker members as to allow, in her mind, for the species to unapologetically replace the homo-sapiens atop the evolutionary ladder of genetic superiority.

"Looks like you killed the wrong mutant." smirked the future of the LeBeau legacies. Quick referencing his father's muted execution of Gothic City's emerald tailored archer. "Should have ghosted that bitch back when you were playing house sitter to a bunch of washed up athletes turned Superhero celebrities. Psst, fcking pathetic if ya ask me." Continuing to scuff and emasculate. Or so he believed.

Charlemagne LeBeau
Charlemagne LeBeau

In-spite of his ill mannered bastard's escalating insults, the self-proclaimed Xsoteric remained mentally indomitable. Stoically attentive with his primary focus firmly situated on the unfolding coverage. Only after witnessing the admirable, yet ultimately futile assault unleashed by the desperate Chancellor, did the Killer of Knightfalls speak. "The average citizen no longer cares about the human/mutant war, and make no mistake boy, a war it is, and will continue to be. But like all wars the mass population has grown tired, fatigued. They'd rather sit at home and nuke their dinner, screw their best friends wives and watch television programs with subtly and subliminally crafted homosexual undertones. They no longer have the conviction or fortitude to curb the overwhelming tide of their own evolutionary demise. I'll not led a charge of inferiority." Charlemagne's dismissive monologue had visually disturbed the younger more pro-active xenophobe. "The human race needs time, it needs generational incubation if it is to evolve beyond the mutant species. If it is to one day reach the level of an Ultra-Sapien. We, the true architects of eugenic greatness, must clear them a path. Father....."

It didnt take long before both LeBeaus found themselves wading through a sea of fleeing refugees as they migrated away from the expanding turmoil rapidly consuming their fallen utopia. News of the Chancellors fall had begun to spread fear through uncertainty and speculation. Even though the country's fair handed leader's death was little more then rumor at this point, the nations weaker, less aggressive mutants had begun a long tumultuous exodus across the fabled ivory shaded bridge. Sentries on both sides made accessing the nations capital all but impossible, even with the chaotic downpour of disorganized mutants desperately trying to evacuate the mutant nation, there was simply no way for Lucian or his father to slip behind the border without a maelstrom of combat. Or was there...?

Careful, as to avoid facial recognition, Charlemagne smoothly retrieved his checkered Keffiyeh from around his neck. Casually slipping it up over his mouth and nose before extending his left arm with rhythmic motion. Almost as if conducting an unknown symphony, and in a way, he was. "What the fck are you doing now?" Lucian questioned. "Silence boy. Bare witness to the art of Gene-Bending."scorned Charlemagne. Decorative aerial maneuvers subtly resonated off the Arashikage defiler's fingers. Swimming and swaying in unison with a sudden and unexpected wave of mutants clutching their stomachs, groaning, and even collapsing in some instances as their biological make-ups were unceremoniously violated. Their X-Gene's metaphysically stripped by the most prolific killer of all time. Allowing for the LeBeau menace to conceal their arrival, their location, in a cluster of mutants turned human.

Almost immediately the posted sentries were put on high alert as the bridge's mutant scanning sensory defenses began to alarm, indicating the unauthorized presence of homo-sapiens. "Thats impossible" Puzzled by the unexplained detection, one of the guards instinctively rose his weapon in panic. "SIR! Scanners indicate a massive influx of humans....We're being invaded!!!???" Disoriented by the perplexing development, more guards sheepishly drew down on their own mutant citizens as they tried to pass through the gates. "FREEZE!" Jerking their weapons back and forth unsure of who, or what, to aim at.

No Caption Provided

Charlemagne and his heir weaved in and out of the confusion, gaining traction and speed as they approached the infamous security station blocking the way into Venezuela. And then, without hesitation, they exploded into action. Cinematic motion and theatrical martial arts rained down upon the protective entryway with no remorse, no deviation. And as the crimson stained remnants disturbingly melded in with the death screams of seasoned patrolmen, Venezuela had once again been forced to endure the arrival of the LeBeaus. No mutant would ever be safe again. Not here, not now.

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#29 Posted by Ult_Azrael (194 posts) - - Show Bio

@the_xsoteric: @strigidae_23:

Azra was a bit cold in demeanor come the arrival of Ivana. Not out of disrespect though it'd been taken that way but because of where they were. VZ had been conflict free this was a safe haven for mutants. This racist war was loathed because many craved average lives but were victimized regardless of danger they posed. Azra herself truthfully adored the faction that was the Arcani and she herself had contemplated war. The only reason she hadn't simply walked to DC and gone off like Hiroshima was because of Xenon's wish to keep VZ safe from further conflict.

Now however the crimson elite got to witness mutant might at it's finest before her eyes. The pompous chancellor released a psyonic attack that was the grandest move ever concocted. It was mythical and it left a scar passively felt in the air. But Ivana was better then anyone who sat behind a desk. Like herself and Xenon Ivana and those beside her were a true display of evolutionary superiority. And in a move so swift the walking A bomb could hardly conceive the chancellor dropped in a singular movement. Azra was not one to kneel or bow. She never in public had dropped to one knee in respect. The only soul in this world she'd ever bowed to was Xenon.

Until today as she kneeled before the new reign. "For the record your the finest of warriors." It was as humbled honest and respectful as Azra had perhaps ever would be. "That said all mutants who die today are on your shoulders. So have my elites see you to the medics or stand and fight." Her tone once more returning to that reserved for brothers and sisters in arms. She had known almost instantly of the latest assault being made. A psychic network of security and soldier discipline instantly had the mutant forces aware.

Her departure was quick telekinetic abilities being used to swiftly allow the carmine veteran to arrive at the massacre at the gate. The sight was abysmal as bodies dropped and mutants lost who they were. With a fist that shattered the controls the gates began to close. Sealing mutants behind the walls of their home state and regretfully sealing all mutants and humans around the assailants to their bloody fate. "Sisters control them if you need to. Get any civilians behind locked doors." The order given to the Elite's to safeguard those who would not or could not fight.

From atop the wall she watched as some pounded on sealed doors desperate to escape the murderous human wrath. Others fought and died to both she uttered a simple "sorry" as her hand lit up and almost instantly the bridge was rocked by a most dreaded force. Limited as it might be only befalling the bridge the move was just as potent as any other nuclear bomb. The flash of light was blinding those who survived likely to even have their retinas burned away. Temperatures were enough to turn bodies black. Explosive force enough to rip bodies apart and demolish structures. But such barbarity to her people wasn't paid for in one move.

Landing upon the bridge charred bodies of people she once knew surrounded her. Air was thick with the smell of seared flesh. And the ashes remains and billowing smoked flowed about her in artistic fashion. "Please tell me you still draw breath." Challenge issued as a ring of azure energized blades began to encircle her. Two rested within her hands as the other six hovered aloft by telekinesis.

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#30 Edited by _Darkwing_ (2639 posts) - - Show Bio

How this is probably going to turn out for me
How this is probably going to turn out for me

A few weeks ago I was assigned by my social and cultural anthropology teacher to write an essay on a way that the United States has affected another country, some made it about the Vietnam, Germany, Japan, Korea. All of which are satisfactory examples nonetheless but perhaps a bit too conspicuous for my taste, when I brought up that I was going to write my paper on Bolivia my teacher's eyes lit with curiosity. The demand for cocaine in the 80s from the urban elite in Europe and America destroyed Bolivia economically and socially. Originally the communities who lived in small villages used the coca leaf for nutritional purposes and health benefits, it contains large amounts of calcium which makes the leaf acutely significant since the country lacks a national system of milk distribution and dentists are a privilege that only the upper class enjoys. Among calcium coca contains prominent amounts of vitamins A, C, and D. Like coffee it produces a sort of high but without the crash afterwards, it reduces altitude sickness, hunger, thirst, headaches, and stomach pains which is why originally Coca-Cola contained the coca and was sold in pharmacies.

You would think that the growing illegal trade helped Bolivia economically and it did, for the narco chic who live largely in their haciendas driving their German cars and sending their children to private schools while the rest of the people live like peasants. Since the cocaine laboratory needs strong young men they hire the farmers, leaving behind women and children to work the fields reducing their labor force, therefore their income source and food. Most of their nutrition comes from potatoes seeing that they barely have any dairy products and all of the food goes to the Chapeare (the heart of the cocaine empire) workers.

Workers earn about $3 a day, a quiet substantial amount considering the women working the farms don't even earn a quarter of that. Inflation varied between a rate between 2,000 and 13,000 percent, prices in the city changed by the hour, that's not hyperbole, that's a fact, the dollar value used to rise one percent hourly. A piece of bread would cost 150k pesos and a dollar could get you between 2 and 3 million pesos. The instability has led to peasants to avoid trading for money since it the peso value might drop as much as 30% on a daily basis.

Men are not used for harvesting the coca plant, but for creating the pasta since the coca basically grows itself, the leaves are reduced to pasta in vats of kerosene, salt, acetone, and sulfuric acid. For the reaction to occur they have to step on the leaves for days, since the process burns through clothes they are forced to do it barefoot which results in their ulcers erupting, when they become unable to work with their feet they use their hands until they can't work any longer and eventually just wander the streets or go back to their villages where they can't become proper farmers again. To ease their pain the men spend their money on pasta lined cigarettes, however their minds are corroded as one of the side effects.

The U.S government began putting pressure on Bolivia to control the drug problem. In 1986, the army went after the Chapare but were surrounded by the workers and cut off from their supply bases. The U.S government soon began began raging war themselves against drugs, at home Nancy Reagan used the just say "no" policy to stop teenagers from doing drugs, while officials there only went after the peasants, the workers, and the coca farmers instead of the major kingpins. It's not like they didn't know who they were, It just looks better if you have 200 different arrests monthly. Taking down the kingpins would only solve the problem, and if the problem is gone then they're out of jobs.

To kill the coca plants produced by farmers they send planes carrying pesticides, the only problem is that they don't only kill coca, it kills other crops which are not be illegal, and there have been several testimonies stating that they've killed children along the way too. Politicians in the U.S are quick to pass policies and wage war against drugs because they don't want to seem weak against their political adversaries and anyone can get behind going against drugs. Organizations like the FARC have been formed to fight imperialism and the government labeling themselves Marxists-Leninists, by everyone else's standards they've were merely a group of terrorists except by the departed Hugo Chavez ironically. While they have been seen renovating towns and building roads, they've also used kidnapping, tax extortion, and the production and distribution of drugs to fund themselves.

It's almost scary how history repeats itself tenfold, some time ago the demand for vibranium tore Venezuela apart almost in the same way that cocaine did to Bolivia. I remember seeing it from my television screen, millions were dead, it was horrific, worse than anything Al Qaeda ever did and all for the pride and greed of men. The Arcani, Stark, the Strigidae. History is not even trying to be original, it's just repeating the same chaos over and over again. I don't want to oppress mutants and I don't want to worship them either. Coming here alone would have been stupid, so I hired the world's greatest assassin to help me fix the problem once and for all, I get the feeling that he's doing this for the challenge and not for the money. I also brought Cassius along, he wants to talk things over with her, he strongly believes that he can help her. He has no idea that I have other plans, if he knew that I hired the Mercenary he wouldn't have tagged along, in fact he would be trying to stop me right now.

"Are you ready?"

I ask him as I finished loading the mags of my brand new Christmas 10mm MSGs. I've gone skydiving before, most people say that the experienced scared them shitless and that they never want to do it again, I found a a certain sense of serenity in it. Most gain adrenaline, I obtain peace, It's weird since there are so many things that could wrong, my cape could malfunction, the gloves could short circuit and I would be another stain in the floor. Maybe it's the circumstances in which I have jumped, most have been during missions and what waits for me in the ground is more likely to kill me than gravity.

Like a bullet shell I went down pushing against the wave of air to gain momentum, I once tried to spit while pulling this stunt and let's just say that it didn't end too well for me. At one hundred and thirty meters above the famous bridge where mutants crawled to be accepted into the fictitious utopia, I activated the gliding function of my cape by releasing a small shock from the gauntlets and flew at what felt like almost five hundred miles per hour. I practiced this move a million times with Quintus, I have to place my legs and feet together, rock hard as if I was about to land, body bent at a one hundred and twenty degrees angle. Resembling a bird of prey about to catch the unfortunate animal, although instead of gripping and flying away like a hawk would, I deliver a brutal kick aimed towards Queen Bitch, while taking out the machine guns from their cases to fire at the mutant with the sh*tty haircut, the assassins chick who’s kind of cute, and ---Rafael, one of Grandma Ziccara’s associates who I have no idea what the f*ck he’s doing here but I’m pretty sure I’m going to get shit for shooting at him.

“Hey assholes! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! NO! It’s the goddamn Darkwing!”.


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#31 Posted by Fukuro_Zoku (4807 posts) - - Show Bio


"Reckless," her aides chided worriedly as Shiho charged wholeheartedly into her assault.

But she was not one to scold herself, nor to hesitate when she determined upon a course of action; she charged into her assault, and into the masterfully implemented counterattack that took her eyes not unlike those of her Strigidae companion shortly before. The world of light went red just before completely dark. Functionally blind, she hastily backpedaled into a defensive stance but was quick to adapt. By an extrasensory technique, she allowed herself to sense his presence and motion through feedback of a unique energy signature; though with segmented parts of his body falling both in the natural world and out, the signature remained scrambled most of the time. With movements like that it would be half guesswork.

A teleporter. She recognized it instantly. She had dealt with them before, both in training and in life and death situations. Or both at once, as it pertained to the tutelage of her master Kratesis. In those years of experience, most teleporters seemed to follow a conceptually defined pattern of vanishing and reappearing directly behind targets. A pattern that existed almost universally, at least until she adapted to it. Now her response had been all but automatic.

The kick jackhammered into the back of her knee, forcing it to the ground as intended with an emphatic thud; whether the newly cracked ground or her body took more damage was unclear. However, as it collided and the hand grasped for her throat, she initiated her own precisely timed counter. The connecting foot would find itself bound to its target and unable to pull away, should he try, due to a formation and strengthening of bonds connecting his boot to the back of her suit, fusing them into what amounted to a single material object. At the same time her opposite arm reached up to grab at the controlling wrist in order to trap it before its contact.

Deceptively strong, and further enhanced by her energy reserves, rather than allow herself to be forced into the compromising position, she mustered the necessary strength in that singular arm to overcome the opposing force, instead looking to jerk him forward while switching the katana to a reverse grip and running it interceptively behind her back into the attacking hand.

Then came the broadsword. Tearing through reality at a speed the youthful slayer, in her blindness, had not seen, and thus had not been able to react to in time, it likewise tore clear through her abdomen without so much as slowing.

Again lightning-fast reflexes in response to the searing pain of the assault came to her aid in both defense and mounting yet another calculated counter. Simultaneously severing the bonds holding his foot to her leg, new connections embedded her into the sword just long enough for the crafty Strix to use it, along with quantum tunneling, as a propellant to get behind the nameless mercenary. And as her faded molecules passed through his body, she would trigger both the surrounding air and his body to rapidly destabilize and explode before removing herself from the sword also, allowing it to carry on in its juggernaut path while her body began to initiate its own rapid recovery from the mounting damages she'd suffered already.

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

The Chancellor died and Ivana took the throne with a knife throw. It was a moment that became immortal, a slice of time that would outlive its creators. The twenty third Strigidae took her place in history along side Ceaser and Alexander.

Through her mutant ability to read the nervous system Ivana could feel Azrayne and the VZ Elite kneeling. She heard their words and their silences and knew she had written her name upon the throne in the only ink that mattered: blood.

But it came at a terrible cost. Her eyes were gone and Albert was dead. The Orochi were slain to a man, she could smell the burnt flesh and feel the ash of their incinerated bodies upon the wind. Alyssa's nervous system was as still as the grave.

Friends. Allies. Students. Mentors. Gone. It felt as if someone punched a hole in her chest. She couldn't breath.

Then the pain hit. Every nerve in her body cried out for mercy. The smoking pits of her eye sockets felt as if someone was driving red hot nails into her skull.

She dimly heard Rafael's words. "Are you alright?"

"No." The mutant warrior answered, too wounded in body and spirit to be anything other than bluntly honest.

A second later all hell broke loose. The LeBeau's returned in a maelstrom of blood, proving once and for all that no technology was proof against their fierce cunning. Nor was any ordinary man proof against the purity of their martial brilliance. Mutants died by the score for the LeBeau's were utterly without mercy. The world watched and fear chilled the hearts of a million mutants.

The Mercenary announced his arrival with the theatrical lethality that made him the unspoken nightmare of generations of meta-humans. He was death incarnate and he struck with the ruthless precision his reputation called for before being intercepted by the only Strigidae in living memory to ascend to the rank of Strix, equal to Amaranth. Their explosion of martial mastery and superhuman powers reached the apex of the warrior ideal, and for half a heartbeat Ivana wished she had not been blinded simply to see their battle with her own eyes.

Amidst the wildfire of chaos the Queen of Venezuela rose. Blind and wounded half unto death she had allowed herself to believe the battle was won with the fall of the Chancellor, but it was now clear to her that had been wishful thinking. "Where the hell are the Wildcardz?" She muttered.

Then Darkwing, the child prodigy and legacy of multiple famous families swooped down from the sky. Duel machineguns blazing he twisted into a precision strike that carried all the momentum of his aerial decent. Her somatic reading power warned her of his impending strike and she twisted to slip out of its path on pure martial instinct.

She failed. Though she had achieved super human might and speed through nothing but devotion to the secret art of Khuenaten the twenty third Strigidae was simply too wounded. The Chancellor's strike had drained her and injured her on the cellular level while Darkwing's surprise assault took advantage of her injuries.

Mark's boot slammed into the side of her skull with such force it lifted her off her feet. The super-dense bones of her cranium, weakened by psychic overbleed, cracked.

For a moment she was suspended in the air, Darkwing's boot driving past her head and her body lifted clean off the ground.

In that moment she struck. Her right hand flickered across her body and grasped the hilt of her katana in a flicker of shadow. The draw-cut was a halfmoon of silver, drawing and cutting upward in one single motion, targeting Darkwing's extended leg as it moved above her. Her blade was infused with a tachyon singularity, capable of severing nearly any material, and it flashed toward Mark's leg right above the knee. Few warriors had the reflexes to perform such a move but Ivana had carved a bullet from the sky when her body was yet human. She wasn't human anymore.

Regardless of the attacks success or failure she landed on her back with a thump. Grunting in pain the blind swordswoman rolled to her feet.

"Envy. Kill him." She rasped as she staggered toward the end of the bridge. There was yet work to be done.

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#33 Edited by Rafael_Romeiro (2566 posts) - - Show Bio

@_envy_: @the_mercenary: @the_xsoteric: @_darkwing_:

Ivana's response was expected. After all who truly would be 'alright' after being subjected to an attack the likes of which had never been seen? If not for the maddening extent of his superhuman physical attributes, Rafael may very well have been dead. The pain from the Supreme Chancellor's psionic blast still numbed portions of his body. He felt weak. A large percentage of his strength was used to prevent his body from being psychically ripped apart. While still formidable, his physical strength and speed at the moment, paled in comparison to what he could truly do. He needed time. But time wasn't a luxury he could afford as a series of new opponents emerged. The first was the Mercenary, an enigmatic warrior famed for possessing a legendary resilience that often left his adversaries frustrated.

And as a bullet of supernatural properties blitzed across the air and targeted the right side of his temple, Rafael while dazed and weakened, wouldn't need much. For while the gunshot may have been one of awe inspiring accuracy, the Black Jaguar need not expend his energy by using his speed to dodge. He needed his biophysical faculties and energy to recover. So instead, as his ears honed in on the sound of the bullet, his superhuman auditory perception discerning the direction from which the bullet came, he acted. Aerokinesis was his greatest weapon. A mystical skill he developed and mastered, it didn't fatigue him, and it served as his trump card. Using it to increase the air resistance acting against the bullet's velocity in the hope of slowing it down, Rafael proceeded to command the air molecules in his environment, altering the pressure in the molecules to erect a thick, super-dense barrier of solid air around him.

It was his shield against the Mercenary's gunshot. And a good shield it was, stopping the slowed bullet dead in it's tracks, allowing Rafael additional time for some brief recovery. While the abrupt emergence of the former Strigidae One kept the Mercenary occupied, Rafael's attempted recovery was cut shorter than expected by another unanticipated arrival. Not entirely aware of Envy's abilities, and supremely confident in his own, Rafael dispelled the barrier of solid air around him, and instead sought to erect one around Envy as a means of protection. Simultaneously maintaining two barriers for both him and Envy was too straining a task for a mind that had just recently experienced psionic bombardment. So he resolved to protect Envy and sacrifice himself. The young Knightfall's bullets after all were just that; bullets. Ordinary ones. Gunfire could never kill him.

That sentiment however, almost felt false as the pain of bullet after bullet tearing through his armor and flesh, staining the Bridge of Appeal with his blood, overtook his weakened state and only worsened it. He wasn't defeated. Far from it. But he was injured. Yet his resolve in the mutant cause had never been stronger. The bullets while numerous succeeded only in piercing his flesh but failed to dent his super-dense bones. Had he not been so viciously brutalized by the Supreme Chancellor, he was confident that not only would the bullets not have torn through his flesh so easily, but that he would have been able to dispose of both the Mercenary and the teenage Knightfall without allowing any harm to come upon the 23rd Strigidae. Things however, seemed to be growing more unfortunate by the minute as the LeBeaus made their return in a blaze of blood and gore, spreading their anti-mutant ideology with each homicide they commit.

Charlemagne and Lucian. He would do battle with both of them. Envy was tasked to kill the Knightfall youth while the former Strigidae One dealt with the Mercenary. In Ivana's current condition, Rafael felt that it would be best that she take time to recover. A queen, even a warrior queen need not involve herself in battle. She was needed as a leader. "I'll take care of the LeBeaus", Rafael informed before encasing his entire frame in a double-layered armor of solidified air and taking off to land before the LeBeau father-son duo and quickly employing his aerokinesis to elevate the partial pressures of oxygen around them. By doing so he hoped to induce an excess of oxygen in their body tissues as they breathed in air essential to them, so that he could cause central nervous system, pulmonary and ocular toxicity and subject them to disorientation, respiratory difficulties, myopia, oxidative damage to the cell membranes, collapse of the alveoli in the lungs, seizures, and causing the loss of their vision as the toxicity would peel the retina away from it's underlying layer of support tissue.

He couldn't fight them yet. Not without weakening them. He was far from his optimum health and power. Against opponents as martially revered and lethal as the LeBeaus, he needed to be cautious and calculating in his approach. He would pick them apart from a distance and get close once he feels they have been sufficiently impaired.

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

Dog involuntarily growled low in his throat as he heaved his stiff frame free of the crushed car he'd been laying in for...he really had no idea how long. His bones were roughly five times more durable than those of any human, but the considerable drop, coupled with striking a number of ledges and outcroppings on the way down, had busted him to a pulp. Even now, he could feel cracked bones setting and ruptured organs knitting themselves back together. He glanced around for his opponent, but Razor was nowhere to be seen. They must have gotten flung apart during one of the midair impacts. She could be anywhere in a several-block radius.

He glanced upwards, baring his fangs in an scowl at rivers of pain the movement sent racing through his torso and back. His ears picked up the sounds of combat from back atop the bridge. Heh, at least he hadn't missed the rest of the war. Still, there was the matter of getting back up there; trying to climb before he'd fully healed would take far too long, and he didn't have the patience for that. He stepped to the center of the street, causing the next car to come skidding to a halt as it blared its horn. Before the driver had time to react, dog had sheared the driver's side door from the vehicle, and flung the shocked man to the other side of the street. Lowering his heavy frame into the seat with a grunt, he threw the vehicle back into gear and sped off, heading back towards the bridge.

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#35 Posted by Legacy_ (11267 posts) - - Show Bio

Watch the Throne

It's a tough pill to swallow, but the truth always is. I'm not proud of presumptions being correct, but I'm not ashamed of it. Regardless of your beliefs; candor always finds it's way of prevailing, even through the swamps of denial. So, without further opposition the will of America's faltered as mutant kind once again proved its' inability to be anything more than primal.

"If I've told you once. I've told you too many times already." I react the only way I know how, smacking the desk with a strong sense of disdain, knowing full well that my audience would respond to this disciplinary action with shock. It's then that I know they're at full attention, which is exactly what I wanted.

"The facts are right in front of us," I know her better than most. So, I know she lives off acceptance, especially if it means increasing her alleged power. Yet, it's a dangerous game, dealing with the devil. One wrong move and she'll recede.

"Leaving them unchecked will always leads to madness. Can't you see that?" The Chancellor was dead, Xenon was in the wind, and this Earth's Noah wasn't leadership material. There was no way of spinning this around, politically or through the media. Fear of the inhumane would only catapult.

"What do you suggest, sweetheart?" My mother always spoke with this inherent flirtatious behavior, so much so that it calmed my frustration. She was so sweet and seemingly sincere and often times, like this one, I'd be lost in content before having to consciously reign myself back into reality.

"Your powers, Miss Pierce. They're the solution." Her initial response is to act as if she's insulted by the claim, but she's no Queen of Olympus. Even at the age of thirty she wasn't as seasoned as she'd have most believe. Her powers were too much for her, even at this state. I knew it, because she was given this gift during a time of stress and without guidance this woman never truly outgrew that troubled nineteen year girl. She was messy, inexperienced, every prefix of pseudo imaginable, but she was manipulative. She was a survivor and so when I pressed forward, revealing my hand a bit too harshly....she reacted.

"Hold on. Wait a minute. Slow your roll, boy. Who do you think you are?" She's aggravated by the sensation of being caught out there. I can see her mentally checking every action she's ever made, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that could have lead to me learning the truth. I can sense that she feels attacked so she pressed her palms against the desk, pushing herself upward as her glimmering violet eyes deadlocked onto my position, analyzing my every movement as if she's waiting for me to raise a hand against her.

"Miss Pierce, please. It's nothing to be ashamed of." I tried to reassure her, reaffirm her powers didn't hinder her character. Even with all my intentions I still cared for her, even if she's wasn't my own. In this moment I saw the potential of working with her rather than using her.

"Being a mutant is okay. It's alright---" SLAP!


I hold her in my arms, knowing she's unconscious, but it's the only time I've ever been able to embrace my mother's warmth. The only way I'll ever be able too. "It's alright mommy. It's alright. Being different won't hurt you anymore. It won't hurt anyone, because soon enough we'll all be the same." I hold her in my arms, carrying her out of her office, guarded by servicemen that know the power of god when he walks passed them.

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#36 Edited by Lucian_LeBeau (1524 posts) - - Show Bio

@ult_azrael: @rafael_romeiro:

Transitions came fast and fluently as the LeBeau Legends executed their rarefied martial artistry. Front headlock to suplex to kip up, Lucian brazenly showed off in hopes of gleaming a miniscule moment of his father's admiration and warranted attention. Only to bare witness to the unbelievably agile veteran's own stylistically rich assortment of combat. Spinning waist lock to belly-to-back suplex to no-handed kip-up, Charlemagne followed. Almost perfectly mirroring his son's theatrical acrobatics. Both men capitalizing on their overwhelming Pankration pedigree, disregarding distance in favor of a more up close brutality. Hands on and personal. For the LeBeau's, physically overpowering their opponents had long ago evolved into a testament of narcissistic excellence, of pride and self-aggrandized honor.

No Caption Provided

"Keep up boy, or change your name to Knightfall." Spat the elder assassin while grotesquely driving his forearm into the face of an astonished mutant refugee. Driving him back into the crowd creating an instantaneous path forward. While manipulating Lucian's unstable temperament with sarcastic barbs, Charlemagne's optical testimonial flawlessly tracked the arrival of an unknown combatant. X-ray vision probed beneath the new-comers flesh. Mental documentation rapidly ascertained the presence of a combustible amplification stemming from the gladiatorial female.

Redirecting prior bodily coordination in an effort to break away from his offensive minded push, the Arashikage Defiler veered off towards an unsuspecting Lucian. "DOWN!" he roared, taking his son to the ground and attempting to shield his body. Simultaneously, the modern symbol of hope and progresive thinking, the Venezuelan Bride of Appeal, irrupted. Molten collages of reds and yellows disturbingly amalgamated with flesh and soul draining screams of terror as mutant and LeBeau alike were engulfed in a mushroom cloud of destruction. The devastation of which would not be fully visible for hours, maybe even days. Yet there was something moving within the heart of it all, silhouettes or shadows maybe. It was yet to early to tell. Regardless, hopes of survival would have been an exercise in futility. But still there was something moving deep within the smoldering cloud of rolling smoke.

No Caption Provided

"Nightmares never die bitch, they simply evolve." His voice was raspy, barely audible do to the copious amounts of smoke inhalation and burned out Larynx, but there he was, dragging the motionless carcass of his father across the shattered remains of the bridge. Determined to establish footing on the sacred soil of Venezuela. Both fatally injured warriors displayed visibly exposed portions of muscle fibers, and deeper still, bone and organs. With one arm firmly straddled around the unconscious Charlemagne's waist, Lucian's free hand proceeded to remove an elongated tactical blade from the remnants of his military cargo pant's dilapidated rigging. "I'mma carve you up li...lik...." Something had unexpectedly interrupted the LeBeau Heir's monologue, but more importantly, something had begun to tax his already overworked healing factor on an internal level. Forced to crumble down on all fours, the Full Metal Militant lost hold of his murdering father's body. Violently Charlemagne fell to the ground, barely situated along the crumbling bridges shattered walkway. Lacking any discernible means in regards to a ranged attack, the LeBeau Legends now found themselves facing their own inevitable extinction.

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#38 Posted by Clutch (3263 posts) - - Show Bio

The Art of War is all about man taming the beast inside him and manuvering through the atrocites of human action to prevail in the trenches of battle with a clear mind and firm standing in what one believed in . For Clutch , his belief that everything happens for a reason came in full circle like the legend of the Ouroboros as he stood with no display of emotion , watching the fireworks of the vicious fray explode before his eyes . His only physical motion was that of inhaling and exhaling his toxic vice though his mental had kicked into overdrive as he assessed the terrain and it's occupants like a Bald Eagle stalking it's prey from an unreachable vantage point. The game plan stayed the same, but the tactics had changed drastically in only minutes. It hadn't even been a full hour before the Strigidae claimed her throne with a stunning display of lethality and ushered in an entire new era while ,most likely accidentally , summoning the dogs of war to come out and play. The Wildcard was excited to the point of action as he threw his burning cigar to the ground and crushed its embers out between his black boots and Venezuelan earth. How exciting he thought. How very exciting to watch the most elite collection of warriors at present time in one place , over-zealously hack and slash at one another for the sake of dreams and ambitions. He hadn't even fired a shot as the Strigidae commanded his squadron to before the battlefield had been swamped with legendary figures he had not expected to show-up.

Never one to miss an opportunity , his mind raced and his adrenaline pumped as he began to spew out orders from his newly concocted plan that was formed with uncanny cognitive speed in mere seconds.

"Don't think for one second that we aren't getting what we came for." Clutch whipped around to face his brothers-in-arms. " About 30 miles from the palace , on the adjacent side of the mountain is our target. The entrance to the Vibranium Vaults will most likely be heavily guarded but I'm sure Kayle and Jon can eliminate any interference with ease. Jon. I'll need you to establish a link between us all so that we can teleport to the Vault entrance after you've reached it. Make whatever contract you have with whatever entity you have to but get it done. "

His eyes where intense with an undying flame , partly because they reflected the explosive scenery and mostly because he was the Man of Action who thrived in the most dangerous of situations . The Wildcard leader looked at the ninja assassin who stood idle and silent by his side and spoke.

"Ivana is still our employer . Let's show her why we cost so much." Clutch checked his gear , loaded his weapons , and gave a salute that was matched with a look of trust to his teammates with quickness before stepping into the liquid like rift of space-time fabric known as a Shadow Portal.

There was only a brief moment of darkness as Clutch and Tenjin hurdled through the pitch-black dimension they used for instantaneous transmission , and then they were in a free fall directly above the Empress of Venezuela , landing with force. In mere milli-seconds the duo was spinning into a defensive stance that guarded the Blinded Baphomet known as Strigidae 23 while he adjusted to the deafening screech that was merely a side-effect of traversing through a Shadow Portal. It took only a second for Clutch to shake off the handicap and calibrate the entire area into a mental map while whispering to Tenjin under the chaotic sounds of metal on metal. The almost telepathic message he gave to his friend was simple. "Help The Strigidae."

He opened then closed his liquid adamantium fist before eyeing down all opposition with murderous intent. It had been a long time since he was surrounded by a group of people who probably surpassed him in terms of technique and he reviled in the thought of knocking at death's door then decking him square in the jaw. Clutch stood still while pressing his hands together in a fashion similar to the buddhist monks to focus his inner self like Tenjin had taught him too. The Winter Soldier was preparing an attack that would get everyone's attention , and the reason for his namesake soon became evident as he broke his brief trance like state by slamming both fist into the ground until the terrain began to shake.

"Ante up!" a tremendous roar was let out only to be drowned by the sound of a massive dragon made from the most dense and rigid ice exploding from it's seemingly subterranean slumber , twisting into the sky with majestic grace , and then slamming towards the ground with enough kinetic momentum set to severely injure anyone in the area who was not fast enough to dodge it's initial impact. Of course the aftermath of shrapnel that would turn into flying ice daggers was a different beast entirely.


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


In a plane flying south

Mark had told Cassius of his plans, they were rash headstrong and frankly stupid. But he knew that Mark would go along them with or without him. Mark was younger then him and had what any gentistic would call a molotov cocktail of a family tree, but as the last remaining male heir to the Knightfall he found himself patriarch of a fractured group of headstrong teens and people who wanted nothing to do with him. It was his duty to make sure Mark, Sophia and any of kin didn't end up making the mistakes of his brothers and he would stop at nothing to prevent this. So he found himself sitting on a plane at the will of a kid alongside a man he didn't trust as far as he could throw him.

This Merc that Mark had apparently invested heavily in sent all the wrong messages and his reputation preceded him. Cass knew killers well and this guys fit into the most unsettling and dangerous of the subgroups. He wasn't morally or financially driven he just did it for the hell of it. These types of people where explosive, dangerous beyond measure. A modern weaponized berserker with a semi automatic weapon and blade wrapped in a composite high quality armour. The kind of guy Mark or he could beat without a heavy cost should he decided they were the better sport.

Sitting bolt upright as the light began to flash and the three fighters prepared to drop into the fight zone. Taping the young Knightfall before he jumped "Watch your back and leave Ivana to me you hear"

Diving from the plane Cassius primed himself for what was to come darting towards the battlefield before deploying his parachute and cutting his descent to a slow float above the battlefield below. Spotting their target Cassius drew his pistol and his knife, right hand over left pistol over blade. The chaos of the battlefield now audible as he drew nearer to the ground. Cassius eyes fixed on Ivana mapping himself a path to her when he heard it. "Lebeau" Hacking at the straps of his chute Cass shot forward once more gaining as much momentum as he could in the short distance to the ground. Using every ounce of his frame and plummeting force to bring the grip of his pistol crashing down on the man he hated above all overs. This was no longer a rescue mission,there was a score to settle.

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#40 Edited by tha_mercenary (2118 posts) - - Show Bio


Bones, had they existed within the Mercenary's trapped wrist, would probably have shattered upon encountering the mysteriously sourced strength originating from the elegantly structured hand of Haraguni Shiho. Had he been under the influence of underestimation up until that point he held little doubt regarding the simple fact that he would have been defeated. It was such a concentrated amount of force, so calculatedly swift and confident that very few in the world would be able to react appropriately when faced with the sheer skill of the Strix' instinctual counter. Inwardly, the Mercenary shone yellow teeth.

His devastatingly powerful heel-strike reached it's destination and the earth, for but a split-second, trembled beneath them in awed silence. The Son of Death was unable to gauge whether he had destroyed anything important or not, allowed no time to further the damage inflicted upon her leg, already prioritizing his responses to the sightless former Strigidae's counteractive machinations. She intended to manipulate his balance by twisting his outstretched limb forwards, simultaneously reacting to the other impending threat, a momentum-fuelled fist with visceral inhibitions, by eliminating it's movement with her katana's unyielding malice. Thousands of physically non-existent impulses alerted the Mercenary to several items of business, the foremost being that his foot had been suctioned to the woman's frame, his broadsword was hundredths of a second away from emerging, and that he'd somehow been swindled into a precarious state of assured pain.

Half a millennium's worth of otherworldly combat prowess snatched the script to the situation and the Lord of Life acted upon pure, refined, instinct; willing his leg from the knee down into another dimension as he had only split-seconds before with his torso, managing to free himself from the instantaneously cunning Shiho's grasp and propel himself forwards into her predetermined momentum, abandoning his assault and suffering a brutal impaling to his right forearm, the punch turned palm splay rendering him vulnerable. It tore across his wrist and nigh halved his arm, threatening to cleave the flesh apart completely. Were it not for instantaneous reaction speeds the Son of Death would have lost an entire limb, his indifference to pain allowing him to dismiss the development and instead place his hand on her shoulder, utilizing every last ounce of strength stored within the severely damaged arm to exploit the Strix's grounded form as a platform off of which to catapult himself in an attempt at evading his oncoming broadsword.

They were like north and south, her downcast features dark and horrifically mutilated, his entirely non-existent. Him with his spine arced slightly to accumulate airborne momentum, the tips of his toes scraping at the sky, her with a single knee nigh embedded within the earth. He felt the air change upon his skin, his esteemed weapon finally making it's entrance, and recognized the infinitesimal reverberations throughout his opponent's frame beneath him as it's maw kissed her abdomen and tore through like some nightmarish chainsaw. Then, she was gone and he was floating alone in the air without any beam off of which to balance, his only indicators as to where everything was the minute ripples of air across his costumed flesh.

The Mercenary's inwardly folded form struck the floor neatly and he came up in a series of backflips, completing the extravagant maneuvering with the flourish of a dagger in his uninjured palm and a crouch, prepared to re-enter the fray and capitalize on the presumably afflicted Strix Supreme. Instead, he was blown off of his feet by the unconventional appearance of what appeared to be a mountainous ice dragon. He was unable to react fast enough, the absence of his treasured iris forcing him to rely on the atmosphere's vibrations, something wrought by chaos in every direction as more and more combatants manifested atop the battlefield. The tremendous impact resulting from the makeshift missile's contact with the bridge nullified the Lord of Life's effortless evasion skills and he was cast through the air like a bullet, his form crashing through the rooftop of a lower surrounding building, the momentum carrying him through several floors of ancient concrete-like solidity before he came to a rest in a crater at it's base, unable to discern what exactly his environment was with dust and debris collapsing around and atop him.

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#41 Posted by Kayle_Rez (726 posts) - - Show Bio


"Right." The pirate of an endless high remarked with a playful salute. From their point on the cliff they were free from the bombardments of conflicts. Which was good truely amongst such legends the thief knew not how reliable she'd be against these forces. She also however was no mutant however or tied to this conflict. She lived for the game of theft and piracy and her allegiance was to the wild. In her hand she had a sniper rifle that might have been ideal for the conflict. Could be popping skulls of those who tried to strike the new empress but why bother.

Jumping on the mech she adored as beloved as any pirates vessel she pounded the side. LAW her A.I then moved as needed taking flight the roar of the mechs engines masked partly by the various explosive conflicts allready in play. "To the mines Thorin." The pirate remarked teasing the A.I. As she so often did.

"I hope they've a Smaug to eat you." Retorted the mech.

As the mech touched down Kayle was quickly met by resistance. Two guards stood at arms ready to fight to the death spears at ready. "Cool it kiddies I'm back up." They didn't take to the remark well saying how she should be with the others and so forth. "Uh come on look at me what are guns going to do against all that?" She gestured to the distant bridge. A small mushroom cloud a ice dragon and of course as Elite the guards knew what was going on over there. They pointed to the large jet like fighter behind her. It looked like it could turn into a giant robot and seemed to have a large payload. "Damn it you two I didn't want to do this.

A flick of the wrists and a Trixy was in each hand with a trigger squeezed. A bullet ripped through the skull of each mutant before they could muster a defense. "See the issue with working with pirates come a raid like this is there's a moment of exploitable lawlessness." Proud of herself and flicking the stick of her sucker off the ledge loitering as welcome a crime as any she fetched another of her narcotic candies.

The TM700 the pirate used with A.I on board used to be her home amongst the stars. A large cargo crate had been modified to function as living space. For the mission however she placed the additional engines and the like to a regular empty crate of the technological populace of the stars. It could carry almost two hundred tons worth of material. "Let's get to work." The mech opened the crate and a series of assist bots came out to assist the thief. Admittedly the bots in use were frail and the mech was limited while landed. But who cared about Vibranium at such a time.

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#42 Posted by Ult_Azrael (194 posts) - - Show Bio

@rafael_romeiro: @lucian_lebeau: @cassius_knightfall:

A bomb dropped on their end of the bridge it's damage as beautiful as frightening. And as the moment transpired the father Lebaue leapt to take the brunt of the frightening detonation. It was noble valiant and the kind of bond of family so many shared. When the crimson elite saw the son rise with father over shoulders like a motivational propaganda piece it was nauseating. These were the greatest threat to the mutant race. The reason Azra had no parents, who were slain in the introductory of world rocking conflict so long ago. They were the reason she had to harden. To see a touching moment like that between the Lebaue's was enough to make her sick. She'd have be gagging if she saw it on the news. Seeing it in person had her blood boiling.

Before insult could be complete one of the new queen's finest arrived. "Thank you." The elite remarked as the Titan above leant aid in starting to apparently seize the breath of the legendary foes of the species. Having trained with many mutants she knew the power soon and almost instantly tried to seize the opening.

Dropping on the downed Charlemagne was an apparent rival. The telepath network of the Elites told Azra the other air born arrival attacked the queen. She didn't take the Knightfall as friend for the time though he was aligned with her and Raf. Hit or miss with the pistol Azra would try and seize the Lebaue mastermind with her mind. TK would attempt to crush the mans gut pulverize the lungs while breath was already short. She'd at the time also attempt to toss the legend between Knightfall and mutant titan. Making the Lebeaue hopefully easy pickings.

Knowing the younger Lebeaue who still managed to be on his feat to be the deadlier threat however he received the focus of the crimson elite. With the aid of telekinesis she could fight with eight blades making for one of the deadliest of styles. Many masters could fend off multiple blades but eight acting simultaneously it was a style all Azra's own. Charging forward her right arm swung for the mid section, a phantom sword went for the jugular, another for the shins. Many could dodge two blades striking from the front that usually placed the defense mid and high or mid and low however by targeting all three one blade often could land. Lashing in a scorpion like motion two blades shot up and over aiming to pierce shoulder blades. In a arch coming from the sides like pincers of a scorpion the other two blades sought to pierce the spine. In her left hand rested the eighth blade to use as a defense. Seven simultaneous blades was a fierce motion in itself but Azrayne practiced this type of fighting to be as lethal as possible to showcase the might of her race.

Her radiant blades were composed of the nuclear energy she used. Hot enough to cut through most metals but made better by the energy she used. One cut simple or deep was all she needed as the nuclear energy would then be residing in the body of her opposition. This energy could then be detonated making her prey self destruct in a brutal display. Seven moves in one with but one needing to part flesh. It almost felt like over kill but if anyone deserved it, it was the heir of the most hated name.

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#43 Edited by Vinnie_Tahoe (759 posts) - - Show Bio

Using the general disarray as a means to shroud his movements, he sneaks into the Venezuelan palace. Three quarters of an hour, that's all it took for him to get to the place of action: The Bridge of Appeal. Not that he wanted to take part in it anyway, our charming hero courageously leaps off the said bridge. Not to his dastardly death, oh no, he uses his grappling gun to move under the bridge, grappling along it from beneath like a spider. You see, the fight that took place above couldn't matter less to him, Vin's true goal is the Great Hall of Arts. A part of the palace, secluded from the rest, you could describe it as the former king's collection of - well - whatever junk he deemed worthy to showcase.


"Say evacuate your sleep, it's dangerous to dream, but you chain cats get they--", with headphones on, singing along to Mos Def's Mathematics, he arrives at the other end of the bridge. His movement drawing the attention of a sentry who stood on a nearby balcony, but before he can even react, all of Vin's momentum is carried onto his face. "--CHA-POW!, who dead now?" A flat knock-out have I ever seen one, he merrily continues singing along. To explain: Vince again used his grappling gun to swing above the sentry, before retracting the rope in mid-air and falling onto the poor working man.

"Killin' fields need blood to graze the cash cow. It's a number game, but sh!t don't add up somehow." Lifting himself up and moving the unconscious sentry away, he gives him a friendly pat on the head before moving on into the Great Halls.

Surprisingly, they weren't heavily protected. Only one guard protecting the entrance, while the rest must've been monitoring the action on the Bridge. Not like Vince was complaining, his job was only easier. Swiftly knocking out the guard with precisely aimed left hook followed up by an upper cut, he sneaks into the Hall of Arts. Fan-boy mode fully engaged, as one would say. It was Heaven for a treasure hunter like Vic, he marveled at every exponate along his way towards his mark.

Blackbeard's medallion, that's what he was after. He was sure nobody would miss it, they couldn't even begin to understand how this spawn of ancient magics worked. It was how the old pirate king reigned for so long. Proper activation and the tiny accessory was capable of erecting a spherical electromagnetic shield around it, which would draw in any metals in the vicinity or short out any tech. Anyway, with but a swipe of his hand Vin had it. The operation performed, a sleight of hand technique, was actually much more complex but I will spare you the details. He still had his manners and overhearing that @strigidae_23beat the Supreme Cancellor in battle, he leaves a wad of money on the pedestal instead, along with a note which said: "I bet against your ass, guess I chose wrong. Anyway, here's to you."

About five minutes later, Vince was already about to head out. Several other artifacts would leave with him, but something caught the corner of his eyes. Blood. Moving closer to inspect, he is met with the dishonoring vision of a redhead (@kayle_rez) and a group of robots hauling away the vibranium. Staying behind the corner he made sure to keep his presence a secret.

Infront of him stood a choice: Honor the theif's codex and let them be or man the f*ck up and stand up to them. After all, the whole economy of a people stood on that damned metal...

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#44 Edited by boschePG (6320 posts) - - Show Bio

@vinnie_tahoe: @clutch: @kayle_rez:

Black waited as his metallic Wildcard partner raced toward the direction of the vault. Black lagged behind, following his own path into the depths if the jungle. He approached a clearing and stopped, extending his arms toward both directions and just waited. Waited for that moment to be answered.

There was a plan. There always was one, but with the appointed leader of the Wildcardz, there was always a deeper one. He hadn't known the team long but the deeper plan always revealed itself in the midst of battle. It was a, "what have I gotten myself into", moment. And the man behind it could be Keyser Soze himself and not even blink.

Black stood upon the land, feeling the temperature drop in the distance. An ice dragon had awakened. He could smell blood being spilt and finally he could feel the wind of the land gush over him in negotiations. Clutch wanted the Vibranium and a way to teleport to the riches, he was going to get one. All Black could do was show his devilish grin from ear to ear and unleash a laugh which echoed through the distance.

Black reached into the dark depths of his Soul Suit, an outward expression of the depths he had wagered his soul and others, a marking of beware to any demon that came across him, and pulled out a lone dagger from the depths. It was a sharp and glistening blade. Its metal not known to age or decay. He grasped the blade and plummeted its sharp blade into his other hand where if he had tendons and bones he would have surely severed them. His skin began to almost heal instantly around the blade as a lone drop of what could be called his blood fell onto Venezuelan soil. He pulled the blade out of his hand and threw into the ground between his feet.

The deal had been struck. Terms agreed upon. All it took was the mutant DNA which allowed him into Venezuela and his blood. His blood was the one side of the negotiation and the mutant DNA the contract. A perfect mix of science and magic. And not since the days of Moses, when the spirit raced across the land to claim all of Egypt's first born sons could he recall this spell being enacted.

No Caption Provided

The ground itself seemed to bleed outwardly a blackness which infected every shadow it could touch underneath the thick canopies of its trees. From the shadow morphed into manlike figures which continued to multiply. They were the warriors long forgotten of Venezuela. Warriors who protected and fought for one thing for centuries, the vibranium. This was what Jon Black had negotiated. The metal which the country held so highly also tore its foundations apart from its mutant upbringing. Sons had lost fathers. Brothers had lost brother. Families gone without a thought in a fleeting moment. All for one thing - the vibranium. The shadowy figures opened their eyes which revealed a mass hatred for its metal upon the land. They began to flee into the trees like locust upon a harvest. One shadow would arrive and then disappear only to reappear as two as it made its way toward the vaults. If one was a mutant and claimed Venezuela as its home, they had better not have come upon this horde. The screams which echoed from the direction of its path only reassured the brokered deal.

Clutch wanted a way to the vaults, this was their opening once they wanted it. It was a dark afternoon but today would be remembered as the day Jon turned it Black.

We have our way out, Black uttered in confidence to @kayle_rez, How are you holding up?

Rez responded in her assuring voice only for Black to stop her mid-sentence. Someone was here with them. It wasn't mutant nor Venezuelan or else his army would have shredded him. This person was mystical. This person was interesting. We have company, Rez. Ante up!


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#45 Posted by Tenjin (2432 posts) - - Show Bio


Tokyo Wildcardz HQ


The Grim Ghost entered the extravagantly decorated headquarters from which shadows danced, intruding on the thoughts of his young though respective leader. His alabaster Tom Ford suit was contrasted by the raven colored dress shirt beneath, though unbuttoned to the center of his chest revealing a multitude of scars. The sound of his black Ferragamo chelsea boots gracefully thundered in the silence and solitude of his comrade. As he approached, Clutch began to speak while Tenjin proceeded to pour himself a dram of twenty five year old Glenmorangie Scotch and engaged in smoking a fine cigar. Katsuro himself, though a mutant, felt little sympathy for the Liberators' cause nor for the wellbeing of his species. His callousness was due to his treatment as a child and his complex code of honor and self-reliance. Had someone possessed the wealth to afford Tenjin's outstanding fees of service and demanded the entirety of Venezuela be exterminated; he would consider it. But that was not the case. It was the case however, that he would be involved in a coup of sorts, as Strigidae 23 had paid a small fortune to aid her as the future leader of the Mutant Mecca. Thus his loyalties sided with the revolutionaries no matter his personal opinion on the matter.

His red eyes scanned the cards which Clutch had laid out and presented a rather elaborate example of the politics of monarchies and the overall dynamics of the mercenary lifestyle, Wildcardz in particular. Katsuro's smile was veiled in mystery and simply nodded in confirmation to much of what Scott had been saying. Something sinister but nonetheless thought provoking was on his mind. Pressing his back against the crimson and gold damask print wall, smoke escaped pale ashen lips as he spoke quietly once Clutch finished his final sentence, with a gleam in his eye as infernal as any demon's "I didn't travel hundreds of kilometers to talk of revenge and playing cards. I am far more interested in the potential business venture we have found ourselves in Otouto-san*. Perhaps I am alone in this but I ask myself a single question when Venezuela is mentioned....What about all that Vibranium?"Katsuro then whirled the Scotch in the crystal whiskey glass, taking in the floral notes that aromatized and then slammed the liquid down at once. Not only had Tenjin been a mighty warrior and a master assassin but indeed operated one of the largest black market smuggling and trafficking operations in the Pacific Ocean. To him, this entire ordeal was immensely lucrative regardless of the political factors that it represented. If this heist was successful, he also would dawn a crown, as the king of the Far East black market.



Destruction. Mayhem. Death. These are the words to describe what the Kyoto Killing Machine witnessed from afar. Though he was numb, desensitized from countless years in the fighting pits of Asia, he was no less marveled at the sight of it. Tenjin stood adjacent to Clutch, while his jet black hair flowing in a strong southern wind, he was motionless. His armor form fitted, silhouettes and shading of masses of muscle were revealed beneath, like an obsidian statue. A living shadow; Genshokage. This is what he was molded for, shaped like clay into the vicious Virtuoso of Violence and was prepared to sanctify the Bridge of Appeal with the blood of his enemies. He was now merely awaiting his orders. All Clutch had to do was say the words and wanton death would come. Yet, breaking his still posture, Katsuro lifted binoculars to his eyes, aided by his cybernetic neural implant, he caught glimpse of a personified vendetta. Knightfalls. He loathed their kind; walking bastions of decadence and narcissism. He had long since renounced his mission to eradicate them but now, faced with the circumstances, he was certainly tempted to do so.

"Ivana is still our employer . Let's show her why we cost so much." Clutch spoke, Tenjin missing the bulk of his leader's speech as he cognized dismembering, his train of thought easily derailed by aggressive impulses. A low nefarious chuckle bellowed behind his closed lips as he crushed one side of the binoculars by clenching his fist. Shards of glass, steel and plastic fell upon the soil just before Katsuro lifted a Zastava M93 Black Arrow anti-materiel rifle by the handle off of the ground along with an additional magazine. He then began to walk towards the Shadow Portal following his comrade into the fray, easily resting the scope of the rifle against his shoulder, his face now overtaken by the seriousness of the situation. War was upon the them.

As they crossed through the Shadow Portal, hands composed of utter darkness outstretched as if reaching for them as the two Wildcardz descended onto the battlefield. Tenjin performed front aerial, propelling himself forward mid-air with outstretched legs only to land on his feet gracefully and converting the momentum into a short combat roll. As he lifted himself onto one knee, he pressed the stock of the Zastava against his shoulder and surveyed the bridge quickly utilizing the eight x magnifier optical sight. Glancing over at his comrade Scott spoke once more "Help The Strigidae." Katsuro stood to both feet and nodded in confirmation, he was not to engage the enemy unless engaged. He would provide escort for the Empress and continue with the mission objective, essentially taking over the role as personal bodyguard.

His heavy boots carried him to the now completely blinded Ivana, as Clutch unleashed a devastating cryokinetic construct on their enemies. The Human Hayabusa declared with his distinct deep baritone voice to his employer "I am Katsuro Hanzo Yamamoto; My blades are yours to command."

*Otouto-san: Japanese- "Little brother" plus honorific

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#46 Edited by _Envy_ (421 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided


Still slightly dazed and recovering from the psychic bombardment, gunfire began to rain down from the sky in an accurate and endless assault. Instinctually, the leader of the mutant terrorist group known as the Liberators brought his forearms to block his head, but the metal projectiles never came.

Looking around, he noticed that the air around him had stopped or blocked the majority of the gunfire. It was hard to notice at first due to the rapid speed of the wind, but thats what made it such an effective defense. It had to be Rafael, Ivana's personal ally. He took a mental note that he was more than indebted to him for risking his own life. Envy didn't have to wait long for Rafael to give him a sense of direction as their newly anointed queen had already given the order with haste.

"Envy. Kill him."

Simple and direct just like the mutant preferred, it may have seemed that their faction of the battle had won, but this was far from over. This was a trial by fire for Ivana and her followers, including Envy and he wasn't keen on the idea of failing them at such a critical moment in the fight. Drawing his enhanced bone talons from his forearms and wrists, he bellowed a loud roar. It's thunderous boom echoed through the bridge and he inhaled deeply, a technique used by the first mutants to bolster their spirits and instill fear in their enemies during combat.

"You are in our way, Child!" He howled even louder. Crouching down, Envy gritted his teeth in anticipation and sprang from his heels, using the momentum to launch himself in the air with all 6 talons drawn and directed towards the boys throat. His eyes were still hazy and didn't retain as much focus and acuity that they normally would, but he could still make a precision decapitation.

The boy was extremely young, but age didn't determine a warrior and he shouldn't be underestimated.

Taking this into consideration, Envy readied his lower extremities to scissor kick the adolescent assailant, hoping to knock him into a lower position and to give Envy an edge.

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#47 Edited by Vinnie_Tahoe (759 posts) - - Show Bio

Finally coming to the painful conclusion that he will have to get involved Vin comes up with a back up plan. Sprinting full speed towards the unconscious guard, he makes sure to step as lightly as he can to muffle his movement from the potential enemy. It takes him a few moments to arrive by the K.O.'d guard, but the trip was hopefully worth it. Crouching near the guard he begins to loot his body aiming for one thing in particular, a com-link, but practically anything he would find was of use to him. For example, he too the pearlescent guard armor for himself to elaborate his plan. Anyway, finding what he sought Vin returns back to the corner he first came from, on his way witnessing something like shadows moving past with blinding speed. Had he not had his superb reflexes he would most likely not seen them.

Vince takes a moment to get his game face on and to some degree gather his strength before ultimately having to confront the theives. Overhearing the words "Ante up.", he comes out from behind the corner. Right hand raised, the Modern Argonaut makes way towards the redhead (@kayle_rez) and her accomplice in black (@boschepg), who must have arrived when he was looting the guard. He walks 'dressed to kill', donning a set of pearl white guard armor with the helmet in his left hand. On his way he is constantly keeping his sight on them, but his attention is also divided. Vince was using his periferal vision to map out his surroundings.

"Hello you two love doves.", he says while continuously marching closer to the pair of theives.

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#48 Edited by Kayle_Rez (726 posts) - - Show Bio

@boschepg: @vinnie_tahoe:

The operation had so far been smooth with the spells of Black and the genuine pandemonium taking place who cared about a little piracy. A legion of small drones had been loading ton upon ton into the cargo portion of the mech. At thirty percent completion however she was soon disrupted by a new arrival. Which reminded Kayle she could really use a radar, she'd have to get on that.course she wasn't without her methods of investigation either.

It started by mannerisms. Way he stood and moved felt more like a thief or adventurer or at least not like a soldier. He stood with arms raised, again a soldier would raise arms or display a mutant ability. Another note was that she was a Wildcard she wasn't an "enemy" she was on Ivana's side and not the Chancellor's but that didn't read villain. Lastly the HUD of hers had identity registration, often used to spot her targets. This led to the response.

LAW the mech at rest swiveled the large Gatling gun toward the new arrival. It's rounds designed to fight space craft it'd utterly pulverize most organisms not of the high durability. At the same time Kayle was quick to withdraw Slick a sub machine gun with corrosive ammo and great against armor. "Whatever did happen to honor among thieves. They'll have plenty Vibranium left can't I just steal in peace?" If resolution could indeed not be kind then she'd go on with using whatever means necessary. A onslaught of automatic rail gun fire from LAW would be joined by a barrage of acidic rounds moving at three thousand mph she wasn't about to have her theft of one of the finest resources go south.

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#49 Edited by _Darkwing_ (2639 posts) - - Show Bio

The twenty third Strigidae was beyond a formidable enemy, if her ability to counter an assault was at such peak level when blinded and severely injured then Mark should be scared of meeting her on a better day. Darkwing had intended to exploit her apparent disability in that borderline artistic kick, he had arrogantly believed that she was too hurt for any kind of retaliation, so sure that this was going to be an easy win for him. A mistake which he would pay for, there's truly nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal and Ivana was living evidence.

Blood from the Cardinal Mamba's washed down his thigh like a river from the wound implemented by the 21st Century Joan of Arc. A combination of his inherited Knightfall reflexes and LeBeau senses allowed him to see the incredible instinctive slash as it was piercing his skin in slow motion, but was unable to do anything about it since the glide put him in a vulnerable position which could be countered by a combatant of her intuitive speed.

Mark rolled on the floor with enough propulsion to get himself back on his feet directly, he had tried to hide the fact that the move had injured him to avoid showing weakness regardless of the gore flowing down, however the feeling of the cobble ground smacking against his injury during the twirl had gotten the best of him. He applied pressure on his thigh with a burning pad to stop the bleeding, he knew he didn't have to time bandage the wound properly now, not when the clash was at such a critical moment.

"She must have enhanced senses, I need to find a way around them".

This battle isn't going to be won through power, numbers, or even skill. No, he's going to win through misdirection. Fact is, when you're fighting for your life like everyone here you don't really mind your surroundings until it's too late. Everyone here is focusing on one person that they want to take down when they would be more effective if they switched the people they were fighting against randomly.

The Knightfall Prodigy dropped the machine guns on the floor and waited for Mr. Eighties to respond accordingly to Ivana's orders. Upon his shout to intimidate him, Mark placed his hands over the Dual Trion Katanas given to him by his dear genius uncle before passing away. As a master acrobat, Mark hated to admit that the kick was executed beautifully. At the same time however Envy was attacking the wrong cookie with it at the wrong point, the fair distance between them allowed him to counter it. In one motion he took a step sideways, unsheathing his blades while the mutie was still mid-air, and precisely slashing his swords in a downward diagonal manner towards his torso hoping to cut him into three pieces. Envy made the same mistake Darkwing had with Ivana, he utilized a flashy attack without assessing the situation correctly, unlike Ivana he wasn't going to be as forgiving.

He turned towards the blind assassin and arrogantly taunted

"If you want me dead then you're going to need to send someone better than a redneck with a bad haircut!".

Now, the group of assassins known as the Wilcardz had shown up to make the crimson snake's life a hell of a lot more difficult. He took a second to examine the situation and think up a plan to defeat his new adversaries. Underestimation would lead him to certain death, he had to drown his ego before he could make the next move. The Blood Rose's heart slowed down, his brain wave pattern changed drastically, pupils became dilated. When Andres saw him do this for the first time he called it a "natural strategic instinct", an ability to analyze a problem in a real life situation and mathematically solve it. He possessed such an amazing skill despite the fact that he had ironically gotten a D+ on Algebra II last quarter.

The serpent created by the Frozen fan boy who took the movie too seriously was only an obstacle now in his mind. The snake struck against the ground so brutally that it killed itself in the process, creating a small earthquake that caused part of the terrain to tear . Darkwing used the extreme density of his bones to catapult himself into the air and activate his boots that could only give short propelling boosts, the dagger shaped ice picks that rained cut through the flesh in his shoulder and ribs like paper but ultimately it did not decrease his pace.

Managing to land with the proportionate agility of a spider, so sure that the attack on the dragon had succeeded he followed by extending his arm towards Rafael, applying compression three times quickly to fire a small pointy dart containing a capsule filled with 200 mg of the Inland Taipan's venom, when 110 mgs is calculated to be enough kill one hundred humans. The poison from the Taipan is more poisonous than the venom of the common cobra, sure death will follow after forty five minutes the person who gets tagged. In this case it would not be Rafael, for the dart only seemed to be aimed at him to distract him from the explosive snakeorang that he stealthily sent flying in between his legs earlier when he was landing after dodging the ice monstrosity, the death filled projectile merely grazed the Modern Day Adonis's ear by six centimeters, ricocheting against a broken desert sand pillar, the back into the clod, and with a little bit of luck towards the back of Hellnova's neck interrupting her move on the Hitler twins.

Watching as Cassius tried to beat Charlemagne's brains out his skull, one question bothered him.

No Caption Provided

Cassius had been compromised, Mercenary was knocked out of the field, he was the only remaining. Outnumbered, outgunned, it was the moment to make a judgement call. Every part of him told him to join his uncle and beat the living hell out of Charles and the devil's spawn for all of the terrible crimes that they have ever commuted. Despite that, he knew that if he was going to have any chance of succeeding he was going to necessitate strength in numbers too. The Carmine Elapidae rushed in the direction of the current Knightfall head family member while he was too caught up in the moment to notice him moving so he could knock him away without hurting him too much.

With baleful intentions he stabbed his sibling who seemed as if he was about to pass out with an adrenaline shot anticipating that it would be enough. Fortunately, the Fuhrer needed something heavier than some adrenaline to get moving. Mark activated the electricity mode in his gloves and cuffed the Xsoteric in the chest to give him the little jump start that he required so much.

"I'm willing to temporarily forget all the dreadful things that you've both done if you help me kill the bitch that runs the show. I need you two to distract Elsa and his snow buddies.".

Reaching to his pocket, Mark handed the dynamic bastards two sound neutralizing earphones that get activated once the sonic bomb sends a signal after being switched on. Mark, Cass, and Merc were already wearing a pair before entering the battle in case it was deployed, however he still carried a spare in case he ran into an ally in the battle. It wouldn't block the full effects for them since they had to share, granted it would diminish the over bearing pain. Without any further explanation he threw the never ending sonar bomb, it rang a hellish frequency that had previously made both human and mutant testing subjects bleed out of their noses and in extreme cases popped their eardrums. In a room full of powered beings it was also a safe bet that at least 75% of them have some sort of enhanced auditory system making the gadget work more effectively.

Expecting that the combined effort from his toy and the racist dickbags would buy him enough time to reach the soon to be dethroned Queen of Venezuela, he began moving at speeds that Formula One racers envied.

Darwking intended to use his entire body weight to tackle her through a column, down the bridge where they would engage close combat while falling. The Noir Raptor would begin by stabbing her with the infamous mamba fangs in the stomach whilst tightly applying pressure in her throat wanting to crush her larynx , the dual carbyne teeth get their name for being dipped in the Black Mamba's poison which can kill the person bitten in four hours so even if he doesn't survive the fall and she somehow manages to come out alive...it won't be for long.


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#50 Posted by Rafael_Romeiro (2566 posts) - - Show Bio

@_envy_: @lucian_lebeau: @cassius_knightfall: @ult_azrael: @_darkwing_:

With Charlemagne presently in no condition to partake in the commenced bout, Rafael focused his attention on the only LeBeau that remained conscious; Lucian. This, to the Black Jaguar was an opportunity. An opportunity to permanently eliminate the most dangerous dynasty to mutant-kind in recent memory. An opportunity to ensure that Ivana's reign as Queen of Venezuela would go unchallenged by any credible threat. It was the only way the mutant community would survive and eventually prosper. With his sights set on Lucian, Rafael's armor-clad frame strutted forward, his footsteps soon pausing however, as he came to realize the overt amount of attention that shifted towards the LeBeau Jr. Cassius the Knightfall Black Sheep, along with others immediately sought to relieve the LeBeau duo of their lives.

Seizing the opportunity to recover instead of expending his energy on attacking an enemy already being swarmed by those with a lust for blood, Rafael remained silent and more or less in the background. Recovering his strength was key to victory. But as the narrative insists, again the Portuguese's attempts at recovery were interrupted, by the Knightfall youth. He knew nothing of the child, nor was he aware of the boy's familial association to Ziccarra Liafador, a former acquaintance of his from his time as a monarch of the Hellfire Club, a period of his life he has since turned his back on. The child's dart, while fired with deceptive intent, never alarmed Rafael into reacting. In addition to possessing auditory perception enabling him to hone in on the sound of incoming projectiles and determining their exact distance and position, and the aerokinetic perk of detecting minor disturbances in the air, Rafael possessed more.

Abuskhau. A skill taught to him by the 23rd Strigidae herself. A skill that enabled him to uncover the true potential of his kinesthesia. A form of sensory perception found in all humans, one that allows them to determine the physical positions of their extremities in relation to themselves. In Rafael's case however, his Abuskhau skill allows him to comprehend his position, and the position of other objects, in the physical universe with greater speed and clarity than any average human. It allows him to react to threats seemingly without delay. He perceives and understands his position, and the position of other objects in a physical system. His subconscious censor, altered by Abuskhau has it so that it is no longer between thought and action. The body and mind work on a sequence of perception-evaluation-planning-conscience-reaction.

One sees a threat, then takes a moment to determine how dangerous it is, then how to counter it, then one experiences a moment's doubt, then one either defends, attacks or flees. With unnecessary components of his subconscious censor removed by Abuskhau, Rafael's body and mind react instantly, instinctively and perfectly to nearly any threat, doing exactly what is needed in order to counter threats without conscience. The dart, as close as it flew past him, presented no threat, therefore, he did not react. No dodge, no facial tic, not even a blink. The explosive projectile however, was a threat. It was fortunate though, that prior to confronting the LeBeaus, he had encased himself in a conjured armor of thick layers of air solidified and rendered denser through the manipulation of air molecules and their pressure. Coupled with his own superhuman durability as well as the Anti-Psi Armor, he endured. And was confident that Envy would occupy the teenage Knightfall.

Though still injured from the Supreme Chancellor's psychic blast and the Knightfall youth's previous barrage of machine gunfire, Rafael was powerful, frighteningly so. It was a shame however, that the Knightfall youth's projectile shattered his armor of solid air with it's explosion. He paid the boy no attention however, and set his sights not on Lucian or the party that had come to unknowingly assist him in eradicating the LeBeaus, but an unconscious Charlemagne. "You toy with the lives and freedom of mutants by using whatever means you have to destroy their X-Genes. To relieve them of something essential to their very being, something you believe to be a cancer", Rafael paused, his words calm but his tone resolute, his features tame but carrying a quiet intensity. "Today I will relieve you of something essential to your being", again he paused, now shifting his attention to Lucian, "Your legacy", Rafael paused, "And air".

Targeting Lucian first, he sought to remove all of the air molecules around the LeBeau Legacy in the hope of confining him to a vacuum before attempting to do the same to Charlemagne's unconscious frame with the intention of depriving both LeBeaus with one of the most essential elements man needs to live; air.