Invasion-The Dehli Incident

Gen was a monstrous man, always had been and if he so fit always will be. But today he watches as the simple finally feel the wrath of a monstrous creature. The child of Darkness was no more, no he had forgone that name some time ago. Now he holds in his palm the ability to corrupt and to destroy, as he had with four alien creatures over the last five years in space. Taking the strongest from worlds he had found in his travels, and corrupted what evil they had within so that it was absolute. He need not for demonic abilities or powers, all he had to do was cater to what they wanted deep in their souls. Now these four, his Riders would be unleashed upon a new planet. They may be the most recent in countless to be called his Riders over his travels, but they are by far the most strong when compared to their predecessors , and of they were to fall this day he would find new ones.

Watching as they soared like bullets to the sand below he also thought of his most recent creation. The Ichor an Ich, they were something new something purely twisted from the recesses of his mind. He took pride in their creation and smiled wide as they moved with the Riders. Many hidden from view until needed, but Ich(@ichorborn) was something he greatly enjoyed. He waited like a father to see what he was capable of, and as another portal opened behind Gen his grin widened even farther across his face. The Red Eyed(@humansfirst) creature he had taken in and transformed had arrived and he held his hand out to stop his decent downward "Hold....let them have their fun first...then once anyone arrives go ahead and give them some more to deal with. If anyone of my Riders fall today, you my Red Eyed Demon will have a new position and a vast amount of credit to be given. So just wait..."

With that Gen waved his hand and a portal opened into the In-Between and he stepped in as he spoke "I am taking my leave for the briefest of moments, I have some things to attend to, if the need arises I will return. You are in charge until I return.....although if I do return and this matter has not been resolved know that you will be the only to receive punishment." and with that Gen was gone back into the darkness he so controlled and the real war had begun down below.

In The Bazaar Square

The first to make it to the ground was Feerl an she landed with such grace it was as if she were connected to wires as she touched down onto a single toe. An instant later the desert sands that laid outside the city erupted with plant life that never had been there before, large vines and flowers erupted from the ground and choked out the sky above as they reached nearly to the heavens. Nearly blotting out the sun as the vines formed into a cocoon of vines and foliage she giggled as she held her hand out to the nearest to come to her, as if mesmerized by an unseen force the woman stepped forward and took her hand.

If the woman had seen beneath her armor she never would have come near, as the sickening grin that was cut into her face would have terrified her to the very core and told her to run away. The moment her skin touched Feerl she seized and convulsed violently until every inch of her exposed skin burst no it popped like a boil as plants spat out from her body and bloomed into flowers. From the flowers of the woman's body and those all around the city crawled both Ichorborn and Deckos. The Deckos attacked anything nearby with ferocity that never held a darkling before them, and with each fallen dead human an Ichor squirmed into an open wound and took over the body turning them into a make shift Zombie that attacked at random just as the Deckos had. Feerl laughed loud as her plants began to attack those who manage to escape the evil that came from her flowers.

Second was Unoon and he landed just outside of the square and held hard to his station as the dome of vines erupted and formed. Quickly as if they were prepared for an altercation the local militia began to pour in and soon Unoon was inundated with men women and it would seem children to fight. IF he had a solid form it would have a smile forming across what would be his face, he came from a species of alien that were large blobs of acidic nature. They could form bodies but they hardly ever needed to, for anything that touched them would turn to ash or goo with a single embrace. He was in a constant state of near death, his own abilities devouring his very being. As he was given the name of Dying by Gen so he would unleash an endless swath of death onto anything that tried to enter from his position. He knew that the vines Feerl created did little but keep the humans in, anything beyond a human level could blast through but they were prepared. Right now and until more came, he would have fun with these humans. Opening his chest armor a burst of acidic liquid sprayed like a fire hose over all in front of him, quickly anything it touched became a puddle of goop or burst into flames as his gelatinous form allowed for a awkward cackle.

High above was the dome that was now covering the entire area was Yoshimi the Diseased, hovering over the dome a ooze of energy slowly spewed from every crack in his armor and spread outward. Turning from liquid to a gaseous form as it poured out from his body, and began to cover the vines that Feerl had produced. Anything but the Riders entering directly through the vines without first making a hole would be covered in the sticky substance. Yoshimi constantly produced a substance that had various properties, but majorly it would hit the nervous system of whatever touched it and send it into a state of shock. Not directly harming whatever touched it but their minds would be in a constant state of fight or flight, allowing for the potential to make mistakes and some victims saw things hallucinations from the substance. It was a baseline ability and unpredictable but it was his greatest tool, as he was frail in strength but he was incredible when it came to speed. Quickly able to attack and counter with speed at par with a speedster, something that his armor allowed as it was close to his body and not heavy as the others. He waited for his first victim to arrive from the skies...

Finally and with a thunderous boom came Gon who smashed through the vine dome and to the ground as quickly as it was erected. The hole he made quickly filled with more vines, his massive Axe slamming down as he did into the ground beneath and causing a mini earthquake. As the earth parted from the shadows and darkness of its open maw came hideous Ichor that quickly latched onto anything nearby suffocating anything in their liquid forms. Gon had control over the more mobile Ichorborn and he used them to his satisfaction as he barked loud "Finally I can smell the stench no longer, now my senses are filled with the sweet scent of blood." a brash and dim witted Rider he quickly began to kill randomly mutilating anything before him even to the point that the parasite forms of the Ichorborn did not try and infect the bodies.

Now it had begun, Gen and his Riders had made the first move. Now it was time for anyone anything to try and stop them. Ich hid within the shadows and the In-Between waiting to arrive and take control if the four were to be too presumptuous and kill too many. Their goal was to kill many but at the same time take control of even more, for the armies of the Father of Darkness needed to be vast. And this was only the first stepping stone...Ich waited patiently just as did the Red Eyed Demon even higher above.

Then

Corruption takes all, but it is not something born from outside. It is inherent in every one of us. It is weakness that craves strength. It is indignity that yearns, futilely, for respect. It is love that pines and festers into jealousy and hate.

So it was with me. Vengeance stole my heart, but I was not strong enough. Not nearly so. I trained and trained, worked until I sweat blood, the pain forcing the tears from my eyes, but I knew it was not enough. Not enough to challenge him.

Then came the voices. Whispers at first. Infrequent ones at that. But those whispers soon became a din. Those smatterings became swells that called for blood, for power at any cost. And I was born to indulge them.

"We know what you seek. We know what you are, what you wish to be. Give yourself to us. Let us make you whole."

That was the cry that destroyed me, the one that broke my spirit, that made me cry out in acquiescence on that fateful night. "<Show me! Make me strong! Fulfill your promises! I yield to you, so show me what powers you possess!>"

This I shouted, as though by instinct, to the stars. They did not answer. But some deep rumbling did, something inside of me. Looking back, I know now what that was. It was that black speck all men carry with them, the corruption carried inside, inert but ever present. That is what I bid forward. That is what answered.

--YOU ARE WEAK--WE WILL MAKE YOU WHOLE--

It was then that the ichor spread within me, every heartbeat pushing it into the furthest extremities, the tips of my fingers burned with the black that springing forth from the darkest reaches of my soul. It was in me all along. I was only ignorant of it. Naive.

My iron shell warped around my new form, the inky black stretching and deforming my limbs and trunk, thickening in my veins and choking the life from me. My old life faded as the black flowed into my mind, as darkness ate at everything I was. Everything I used to be. The changes... they were almost unnoticeable at the outset, but I could feel them burning within. Feel that black sludge seize everything inside of me, grasp the physical, the mechanical, the digital aspects of my being, fusing them into something greater. It did not matter that the whispers in my head had coalesced into one singular being. That his name was Gen. That he commanded all that I was, or ever would be.

None of it mattered. I had power. Power enough to kill the psychic bug that sent my friend's intestines slithering into a gutter, bled him dry. That is all that mattered then. It is all that matters now.

My vengeance will be done. And after that? After that it doesn't matter. He can do what he likes with me. The world can burn for all I care.

And if the whispers are telling me the truth, it very well might.

Now

His gaze carried down to the carnage below, hidden from mortal eyes by the thick foliage, but not to his. He could see the heat dissipating from the bodies of the dead, never to return again to the bright hues they once held, oranges and yellows decaying into blues and violet, almost black, forms. He felt nothing. No pity, no sympathy, no hate or anger. Their deaths simply were.

He did as ordered, waiting motionless atop the vessel upon which he had come. It was not a matter of patience, nor of feelings of fidelity to his new lord, his brain simply took in the words and reordered his mind in such a way as to comply. The ichor had taken well to his human mind, altered it in ways useful to him, allowing him effortless dominion over his own desires, but allowing Gen that same overriding access to his will.

His hand gripped the black blade. Waiting for the first of this world's notorious heroes to crawl out of the woodwork, to make themselves known. Then, and only then, could he descend upon them and fulfill his master's desires.

Ichor Released

The black creatures welled up out of the ground, sprung from flowers and out of the remains of Darklings. Everywhere there was death the slugs seemed to spawn as though from the very soil, leaping and squirming their way into the fallen and seizing their bodies to further augment the flesh they controlled. Quickly, the bodies piled and the slugs joined, sharing one mind in grisly coordination. They pooled the corpses they had gathered, fused the oozing, slithering worms of bundled nerve and muscle into a singular being, a twelve foot tall, towering behemoth of rotting, black bone and muscle.

The noncombatants made most of its form, and the militia, for their part, fought valiantly against it. Hired mercenaries rained bullets upon its improvised body, the slugs crawling all along its exterior shedding in great, bloodied clumps, easily torn asunder by their weaponry. When the time came for its response, it raised its arm, a cudgel of squirming worms and cobbled-together corpses and swiped at the mercenaries, knocking those who did not react in time against the dense foliage birthed by Feerl, reducing the plants and the men into paste. Those who evaded, who thought themselves safe from its attack, were assaulted by the worms shed in its attempt to crush them. The slugs leapt up from their positions on the ground or in the trees, panicking the men and allowing the Ichor Spawn battle with a less composed foe.

The raining gas Yoshimi spread upon all only fueled the fear the Ichor Born were created to cultivate, but also provoked the fight response in the slugs themselves. They writhed with agitation, springing from the core body whenever given the opportunity, striking at the slightest provocation, the most minute sign of weakness.

On the ground, the fallen slugs were cannibalized by their brethren, dead nerves and muscles given renewed life as they were absorbed into those still living. It was a self-perpetuating nightmare, one seemingly infinite in its ability to seize fallen flesh for repurposing.

A nightmare that went, for the moment, unopposed.

Kuiper Belt, Outer Solar System

Amid a sea of asteroids, comets and dwarf planets that stretched from the shadow of Neptune to the outer reaches of the Solar System, the Augusta space station glided like an emerald glimmering among ice. And inside it lay the Hypercube, an immigrant structure from the hyper-spatial bulk beyond ordinary space-time. There, the Prince of Power hovered through higher dimensional hallways, his white cape flowing behind him as the monotone voice of Augusta's dominant A.I. - Hex - echoed from a luminous hexeract floating by his right. ||-Your father would disapprove of this-||, Hex reminded. "You're not wrong. But my father expects me to love everyone", Leonel dismissed, his tone calm and certain, "And I can't love everyone. Nor should I - or anyone - have to".

"I don't owe a preexisting moral debt to strangers I've never met", he asserted. Floating through an open door to his right, Leonel glided into a room of colorless walls and open windows. And there, inside the Hypercube - a house from the hyper-spatial bulk of which ordinary space is only a subset - those windows were gateways to anywhere on Earth, anywhere in space-time. So into them he gazed, folding his arms before his chest and watching the chaos in Delhi, India unfold. ||-So why watch if you do not care?-||, Hex asked, hovering about him like a hummingbird. "Because, the perpetrator could be powerful. Someone to challenge", Leonel said, making clear where his interest lied; not in altruism for altruism's sake, but in becoming the ultimate warrior. A goal through which he plays his part in opposing the tyrants and villains, in opposing those strong enough for him to test his mettle against. For only once he'd become the ultimate warrior could he ensure that the nU never fall to the fate his home universe of Reality-M had.

And it has not been since he and Trinity had spearheaded Gen's defeat in France many years ago that he'd done battle on Earth. So he watched. ||-Are the ones in Delhi not strong?-||, Hex asked. "They are. But not enough", he answered. ||-Do you plan on intervening at all?-||, Hex pressed. "Not yet. First, I want to see what kind of spoiled brat's trying to claim Delhi. A powerful or weak one. Then I'll decide". There, in the far reaches of the Solar System, the Prince of Power watched the power lay claim to the city of Delhi like a prominent force of nature. The perpetrators were powerful, undoubtedly. But what of the mastermind? If there even was one.

Near a small cabin on the edge of the Canadian/US boarder:

The phone in the corner of the cabin kept ringing, over and over again. He had ignored it more than once as he stood on the river bank fishing pole in hand. The cigar smoke blew from his lips as he spoke to his wolf. "When will they learn to leave me alone Sheba?" He pet her on the head and cast another line. He had been long retired, leaving the life of a solider, mercenary..... killer behind him. He was content to let the world destroy it'self without his hand on the blade, but they never seemed done with him. Long ago he had given up the mace, the blade, the Mohawk. He was now just an part time crab fisher, full time recluse. The sun was setting and he began to pack up his gear when Sheba gave out a low growl. The thumbing sound of heli blades was slight in the distance and he knew they were coming for him.

In his drive parked next to his old Bronco was a new state of the art fast attack heli. Slowing walking up the trail he saw a group of black ops soldiers standing at alert around the heli. Once again Sheba let out a low growl. Seeing him walking up in jeans and a flannel shirt with his long hair pulled back didn't stop the men from hitting a strong salute as he approached. "Major Anderson sir." Shaking his head Hawk threw his pole into the back of his truck and walked into his cabin. Sitting next to his fireplace with her feet on the coffee table, smoking one of his cigars was a woman in her early 30's. Her long blonde hair was pulled back with military precision, but she wore black slacks and a white blouse and black high heels. She didn't stand as he entered the cabin, just took another long drag of his cigar and blew the smoke high into the air. "So I have been promoted?" He asked sarcastically. She just nodded as he poured himself and her a glass of bourbon. She accepted the glass with a nod and without saying a word turned her ipad and hit play before handing it to him and getting up and walking out the door. Only stopping to pet Sheba on her head on the way out. Sheba wagging her tail looked over to Hawk as he studied the scene on the ipad.

"He is in." She said into her phone before stepping into the helicopter. The voice on the other side returned, "Good. What did you say to him to convince him?" With a slight smile "Not a word."

War

He stood looking on from a distance. A bottle of Jack hanging loose in his hand, taking swigs as he watched horseman work their deeds. He stood studying their movements and showing off their abilities, each possessing some form of power. Finishing off the bottle he threw it shattering on the ground before starting his slow walk forward. His long hair lay across his shoulders as the dew wet it. His eyes focused on the scene in front of him. Every step was intentional, every move as he made his way was purposed. Slowly he unsheathed his sword, which was tinted red with the blood of those who had fallen under it. This wings remained hidden, ready to explode into action at any moment. He continued to walk.

The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air. The decay was already around him but he continued the long walk to what could be his final death. He mouthed his favorite poem.

On a dark night,

Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–

I went forth without being observed,

My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure,

By the secret ladder, disguised–oh, happy chance!–

In darkness and in concealment,

My house being now at rest.

In the happy night,

In secret, when none saw me,

Nor I beheld aught,

Without light or guide, save that which burned in my

heart.

This light guided me

More surely than the light of noonday

To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me–

A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me,

Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,

Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover,

Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast,

Kept wholly for himself alone,

There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him,

And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret

As I parted his locks;

With his gentle hand he wounded my neck

And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion;

My face I reclined on the Beloved.

All ceased and I abandoned myself,

Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies

"Death come and take me......"

H.A.T.V. (Concealed above Daytonville)

"Uh ma'am, you might want to see this" Agent Barnes called out disturbing her daily meditation reprieve. "This had better be important" She called out moving from her study to the bridge. S.T.R.I.K.E had been concealed above Daytonville for hours monitoring a situation that involved a seemingly resurrected "Ziccarra Liafador" and a being from another planet fighting allegedly over one of the Universal Lavalieres.

Just the thought of a Lavaliere appearing in Dayontville was enough to investigate, but orders from the U.N halted STRIKE involvement; they didn't want another Spain Incident. It admittedly put a damper on a lot of would be STRIKE missions.

"What's the issue?" She asked taking point at the head of the bridge. For a moment, the other Agents showed hesitation; they'd forgot she was the second-in-command while Ruby Gallagher was out--a role that was usually reserved for Agent Norfleet.

"Just about an hour ago, four alien lifeforms crashed down in Delhi. First reports are coming in and they aren't good." Norfleet reported. Maya's eyes watched the television until the signal was lost, even then her azure eyes watched stare in confusion.

"I've...I've seen this before..."

She whispered to herself. In her own timeline Maya's France was taken over by Darkchild; one of her world's worst villains; her Omega Justice team was the first line of defense and they failed to save it. That became the turning point in her life, that failure turned into the Trinity Foundation...and became the catalyst for a bunch of events she was never held accountable for.

"How far are we from Delhi..." She asked which immediately drew the concerns from Agents Barnes, Line and Norfleet. Reluctantly Barnes answered. "We're about 3,225km away." Maya said nothing she immediately turned moving back toward her office before she was stopped by Agent Line.

"Ma'am, we're not authorized to intervene. We have to report this incident and get..."

"AND GET WHAT?" She snapped drawing the attention of the entire bridge. "There's is a Universal Lavaliere being fought over below us, and we're doing nothing. We've tracked down Ada Guillaume and we're doing nothing. I'm not going to let those people suffer because we're doing nothing. The last time the world did nothing my France ended up in f*** space! I'm going!"

The Golden Goddess immediately changed before heading off whispering her father's famous worlds. "The World Still Needs Heroes"

Dehli

Like a bolt searing the sky toward the Earth the Golden Goddess rose in her Solace 2 outfit, the freshly embodied "S" bent like a bolt of lightning shining as a beacon of hope for all those who saw her.

"First things first" She whispered, before encasing herself in a film of light before moving through the narrow streets snatching whoever she can from harms way. But she knew deep down it was futile...she'd had to stop it at the source.

@somebody_:

Arthur was sitting in his office when he first got the alert of the attack, in fact, he got the alert before It even made its way into any of the news outlets. The W.A.R.P. Laboratories satellite made sure that any extraterrestrial activity that went on inside Earth’s orbit would be noticed and tracked immediately. Looking at a feed of images on his watch, saw what the satellite was picking in a different country. “New Delhi.”, Arthur said as he got the location confirmed. He quickly got down to his personal garage and picked his most powerful armour, readying himself for the upcoming battle.

Wanting as much back up as, he located another superhero by the name of Spyder who was currently in Metro City at the time. After he a few seconds of flying, he was able to get to his location to pick him up. “I hope you don’t have anywhere else to be, because we’re going to New Delhi. Based on the supersonic speeds that the suit was able to travel at, it would only take a few minuets for the high of them to get to the location. Before they got to the drop point, a giant dome was seen appearing over the city. “No turning back now.”, Arthur said as descended.

“Get ready for the worst roller coaster ride of your life.”, The dome was coming at much faster than Arthur anticipated, forcing him to shoot downwards with Spyder holding on for dear life. The suit suit down and just barley made it past the dome as he spend downwards. Moments before crashing into the ground, Arthur changed his trajectory so that he was now flying horizontally, but only about two feet above ground level. He then deployed his parachute before they could collide with anything else. After about 30 seconds, the suit landed onto the ground.

“Welcome to New Delhi.”

In one moment, he was standing within the climate controlled bounds of the JLA's moon base, staring through the top of the domed facility, up into the striking beauty of the blue Earth above them. In the next he collapsed on the streets of Dehli, his stomach churning from the sudden shift in location, his tongue marred by the familiar taste of iron in the air.

People were dying alright, and they were close. All around him he could see unnatural black bile streaming from the dead, worming tendrils of flesh writhing their way into the fallen, beast-like creatures, part machine, tearing at the innocent, large, unfamiliar plants sprouting up to deliver death to those that approached, four creatures, killers all, sowing their own brands of chaos, and above it all a floating fortress of dark designs, mute, but only for the moment. It was a nightmare given physical hold over the city of Dehli.

It was a new but familiar scene, violence overtaking the lives of those that simply wished to be, and he knew the solution to it almost instinctively. He had to cut out a swath of security in the absolute madness of the battle itself, a place the innocent could hide and the other heroes and soldiers could retreat to, should the need arise. The plan the JLA wanted to drum up after they arrived would have to wait, for now his own would suffice.

"I'll try and set up an area for the civilians to run to, let you know where once I get it up. You guys just do what you do best." He nodded to the four riders, prominent even at a distance.

"Good luck."

With those final words, he took off running, vaulting over an overturned food cart and cutting across the bazaar toward the nearest sounds of gunfire. As he ran he drew up the H&K MP7, firing it into a nearby mass of slithering creatures harassing a militia gunman.

The hollow points exploded into the flesh, quickly fragmenting and tearing at multiple slugs as they worked their way into, and through, the repurposed body. He rolled off of one shoulder just as a massive arm slammed down into the space he had occupied moments earlier, fissures forming in the ground where he had stood. In the next moment his PDW once again belched fire and lead, the creature's leg collapsing as the bullets tore through its bone and tendon supports.

Slowed, but not stopped, it continued to give chase, clawing its way across the streets with bones stripped bare and fashioned into talons. An M84 stun tossed into its writhing mass flash fried several of the small creatures, scattered others, and allowed the pair to evade their pursuer.

Sure hope there's no rule against killing zombie-alien things in the JLA..

The next bout of gunfire he responded to led him to a run-down cafe. It was shuttered, a building held together with scrap metal and spare wood, with no windows save for the couple of small rectangles cut into its front, facing the street.

It would have to do. He ushered the militiamen into the building where they took up position at the windows, firing on those that pursued. He remained outside, calling to survivors and telekinetically blowing back the creatures that leapt off the corpses of the Ichor Born.

He ushered over a few more stragglers who had managed to survive the first wave of Gen's assault and then furiously typed in a sequence on the JLA communicator, a request for ammunition and automated defenses at his position before communicating to the other responding JLA members his position.

"I'm at Jayesh's Cafe, in the Sadar Bazaar. It's a real shit show here, but the building itself is safe for now. I tried calling down some of the cryo-turrets and foam sentries to help secure the place, a few mobile barriers, and more ammo for when I start running dry. Here's hoping you guys can sort this all out before I get to that point. Godspeed, everyone. Aurelius, over and out."

With that, he swapped out the MP7's nearly depleted magazine for a fresh one, handing the other off to a youngster he immediately identified as a street urchin, along with a pouch full of 4.6x30 H&K hollow point. The boy understood immediately, beginning to load the magazine with bullets almost as soon as he had received them.

Then came the snarl from outside, and the shooting began again.

@ichorborn: @darkchild: @cutting_edge:

“I hope you don’t have anywhere else to be, because we’re going to New Delhi."

"What? Why?"

Just wrapping up a recent fight, literally, as the Slyder finished spraying down a few thugs with his web-spinners, encasing them in a cocoon all nice and cozy until the police arrived. The Amazing Arachnid had just busted a smuggling ring of illegal anti-meta equipment. The ensuing struggle took a turn for the worse when the sellers decided to use their own merchandise on the Amiable Arachnid, resulting in a chaotic battle. Luckily, his recent upgrades proved effective in combating this new threat.

<Unknown lifeforms have invaded the area. 98.2% they are extraterrestrial in origin. The citizens need immediate help.>

Footage from the ongoing catastrophe had displayed itself in Reggie's HUD, earning nothing but silence from the Wisecracking WebKid.

What. The. Hell. Do I say no? Yes? Aliens are out of league. I've never even fought an friggin' alien! What if . . . what if I die? What would Richard do?

"Let's go. We're wasting time."

I'm gonna die.

On the hyper-sonic trip over, by whatever means of technology or perversion of physics, Reggie remained attached to Arthur Mark's suit. At this speed, they would arrive in minutes. Not that Reggie knew of course; his onboard A.I. STAT had informed him via his HUD integrated with his lenses. Neat. However, after a solemn thought, the Spyder couldn't shake the realistic chance he could very well die. He wasn't a pessimist. Quite the opposite. But this . . . this might be something he might never come back from.

"STAT, start recording. If . . . if I die, send it to my family, okay? Immediately."

<Reginald, I doubt-.>

"Just . . . just shut up and do it, okay?"

<Recording in three, two, one . . .>

"Mom, Dad, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Well, not right now. I'm currently hitching a ride with Arthur Mar. Y'know, Cutting Edge. But that's not important. I want you to know he didn't drag me into this. I made the choice to help. To fight. I'm sorry. Maybe I should have stayed behind. But I couldn't sit back and watch people die. They need my help. I'm so, so sorry. End recording."

"Recording saved. We're nearing our destination."

“No turning back now. Get ready for the worst roller coaster ride of your life.”

Okay. Game face on.

Ignoring the tears that formed around his eyes, Reggie steeled himself as they descended, not wanting to hurl in his mask. Once they were near ground level and the chute was deployed, STAT signaled that it was time for the Spyder to jump. Leaping off the Metal Warrior, the Spyder expertly rolled a few times, distributing the impact and force all along his body, before skidding to a halt on his feet.

“Welcome to New Delhi.”

"Delighted," he weakly quipped.

Springing upwards, he then shot off of the ground on his own, web-swinging and separating himself from his mentor. They didn't have time to waste. Didn't mean the Reggie didn't activate the communicator installed in his mask to keep in contact with Mark, and it wasn't as if Mark couldn't monitor Reginald's activities and position. So they were covered there. But Reggie needed a partner he could talk to. Someone to help him keep a level head while Reggie set out doing what he assigned himself to do. Improvise.

"STAT, I need the fastest, most efficient perimeter we can set up to keep those things from spreading. Also, make sure to alter the web-pattern on everything I got. We need the webs tight and strong so they can't break or squeeze through. Highlight all avenues of escape and any civvies. We need to keep the casualties to a low."

<Analyzing. Marking nearby civilians on your HUD. Displaying optimal perimeter formation on HUD now. 14.8% chance of completion before projected quarantine is broken and decreasing. 47.1% chance of rescuing nearby civilians. 1.7% chance of accomplishing both tasks.>

Dammit. I can't do this alone.

"Patch me through to Mr. Mark. Now."

<On it.>

"Sorry about leaving like that. We don't have much time. I've got a plan. I'll set up a perimeter. Make web-nets that block them from spreading out, covering all routes of escape. Roads. Alleyways. Rooftops. Streets. Anything. I'll keep an eye down low; you go up high. I think you should try and rescue as many civilians as possible 'cause you got the most mobility, speed, and firepower. Scan for anyone who might be a ally who can help us fight that and whoever the frick they are," Reggie highlighted the huge dome with his HUD that was at the center of the disturbance and chaos before highlighting the figures that were guarding the dome, "And help us work on evacuating the civilians.Those things infect people. We trap them in a box and cut their food supply, and they can't spread. Then we can beat the hell out of them once we're done. Unless you've got any better ideas. 'Cause this is all I got."

Spraying his webbing like a crazed vandalist as he swung around the areas around the dome, cutting off all avenues of escape for the slugs and their hosts, the Spyder acted on pure instinct coupled with STAT's technical and tactical assistance. Within the large barricades of silk were small electrical sensory devices that would send an electrical shock to any who touched the webbing that wasn't human, an added insurance. He added more structured webbing to the top of his webbed barricades with several of those devices as well as barbed webbing, similar to fences with barbed wiring at the top. It was the best he could think off, the only thing he could think of. Maybe he couldn't stop them from spreading. Maybe it was futile. He didn't care. If he could slow them down, make some kind of a difference, it would be enough. Right now, he would work on quarantining the area if possible unless Arthur ordered him to do something else. This was the best he could think of. A question bugged him in the back of his head. Something he needed to know before he fought whatever it it he was going to eventually have to fight. Yes, the infected were technically not people anymore, deformed and transformed into vile monsters. Creatures of plague. But could they . . .

"You think we can cure them? I don't want to fight or, even, kill them if there's a chance we can get them back. I . . . I need to know before I do anything else. Is there a chance we can reverse this?"

Gunshots rang out. He could here them. The vibrations they gave off. Seems no one else seemed to think so. He was a kid, not a soldier. A hero, not a killer.

What the hell did he get himself into?

@yazhun_sanvun: @king_leo: @__hawk__: @maya_summers: @arceus_aurelius-rex:

@darkchild: @ichorborn: @somebody_:

The landing was not a pleasant one to say the least, but Arthur's suit and body we're still in one piece, for the most part. Arthur picked himself up off of the ground and began dusting himself off as his suit sprayed the outer layer of the armour with a cool stream of water until it regained its normally bright read and gold appearance. Just as he looked up from his now dripping suit, Arthur noticed that his young protege had already swung away from him for the reason of jumping immediately onto the task. "Kid, wait! GAHHH!!!", Arthur yelled in frustration. The spider themed hero was far from being and earshot to his mentor, while not a problem for due to having a constant signal of Reggie's location, Arthur didn't appreciate him going off like that.

Choosing to draw his attention back onto the major task at hand, Arthur came up with his plan of dealing with greatest problem him for him to take on at the moment. He saw quite a few corpses with some sort of parasite slithering their way into the rotting bodies, the key factor in this conflict. "MAT, I need you to analyze the environment and differentiate between sapien and foreign organisms. Afterwards, tell me the largest point of of the viruses that are currently spawning in the area within a four block radius." After a split second of keeping track of all the potentially infected people in the area, Arthur was able to get back the results of the sweep from his A.I. "38.4% of the people in this area have been infected by an unknown virus. It appears to be of alien origin."

"That's what I thought. I don't know of any parasite native to this planet that is capable of bonding to a host within this time frame." Right now, his main focus was getting everyone who was not infected out of this area, he needed to focus on keeping this virus in a localized space. However, there was still the issue of dealing with these parasites themselves, weren't going to set aside their current activities in order to accommodate his wishes. Arthur thought for a moment as to how he was going to deal with this threat, this wasn't something that his suit had the current capability do dealing with on its own. Before he could think of something, he got an incoming alert from Spyder who was calling not to far away from his own location. "And the prodigal son returns."

Setting aside his mild annoyance, he listened to Spyder as he told Arthur his plan of how they were going to deal with the the alien life that was infecting the citizens in the area. By the time that Reggie was finished, even Arthur had to agree that The Arachnid was a genius in their own right. "Good plan kid. Work on keeping them within an enclosed area, I want to see those parasites trapped in a maze. Keep track of where they are coming from and make sure that they don't leave their location, I'll come around soon and clean up afterwards. Stay vigilant and try not to die." Arthur flew up about 65 feet into the air and had rocketed and fired down onto parasites that he saw wiggling their way through the neighbourhood, making sure that there was nothing left for them to grow back from.

He flew around rescuing civilians and taking out and parasites that were unlucky enough to be picked up by his radar making great haste while doing so. Once he had some time, he scanned the area and in an attempt to see where any fellow heroes could be located amongst all of the chaos that had ensued in such a short amount of time. There appeared to be several people in the area who were more than likely to be involved in the fight against these creatures. "There seems to be more than one non-civilian in the area. Should I contact them?", MAT asked in his low and but rich tone of voice. "I supp-" Arthur was cut off by the incoming transmission from Spyder. He listened to his question diligently and was about to answer and he heard gunshots on the other end of the line. "Kid, I'm coming!", Arthur said. "I thought I told him not to die!"

@__hawk__: @maya_summers:

@arceus_aurelius-rex: @mister_surreal@blubber@nordok@teelara

Superion beams in via teleportation technology inside the perimeter of the bubble surrounding the area. He barks orders immediately, like a seasoned commander, "Green Sentinel, Zephyr, Apex, Warrior Angel, establish a perimeter. I want shelters built, then reinforced by Green Sentinel's power ring. Begin evacuating any civilians you find and bringing them to those structures. Arceus, those weapons can be best used for defending those structures so the civilians are kept safe but put a few around this whole area if you have some extra to spare."

As for the others, Superion issues orders, "Everyone else, let's find out more about what is happening and put an end to it."

Superion looks around and sees others involved. Some he recognizes from the news, others he does not.

(OOC: Short, sorry. I'll try and write longer posts in the future).

They are here now. Struggling with the squirming masses below me. They are fearless. Masked vigilantes abound, some armored in steel and technology, others in agility, wit or skill. It matters little. Those destined to fall will fall, and there are many such souls here this day.

Among their number, at least half a dozen stand out as being beyond the pale, as greater than the common man. They are the ones the master spoke of. They are the ones I was born to destroy.

I take that final step, the plunge into the dark sphere of the master's horsemen, and relish in the cold dark before the familiar heat of battle overwhelms me. Show me, oh Black Marauder, show me what true power is, that I might spread your gospel to these unbelievers.

A human-like form, wild in its imitation of man, sloppy and crude, pierced the domed greenery so carefully constructed by the immortal Feerl, the black, oozing welt from which he emerged rotting away as the Ichor took its toll on ally and enemy alike. Bones spiked out from its knees as it landed, its joints shattering as tibia poked through patella, forcing black blood to ooze through the wounds for fractions of a second before the twisted tendons and muscles within popped the pieces back into place. He might have screamed, had his jaw not been fused shut when it was reconfigured into a form more fitting of the Dark One's general. Still, he pain in his body was only temporary, that in his mind eternal, only ceasing in the brief moments during which he served his master. So serve he would.

From his back he detached the blade, the enormous cleaver sticking with lines of sticky black ooze until finally they all gave way at once, the ichor releasing itself to the will of the universe's reaper.

The choice of targets were many, and the satisfaction he anticipated with each elimination grew. Subjugation was the goal, and that was best done by tearing down the greatest of heroes first. He moved to do so, approaching the red and blue mass barking orders above the city.

Seizing the blade in both hands, he made cleaved his way through men and women, Deckos and Ichor born fiends. All matter that impeded him was cut down and tossed aside, his mind focused on a singular goal that did not belong to him, but was forced into his brain by the slaver he happily served.

When at last he was in leaping distance, still a good ways away, he readied himself, drawing the ever-sharp but clumsy blade to his side, he tightened the muscles in his legs, positioned in a low crouch to store the maximum amount of force possible for the coming attack, and then leapt at the earth's iconic hero.

The thunderous sonic boom that followed pushed away the piles of corpses he had built in his venture across the battlefield, black ichor shedding in great globules from his speeding form as the black blur shot across the air. When finally it reached Superion, the Shadow's Shade, Yami no In'ei, drew the blade from one side of his body to the next, positioning the edge to cleave through the thinnest portion of the hero's torso, to separate the his body at the waist. But he knew that Superion, as the symbol of justice in the world, would not die so easily. As soon as he sliced past, In'ei bounded from the cement and steel skeleton of a building under construction, the force knocking free chunks of concrete that scattered to the ground below as once again his bones cracked and snapped beneath the force before rapidly coming back together.

Once more, he shot through the air, this time seeking to cleave his assigned foe vertically down the center, from head to wherever his torso ended then. There was little time to actually see Superion. At those speeds all was a mass of color, with the only marker of success being the stains upon his blade.

While the general screamed into the fray, the ichor continued to coalesce. The mass of nerves and muscle seized from their victims making them faster to react, whip-like in speed and fervor. The slugs, content once to hi-jack the central nervous systems of their hosts, began to crave something closer to completion. They cannibalized the ones they possessed, incorporating stringy masses of muscle and stitching them together into massive lines of psuedo-biological structure, forming a creature blackened by decay but monstrous in proportion.

Glowing clusters of nerves shot up with electrical impulses passed further down into the "body" of these things, each shift in in mass creating a vast shedding of tainted flesh that rained on those around them. Soon the black, ichor creatures took notice of this grand structure, born of their brethren, and sought to converge upon it, to become one with the rot that would soon grasp the city.

Their frenzy became more controlled, more deliberate, the hive mind of the Unvoid having a voice on earth at last, albeit one that spoke in only whispers.

Armor and Arachnids

@somebody_@cutting_edge

Hitherto unseen behavior began to come into being for the Ichor Born, their limbs grasped at rock and metal, throwing heaving chunks into those that resisted. Simple projectiles began to cleave through the air at frightening speeds, at the armored wanderer and the web-slinger particularly, as they remained out of the reach of all but the largest and clumsiest of muscular amalgamations. They sought to tear them from the skies, to sink them into the plague-pits of surging slugs and muscular limbs born from nothing but hate and bloodlust. There they would seek to pierce them, constrict about them and bite into armor and flesh with enamel beaks, to surge their own structures into the bodies of the would-be heroes and take their flesh for their own, as they had to so many before them.

Tempting Death

@__hawk__

All around the swordsman burning bodies and puddles of flesh fell and then rose again, the rotting slugs seeking desperately to find a host to free them of their temporary reprieve from death, to grant them a life beyond one lived in hours. The did not know intention, only instinct. Their instinct led directly to the former warrior. They craved the strong flesh on his bones, the honed and hardened husk he occupied a tempting prize to beings only smart enough to know that death came soon.

At first they simply lunged, easy to kill as they threw themselves blindly at the swordsman, but as the great black structure of weaving black muscle grew its enormous bulbs, they began to shift and writhe, their wills overwritten by that of the Unvoid. They retreated, gathering into masses of Molded slugs and binding together their congruent nervous systems and muscles, the final fusion taking on a distinctly humanoid appearance.

They grew more coordinated, each circling in and lunging in an effort to force an opening, attempting to tie up the swordsman with the sheer amount of flesh he would be forced to cleave through as they approached. They swarmed him together, their limbs grasping desperately at him as they attempted to hold him for the others in their number, who sought a quick end by assimilation or consumption.

The masses of enamel beaks brought forth by individual slugs lined themselves in rows in the Molded's mouths, teeth sharpened with the purpose of slicing skin and allowing entry to muscle and nerve sought now to gnash the flesh into manageable clumps, to steal his ability through the simple and efficient manner of ripping the pieces away.

Wrath of the Dead Gods

@maya_summers

The goddess was readily identified by the myriad monsters in Dehli, and whatever creature she approached, if touched by the ichor, writhed in impatient agitation. The title she bore alone rose their ire, the status she received as a being beyond the limits of their universe drawing from them the false belief that she too, was a god born of an inverse universe. Where her light shone chaos followed; masses of clumped muscle lashed out with insane fervor, and broke themselves her shield. Whips of tendrils attempted to swat her from the sky, and shards of bone, the waste product of the Ichor's conquest, flung themselves against the barriers she erected.

Where she went, the fighting grew in intensity and passion, the defenseless marked her coming not only in the number she saved but in the number who died as the activity of ichor surged around her. Soon her glowing orb was pursued by an ever-growling, ever-growing black mass of flesh blanketing the area, swallowing people whole and weaponizing their flesh.

The spire of flesh in the city's center directed a pulsing yellow postule in the direction of the one meant to provide solace, and denied it. The creatures followed her in a frenzy of black bloodlust, throwing themselves upon her in suicidal strikes meant to break, if not her shields, then at least her will.

They would strike down the false goddess and she would join their number, just another forgotten god in the mass of swirling hate that was the Unvoid.

Broken Silence

@yazhun_sanvun

The creatures conglomerated into new things, deathly coordinated but striking with fury reminiscent of untamed animals. They surrounded groups of men and women, corralled them into pockets for ease of slaughter, and caught the blood between gnashing fangs and enamel speartips. Nerves, like wire spooled within the slugs, shot into the bodies of their victims and immediately hijacked the central nervous system of those struck. Their bodies forgot to breathe, their hearts ceased to beat for those few crucial seconds, and then the person was gone. Left were the ravenous horde, the ichorborn, in their place.

It was this horde that came for the obvious target, the man who highlighted himself, involuntarily, in any given situation. The ichorborn, while blind as slugs, were all too eager to use the seized gift of sight to hunt more prey, to make the jobs of their brethren all the easier.

They swarmed, like rats, after the fleeing couple, the scent and sight of a more-than-mortal body making for a tempting prize. A vessel superior to all their brothers and sisters, a body that would grant some greater glory, some distinction to separate them from their faceless kin? The ichorborn were not above such vanities.

The molded, those creatures born of a thousand slugs set to die, struck first. The muscle in one arm spooled out like rope, slack and naturally weighted with the extra mass of a disfigured hand at its end, and whipped at the legs of the fleeing couple, an attempt to entangle and grapple at once, an attempt to reel in its prey and regurgitate the thousands of frayed nerve endings into a host which would preserve its own life by granting theirs.

But this was not the only one who sought the polar prince's flesh. No. Dozens of slugs eagerly slithered upon the ground around him in every direction, coating the city's pavement like a wriggling carpet of corpses, standing on end when they felt his approach, coiling their bodies to spring upon his approach. They leapt up to meet him at every angle, throwing their worthless lives away in an attempt to steal his body for themselves.

He was a prize, one the vain among the ichor could not resist.

: @ichorborn: It was a great scene one that if Gen had still been there to watch would have brought a wide and sickening grin to his cold dark features, but he was in another place for the moment. In his stead were the Ichor and the Born who was his prized creation, along with him was the man once known as Red Eye yet now he bore no name or yet if he did it was not of an importance to the great Death that was Gen Esis.

Now it was up to his Riders to show the world of what Darkchild could create and unleash upon the world, and they would be remembered for decades no eons as the first he sends to lay waste to any world he chose to set his eyes upon

Tin Can's Crush Beneath Weight

@cutting_edge@somebody_

"Aww the pretty birdies have decided to descend into the fray....food." Gon was a simple creature he was the bare definition of Brawn over Brains, and he needed no brains to do exactly what he was born to do...destroy and eat. Even if Gen had never came upon his planet he would have laid waste to the entire planet within a single year. His brute strength allowed him many things and one in particular was to be an immovable object once he set into motion. And he had begun his slow way towards the two armored heroes who had broken just like he did through the vegetation like a rock and as they came down they created ripples that ripped through the entire field. All forms of disgusting creatures surged through the black massess as they unloaded all kinds of ammunition into them, with each Ichor and Decko they felled another was replaced and behind the fallen. n

But Gon needed no help from the Ichor or any that came to attack, swashing a large axe through the mass of black goohe swung with such force that a air current blew any that were still in his path to the sides. Breathing in deep he roared loud as bullets richocheted off his armor and he made his way towards them first a slow trot then into a full run, swinging once in an attempt to bifurcate the one that resembled a man who had decided a insignificant spider would induce fear into those he wished to fight.

Slide the Blade Between the Ribs

@superion_prime

Yoshimi watched as the chaos ensued below knowing that he was not fated for a ground attack, that his skills were to be used for any that decided to attack from the skies and soon one arrived in a flurry of red and blue, he hovered and barked orders not a hundred yards from Yoshimi. Bold was not even close to this creatures unabashed ignorance of his presence, Fury raged within Yoshimi as he reached to his side and pulled out a vial that he crushed in his hands, as it burst a mist began to circulate around his person and swirled all around him like a cloud of thinking smoke, moving with every twitch of his body. It was something of his own creation, something he produced from his body and bottled. Once a creature was exposed to the mist along with his own flight or flight secretion would send the victim into a fit of pure fear, as the cloud swirled around him he moved with blinding speed beat only by a fraction of a second by his masters newest slave.

The new slaves blade swung fast and hard in hopes of cutting the hero in two, but Yoshimi would not allow this new creature to get all the fun in turning this hero into a screaming pile of blood and gore. As the creature attacked Yoshimi circled around the hero creating a vortex of the mist all around the new slave and the hero, intermittent with quick attacks at the hero in hopes of cutting deep and allowing for his secretions to seep deep into the heroes body if they touched his skin as he ran around him. As he flew around the two all that could be heard was a maddening giggle as he ran what seemed to be circles around them.

Beauty has its Thorns

@maya_summers

Ferrl had grown bored of watching the peasants die slow agonizing deaths from her plants and the various nasties that now ran rampant through the streets. She walked through the chaos with a gleeful smile beneath her armor, searching for something fun. And soon she would find it in the form of Maya Summers, she came down like a bolt of lightning and slammed into the ground like a rescuer in hopes of saving many, but she had to know that it was futile to try with such force to stop what was coming.

Turning a corner Ferrl was greeted by the lovely and beautiful Maya, without giving her time to react the Goddess of Death flicked her wrists and a surge of plant life burst from the ground and shot like a burst of shotgun pellets in a mass of green. Soon the sand beneath their feet was bleached with crimson red as those she had been trying to save were skewered on thorn covered vines and hung in the air above Maya as if mocking her attempts at saving those still alive and not turned by the Ichor "Poor ting, were those yours? Don't worry I have plenty of friends for you to play with, we don't need to play with the food." as she spoke calling the dead food they were swallowed whole by the vines as she smiled wide.

Burn the Feathers

@__hawk__

Unoon watched as a mass of creatures massed into a singular creature one of mashing teeth and speed. It attacked the last of those to arrive, a winged creature that seemed to have seen many battles not unlike that of todays atrocities. Unoon had grown bored of those he had met at the gate and ate what was still alive and left the gate opened. Hoping more would show to quench his never ending hunger, his armor now only a chest plate as he had grown bored of sitting in such a sardine can. Slithering in a mass of green goop he moved with speed unlike that of a snake closer to the fight. Sliding up a building and watching as the Molded mass of flesh attacked the flying hero. He had hoped that the hero would be done with the ichor mass quickly so that he could burn the feathers off his flesh and feast upon his flesh as it along with those he had swallowed earlier slowly dissolve within his body.,

Chaos Untamed

@yazhun_sanvun

As the streets ran awry with the dead and dying the last of those to survive the initial assault made their way through the allyways of the bazaar. One had the power to end it all and even rival that of their masters. But he couldnt do anything too much at the moment as he was not quite recovered, but this did not bother that who hid in the shadows waiting for the exact moment to make his prescence known.

As the two made another turn they were greeted by the man no the near god who had inititated the entire days actions. Gen Esis stepped out from a portal within the shadows and spoke "Good evening Sanvun....I had to make sure you were who I believed you to be....you are my undoing if I was to let you escape this day, you remind me of an old friend of mine. He had the irritating ability to get between my guard and my mind and slice deep into what lied beneath my armor. So I decided to just squash any chance at you biting me, I have seen much of what you have done in the last few weeks and months and I have one question....."

@superion_prime@wild_cat@mister_surreal@shield-maiden@paragonxxx

As always Blubber was in a rush, to start his first official mission. So much that he failed to notice something was off with Superion. The once charismatic, honor bound, protector of the week now remained hidden in the shadows. He answered back with one word answers avoiding any and everything pertaining to a mission. That is why when Blubber elegantly begged him to allow Wild Cat to be his personal mentor, his only response was, “...SURE...” But even that was spoken without any of the inflection in Superion’s tone, and in fact came off disturbing even to Blubber. Even the man’s frame appeared hunched over, rather than the way he always stood tall. But were it not for the fact Blubber could see a glimmer of light shining upon his trade mark ‘S’ he trusted him completely, dismissing his unique habits as part of the icons natural way in preparation for such a dangerous mission. That is why in every awkward case or scenario presented by the off putting hero, Blubber replied back to everything, “Yes Sir Mr. Superion! You’re the Boss!” Unfortunately, at this point Blubber was oblivious to how the others in the room were handling this strange anomaly, and instead put everything he had into beginning his mission, naturally assuming that Wild Cat and Shield Maiden did the same. So despite their actions he proudly stood upon the transporter eager to go. But in accordance with the plan he made with whom he thought was Superion, the deal was Ted needed to go with him. That is why with great joy, he stretched out his arm long enough to grab hold of the aged boxer and pull him on board the transporter with him. If successful he would turn that grasp into a full on hug after which he would say, “I’m so happy Wild Cat, (he weeps with tears of joy) I’m gonna be a full fledged member of the J.L.A.!!"

But before anyone could say or do anything else, the fake representation of Superion acted. With but a simple push of a big red button, he activated the transporter, followed by a low level grunt, “Hmm!” Immediately, Blubber giggled as a bright glow enveloped all six hundred pounds of him, mixed with a pleasing and calming hum. Within seconds his body began to disappear, fading away into nothing, until all that was left was his trade mark smile. But whether or not he was alone on the transporter or accompanied by Wild Cat, shortly after his smile was gone, so did his giggles of joy. But suddenly, his overzealous devil make care happiness was wiped away, as he opened his eyes to nothing but open sky. Somehow, something went terribly wrong with the teleportation directional guidance, leaving Grant reappearing helpless, high up in the sky, miles away from the real Superion’s coordinates. Immediately, he screamed in fear, “HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE GOD, HELP! I CAN’T FLY” as he flapped his arms up and down in hope. Despite how silly it looked for a six hundred pound man flapping his arms like a bird, he was falling as fast as a dead duck. For once in his life he was generally scared to death, unable to think clearly. For with every, increasing moment, he was falling closer and closer to his death.

By now he was nothing more than a tiny comet, seconds away from beginning to burn up in the atmosphere, falling at an exponential rate. Never before had Blubber been put in this type of situation or with knowledge if he could even survive. But somewhere, deep inside of him, he found his hidden confidence as opposed to the quivering pile of mass he was. With seconds left before his demise, he knew he needed to do the one thing that was natural to a real hero, but unable for him to do, he needed to.....fly. For in his limited little world it was the one aspect his favorite heroes like Superion possessed and the one aspect he truly desired. With no time to waste, he began morphing the fatty area around his back to the point it began wiggling and jiggling in a wave like motion, until it began to grow in size. It then sprouted outwards on both sides like two beautiful dragon wings, perfectly proportional for his unique shape and size. Now going on pure hope, his face takes on a serious tone, desperately trying to hide his genuine fear, he begins flapping his wings back and forth in a massive display of power, until he learned, it was all a waste of time. For no matter how fast he flapped them or how large he made them, the simple fact was, his wings could not lift his massive frame. In the end all they did was postpone the inevitable as he continued plummeting down, this time with genuine fear in his eyes. All he could do now was scream even louder, “Somebody Save Me Pleaseeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!” as the hard ground of Delhi kept closing in, ever faster!

@ichorborn: @darkchild: @blubber: @arceus_aurelius-rex: @mister_surreal@@nordok@teelara

Not one, but two attackers have come for Superion. Both attempting to turn him into mince meat with their weapons. And, at first, it looks like they have succeeded as the Man of Steel looks like he's bleeding. But suddenly, his form glows bright and explodes in a shower of sparks.

Thanks to Tarquasm Vo, Superion created an illusion of himself to gain a tactical advantage. But now that the illusion has been destroyed, the real Superion shows himself with fists clenched and heat roiling off his eyes like a furnace. He unleashes that heat in the form of heat bolts, much like you see in Star Wars, at both his would be attackers in an attempt to not only wound them but melt/destroy their weapons.

In the meantime, Green Sentinel, who is running support, creates a ginormous green glowing construct of a trampoline under Blubber in order to catch the oversized hero. He gives Blubber a thumbs up, if he's succeeded, and goes back to saving civilians.

(OOC: Short and sweet).