No...Ven's just challenged in the head XD. And I didn't have to challenge you. I just loved pissing her off lmaooo it was so much fun XD
Locale: Anonymous (CVnU thread)
@lamartheslayer: The epitome of chaotic neutral.
@arquitenens said:
@soliton: Abigail squinted, head cocked slightly as she tried to work through what exactly Amani was saying, fighting the instinctive urge to pull back in her confusion, and an ambivalent rejection of everything Amani just said. As long as she'd been at it, still Abby could hardly get a pulse on how she herself felt. Once upon a time she'd have accepted it as truth. But that last encounter with Ivana...
Just one more way the veteran heroine had been ruined by her worst foes. Reality was cold. But she needn't be, not to a child. So she fought against the irritation of the spirit inside her and didn't offer a direct retort. "Who is 'them,' Amani? Mutants? Criminals? Were you hurt? Did you hurt someone?"
Why is it different?
Her fist clenched and her gaze had lingered away from Abby's own. The way she saw it, her anger wasn't towards her as it was more so towards some abstract fact. Angry at reality and the way the world really seemed to be. Abby pressed and pressed, so she let it go for now. Amani was the one with a whole lot of questions to answer. Not Abby.
“I did get hurt a few times. I got shot once." She held her hand over her side, and contemplated briefly saying "I deserve it." But something felt wrong about saying that. As though she wanted pity, rather than resolution. To make some kind of sense out of the way she feels. The best she could do was get to the point and speak unambiguously.
She took a deep breath.
"...But I'm here, so that doesn't matter. There was one thing, where I did hurt someone. Undeniably. Blew hos arm off, because I panicked when he shot me." She'd come to understand herself, the nature of her power. It was like a muscle and was at least partially governed by emotion. Like how a person blinks in the face of a fist or flinches to get out of the way. The ambient cacklingnof electricity, like adrenaline surgong through the muscle. "And there was another time. I had the bracelet on and there was a news interview. The lady did me a favor and kept my identity anonymous but, a bunch of people gathered around me asking me questions and then they all dropped. I tried to save all of them but I couldn't."
The word rattled out almost robotically. Instinctively. It was as thought that, she had known all this time what it was she wanted to say.
"I found this." She took out a small, burnt device. "I at least got Elliot to look at it. He told me that it's some kind of powerful electric device. Like an electric bomb."
She sighes and puts the remains of the device in her pocket.
She looks down, knowing what she wants to say, but not saying it. There is a cloud there, blocking her mind. She takes a deep breath, and exhales it from her mouth.
"Abby..." Word comes clear as day. "I thought I could be like you, but I realized I can't be. Maybe I could, with years of practice. But how many lives would that cost? I don't wanna be a superhero anymore. Not like you are. I wanna do something different. Maybe, be able to save lives, like I did before...but it feels like, everywhere I go, no matter what I do, people die. I could be walking in the street as I was and....people die."
Shoulders slump, and the words stop as she looks down, defeated.
"I don't know what to do."
The ice cream she had ordered has long melted into a thick milk.
Outer Space
Clouds of cosmic dust stretched across the blackness of space like strokes of paint on a canvas. In the distance, some stars twinkled as they did in the night skies of planets, and others perished in the brightest spectacles known to man. Racing through space like a hurricane - a solar wind blown by a sun - the Blue Eagle left violent streaks of anti-protons in it's wake. Piloting it as he patrolled the Solar System's cosmic neighborhood for glimpses of an Imperium invasion, Achilles' face caught the cool glow of a holographic screen.
||-Alert. Unidentified high-energy body in close proximity-||, the measured monotone of a V.I. (Virtual Intelligence) warned. "Unidentified?", the American God murmured, brow raised with curiosity. "Deploy the probes", Achilles commanded. Daring not heed it's creator's words, the V.I. deployed a flock of nano-probes. Soaring close, the nano-probes glimpsed at the flaming light of something barreling through space like a rogue star. Their gazes held and their sensors studied while Achilles awaited an answer, his curiosity rising the longer nothing was said.
The nano-probes swept through every scan till all but two gave them the answer that the American God so desperately sought. The thermographic scan identified heat emitted from organs, from fluid flow, and the bio-electric scan identified electric flares from muscle fibers. The "unidentified high-energy body" so-called - was a living thing. A person. But was it friend or foe? Achilles could only wonder as he blinked the Blue Eagle's lights, flaring them at five second intervals as an invitation for them to board the ship.
The rhythmic strobe of the Blue Eagle's lights gave color to the black void of space, yet in doing so it drew the ire of a being of fantastic power. ||-Sir, the unidentified body is accelerating towards the vessel with rising energy levels-||, a V.I. warned, it's voice reaching Achilles' ear with an urgency it did not often display. "Right", the American God noted, surrendering control of the ship to the V.I. Rising from his seat, Achilles rolled his armored shoulders loose and strode towards the airlock. "Don't retaliate just yet. Maybe blinking lights at five second intervals is a threat instead of a signal in that alien's culture".
With the Mind Lavaliere in his possession, the American God abandoned the heart of his ship for the cold of the cosmos. A demigod who need not breathe to survive, Achilles soared free by telekinetic flight made possible by the Mind Lavaliere. His super-sight pierced through the folds of space-time, and he glimpsed at the alien racing towards him. It was a woman, with flaming hair and energy crackling round her eyes and hands like a firestorm. They were not of the same world, and unbeknownst to the American God - not of the same universe.
So, Achilles reached out to her in a language known to all things sentient; telepathy. A psychic breeze flowed calm and gentle from the Mind Lavaliere, and from it, the American God's thoughts echoed to the alien's mind, if she would receive them.
My name is Achilles, and I'm not your enemy, his thoughts declared.
I saw you floating here in space, alone.
Do you need help? I can fly you back to your homeworld if you'd like.
I have a ship you can rest in.
Inside the Blue Eagle, the air flowed warmer, and the cool grey and brilliant white seemed a luxury compared to the boundless dark of space. Lifting the helmet from his head, the gold of Achilles' hair stood in contrast to the blue of his eyes. "You're very understanding, Candis", he noted, offering her a seat next to his, "Not too many people are. And that's either down to who you are as a person, or the culture that raised you, both of which are good". Setting his helmet aside, the American God waved a hand through the air, and a holographic screen came strobing into view.
"Conversation isn't too hard, my friend. You just let your heart speak what it wants"
Her words and soul were one. What the soul felt, Candis' words expressed, like a painter bringing his passion to life with each stroke of his brush. But for Achilles, things were not as simple. As easy. "I wasn't raised to let my heart speak what it wants. I've never had friends nor any kind of social relationship for that matter. My life's been dominated by one thing and one thing only; duty". Indeed, for Achilles' father and mentor was Thee Champion, a miracle god born from the chaotic fluctuations of entropy in reality. A figure who once stood for hope and justice, but gradually fell to the moral distance of godhood.
Achilles was made his heir, his successor. He was taught a warrior's ways, and given a hero's heart. "Outside of defending my planet and my people, I don't really do much else". With a flick of the wrist, Achilles shaped the holographic screen into a three-dimensional hologram, one that best showcased the best and worst of Earth and it's people. Humanity's greatest cities, achievements and discoveries, and man's greatest shames and evils, against both his world and himself. "The people from my planet don't hold a candle to yours", he smiled, calmly, eyes meeting hers with a subtle glint of humor, "They worshiped the sky more than made songs to change it's color".
"They're different. They're not like you, or even me for that matter. Physically, they're weaker. They're not... you", he paused, holding her gaze as though she were a star in the night sky, "You're like starlight given physical form. Beautiful and otherworldly. You resemble more a sun goddess the people of Earth would've worshiped in ancient times. And they can't do the things you do. Survive in outer space? Fly? Project energy? It's very rare", Achilles revealed, recalling the subtle surge of strength felt from her touch.
"They look more like me, but barring a few mutants and exceptional people, they can't do the things you and I do. And of the ones who can, even fewer can do those things to the same extent that you and I can", he was - after all - a demigod among men. "What the people of Earth lack in strength to lift mountains, they make up for in strength of character. A resilience to understand that when one feels small, it just means that there's so much more to discover and wonder about. They're weaker than your people, I imagine, and not as beautiful. But remarkable in their own way".
"As for what the people of Earth - humans - value. It's memory. Few things matter more to humans than the past. Because only in knowing the past variables that led to an outcome, can we make computations about the future. We learn from our past mistakes to make better decisions in the future. And humans value that more than almost anything. But more than that, they study the past because they romanticize it. They want to preserve the memory of things that were and no longer are".
"To preserve the memory of people who are no longer alive, to preserve an artifact from a civilization that no longer exists, to continue traditions that have no practical benefit but to link people to their memories of places, things, people, whatever they're fond of".
"So if you ask me, which you did", Achilles laughed, now assuming control of the Blue Eagle, "I'd say, humans value memory. Because the greatest human fear is to be forgotten".
"You told me your people value beauty and love. But what was their dream? What's your dream? Because the human has always been, and still is, exploring the unknown".
Achilles' mind and soul were joined in silent song. Together, they marched to the beat of duty, heroic and otherwise. Yet as Candis spoke with a calming wisdom, the American God's certainty in the values that drove - unraveled. Perhaps it was as Candis believed, that it was love that spurred him to raise his shield in defense of others. After all, does a hero not love his people? His home, adoptive or native? Meeting Candis' eyes as the holographic glow of human history stroked their faces, Achilles felt the steel soften in his face. "You're very wise, Candis", he smiled, soon standing to his feet.
"Come with me", he insisted, "You'll have a better view of the stars from the chair upfront next to the pilot seat". Easing back into the pilot's seat, Achilles wrapped his hands round the controls that handed him mastery of the ship. All about them, the transparency of shielded glass welcomed the twinkling light of faraway stars. Galaxies spiraled in the distance, renegade stars raced about the cosmos, and nebulae glimmered with gases, cosmic dust and all that which will one day be stars new and different. "There was once a human philosopher, Ayn Rand. She died years ago, but her work is still controversial to this day. And my father made it a point for me learn about her teachings".
"Ayn Rand's philosophy is an attack on altruism, on the notion that we're all born with a preexisting moral debt to one another. She argued that doing good, that living for others because of a preexisting moral contract, is not true goodness. Because if you're taught that people must live for the sake of others, then not only are you expected to live your life for others, but you then come to expect others to live for you", he paused, guiding the Blue Eagle through a gleaming sea of cosmic dust, "Something Ayn Rand argued to be inherently selfish. That it was not true goodness, it wasn't coming from the heart. It was coming from the teaching that you must love anyone and everyone".
"Even if it's not true in your heart".
"My father had me read this so that I'm under no illusion of what I'm doing", he continued. "I was mentored by him, raised to be a defender and protector of the people, but I wasn't told that this was my only purpose, that I must do this", it's why Achilles' sibling - Orion, the 9th Wonder - roams the stars ready to step in should Achilles step out. Why Thee Champion chose the American God as his heir? Because his sense of duty stems from his passion, his love for Earth and it's people. "Duty was instilled in me, but I can choose to do other things. I can choose to find a different planet, and live an easier life. But I honor my duty and continue to do what I do because it's what I feel in my heart".
"I follow my duty out of love for the people and world I protect". For a moment, he chuckled, his smile reserved but true, "I guess I should thank you, for helping me speak from the heart more. Because it seems we now share the same dream".
"We arrive soon".
Power begets power...
The planet above which Nodok, the last of the Ancients hovered had no name in any tongue. It was a barren world, unknown to most and utterly ignored by the few who were aware that it floated through the void. It was, in fact, a planet that the Ancient One himself would be inclined to dismiss out of hand, except that weeks of divination by his Shadow Brethren had identified it as the current resting place of the immeasurably powerful cosmic artifact know as the Power Lavaliere.
The mystery of how it had come to rest here was not one which Nordok considered worth pondering; the universe itself had a tendency to ensure such weapons wound up in locations that would test the worth of those who sought to wield them, and this case was no different. The planet itself was solid rock from core to crust, with a coating of several miles of solid ice that may as well have been rock itself, and the Lavaliere was entombed at its very center. The being of cosmic horror was very nearly inclined to grin at how fitting it was; only those who were already powerful could even attempt to capture this stone of power.
There was nothing to be proven by idle pondering, however. Even as the world had presented him with his challenge, it had also given him the key to his success: a sizable moon orbited the lifeless world, the two locked in an eternal dance through the frigid expanses of space. Eternal...until now.
As his baleful gaze settled on the satellite, the Lord of the Abyssal Imperium extended his hand, and the moon itself shuddered. Exerting his potent and malevolent will, Nordok bound the orbiting body in telekinetic shackles and began to drag it from its orbit. His brow furrowed in concentration and his hand closed into a fist, and with a gesture not unlike that of throwing a punch towards the planet beneath him, he hurled one celestial body into another, with catastrophic results for both.
As the moon shattered the planet's surface, the Ancient One again stretched forth his irresistible consciousness and capitalized on the weakening of the world's very structure, ripping it apart as though it were an overripe melon.
Once this ruin was completed, it was then a simple matter of detecting the only object in the newly-created debris field that emitted any significant power, and calling it to his hand. In moments, the Power Lavaliere rested in his palm, the small stone seeming so innocuous when one was aware of its nigh-infinite potency.
There remained only one step. Other possessors of a Power Lavaliere might wear it in a pendant or ring, or even create a fixture of their armor designed to accommodate it. Nordok, however, had no patience for such a gaudy display, and one that left the treasure exposed as a temptation for any thief. Exerting his massive telekinetic power once more, he ripped open the torso of the constructed avatar in which his vile essence resided, placing the Lavaliere where such a body would normally store its heart. The traumatic aperture was then sealed up as it was formed, and in another moment, the Ancient One's body was as it had been before.
If his physical form seemed unchanged, however, the opposite was true of his actual being; the swirling morass of dark energy that comprised his true self. His already-considerable mastery of energies now magnified to virtual infinity, It was now that ultimate purpose of his quest for the Power Lavaliere was revealed.
Nordok was the last of the Ancients only insofar as conscious activity was concerned. In the birth of the universe, a number of these vast beings had been brought into existence, each discovering and developing their own affinity for the various forms of energy that comprised the very lifeblood of the cosmos. After countless millennia of battling their nihilistic brother for the fate of existence, nearly all of them had scattered their essence and allowed their consciousness to slip into torpor, either judging the conflict to be futile or too great a risk to the fragile stirrings of life that were taking root on a number of worlds.
Now, before they could awaken to this sudden and renewed threat, it was too late; their energy and their essence were now under the iron-clad control of the darkest among them. Nordok was no longer the last of the Ancients; he was now the entirety of the Ancients.
And he hungered.
Gothic City, 12:40pm
"Believe it or not," droned the Whale of Whitewood, his somber baritone voice laid against a backdrop of soft jazz, "I admire you, Katherine. With or without your abilities, what you did took a lot of courage." And dumb luck, he thought, not entirely derisively. Business ventures--entire lives, quite often the entirety of it--were made on luck. "Smart" and "dumb," as most people thought them, were constructs, only ever determined by outcomes. Not exactly fair, but the absence of fairness was nothing to complain about.
He understood her position. Likely, the Beremud woman had always intended to turn the interview hostile--just as Katie had, attempting to lower her guard before springing the more accusatory questions from her notebook. "I know your story and I've been looking forward to meeting you, albeit under different circumstances. Know this: I'm not angry—But..."
"But" what, he didn't say, and after a minute passed in silence Katie gathered he'd only made the verbal addendum to make it clear he wasn't exactly on her side either. He's on hers, she thought spitefully. Walter Hughes was and always would be on her mother's side. It was her mother's request he send her to that school, and it was a favor to her mother that he'd agreed to meet with Elsa Beremud to clear up the mess Katie made. Not that she could complain too much; that was, after all, what she wanted.
For the rest of the ride the only sounds that filled the cabin were the tunes cycling through the radio and the tik-tik-tik from the bodyguard beside her. Twice Katie'd accidentally met Hughes's eyes while attempting to catch a direct glimpse of him, but each time found him looking directly at her in silence. She gave a start and shifted her focus down at her hands, but the weight of his constant stare never lifted from her. As large as he was, the presence cast by the self-made debt dealer made him seem much larger, so that even the super soldier occupying the same space was little more than an afterthought.
This was by design. Like a shadow Arthur almost never moved unless Walter himself were moving, almost always confined to the periphery, and spoke even more rarely. But when the extra large limousine pulled to a halt and the door opened the Neo-Juggernaut stepped out first, signalling for Katie, who'd already begun to move for the exit, to stay put. Several silent moments passed and he stuck his head inside, waved Walter on, and Walter in turn extended a hand to help Katie out of the vehicle. Still moving gingerly as a result of her injuries sustained weeks prior, she had little choice to accept aid as it was offered.
The Proto-Sapien and his partner surveyed the grounds as they walked the path leading to the home. Nodding here, frowning there, once or twice turning his nose as though smelling something foul. Approaching the front door, he raised a meaty hammer of a fist and gave a gentle but resounding knock.
They were not kept waiting long. Within the span of a few long breaths, the heavy front doors swung ponderously inward and the visitors were greeted by the first sign of life they would have been able to observe since setting foot on the property, although whether or not one counted even this as a sign of life could be considered a matter of some debate, as their greeter was none other than the perpetually emotionless and inexpressive Silas, whom Katie may very well remember from the night of the interview.
If the dour doorman recognized her, or indeed, any of the arrival, he gave no outward sign. "Welcome to the Alaric Halfway House for Metahumans," he intoned in his usual flat voice, his tone, or rather the almost complete lack thereof, seeming anything but welcoming. "Are you seeking accommodations, or do you have other business?"
Deeper withing the labyrinthine interior of the mansion, Elsa Beremud observed all that her assistant saw and heard, his own observations streaming directly to the laptop that sat on her desk. Though she was scarcely more given to displays of emotions than Silas, she allowed the corners of her mouth to curve upward in the slightest of smiles. This was not entirely expected, but it was also not entirely unwelcome...
Hm.
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