The pheromones worked their magic, leading the pack of bloated, rotting corpses to himself. The sounds they were making were terrible, the smell coming off them worse, but Castor had smelled enough rotting corpses in his time to be able to ignore them when fighting. He was unarmed, aside from his bare hands, still bright and blue in the darkness. He'd pulled them away from their march through the Arboretum, but they hadn't come as close to him as he'd thought. If he wanted to get in close and fight, he'd have to move, which would mean pulling them around with him. In his position, they were all inside the blackened area, which meant that the rest of the garden was safe, for now. He'd have to find a way to hold them here, though. Their "Plaguefather" chant wasn't helping his concentration much, until he caught sight of something different on the outer rim of the ring.
It was definitely undead, he'd seen plenty of vampires, even Nosferatu, in his time to recognize that much. It - he - had a blade drawn and was speaking to the biohazards with a degree of understanding most wouldn't have. He intensified the pheromone a little bit, since even though he didn't want to distract the vampire he did need to hold the flesh-things' attention. Considering the presence of a swordsman, though, maybe ACF wouldn't need to let Pollux out of his box for this situation.
"I don't think they're going to leave," he called over the creatures' heads to the strange undead. "But they're not doing anything aggressive, either. Don't attack, we don't know how or whether their condition spreads. Spilling more fluids than they're already dripping could make things worse. For the moment I'm going to try to keep them in one place and figure out what's going on."
"Really? Nicely done Isaac" the mech pilot remarked to one of her coworkers at UNKD. He'd gone out of his way over the night and doubled the amount of turrets they had created. They'd been working on some of the defenses for UNKD and thanks to him they'd doubled the performance rates on gathering the weapons. He seemed to blush and retreat and then another co worker neared her. This older gentleman didn't like dampening the mood but he knew it had to be done. So he shared a monitor screen with Lizzy.
Her initial feeling was rage, she did her best to compose herself however and went for her phone. Putting in the contact data for @kaija@renegade84 and @orange_water. She didn't know if any would be available but it was apart of her nature to try and reach out to those she could. "Mitsuri, zombies, backup? <3" She proceeded to her desk and activated a small device. Ready to do the same with the Sisters Eye for her friends if need be.
Mitsuri
Within seconds the mech had descended upon the scene to provide support for those gathered. The mech hovered just above the grass it's flight path practiced to a point it disturbed barely so much as a flower. Taking to the air was a dozen small drones. The remaining eight were a more vital focus to her if she was to be completely honest but she would do her best to multitask as she always did.
An unknown was on the scene alongside the monster that helped protect Fort Knox during an attack some weeks ago. "Thanks for the assist, specifically drawing them away some." To a more open area and away from the garden she considered a home. She spoke and then not a second later she was on the offensive. Lizzy didn't consider Kaede dead, didn't think her gone, she did however know that this place might need more protection at times with her now as well a tree.
Every shot was calculated, if it missed it'd be a small pop of air and nothing more for the mech pilot dared not to harm the place she held so dear. She was however also not going to hold back here of all places. Killzones opened fire, two hundred rounds a second escaped the barrels. Her drones added three hundred and sixty more, in what was meant to be a vast field of fire to contain as much as possible as quickly as possible. The creatures were diseased rancid things, plagues that probably shouldn't leak out onto the surface. Thus the obvious choice, already a go to of Lizzy's anyway was the slipspace munitions. Each bullet designed to try and drop a target into a alabaster void where they could hopefully do little harm to themselves or others.
The other drones of hers were looking to fire at the soil of Mitsuri touched by the sickly mass of bodies. Looking to remove the corruption. It'd leave ditches and pot holes in the dirt, an idea that stung for the gamer in concept alone. Better holes to fill however then the spreading of a rot throughout the home.
"Really!? How the hell do you always..." She fell silent as her phone went off on the table next to her.
Axum took their cards off the table and began to shuffle as Kaija flipped open her phone and read the text. He raised a single eyebrow as she slumped back into her chair and her shoulders began to sag. He decided not to hand her the deck or deal cards again just yet.
"You know that you can go if you need to. You're not under order to play cards here," he explained, "What's going on, anyways?"
"Zombies are attacking the Arboretum."
"The 'raised by magic' kind or the 'horribly infectious disease' kind?" Axum asked with a surprising amount of calmness.
Kaija simply shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, "I don't know, Lizzy wasn't very descriptive. Usually, best to assume the worst, isn't it?"
"Oh yeah, that is Miss Leet's other home, isn't it?" he asked, rhetorically, "Well gone, get outta here. Go help your friend protect her home."
She got up and started to take her leave, only to stop at the doorway, "I'd like to request for my G.A. to be ported to the Arboretum."
"The Goliath Arms? Don't you think that that's a bit overkill for zombies?"
"I don't know what kinda zombies these are, let alone how many there are. Lizzy literally sent me THREE WORDS" she replied, "I know you don't want me breaking shit unnecessarily, but I'm pretty sure that the person who tinkers with those weapons every week wouldn't mind if they're put to use to, you know, save her home..."
He sighed and waved Kaija off, "They'll be there shortly after you arrive. You're responsible for any damages you cause to the Arboretum."
"Thank you!"
---
A few minutes later, Kaija would arrive, a few dozen meters tall and prepped for war, to find that the zombie hoard had already been met by a respectable amount of opposition. Although she usually knew all of the heroes who responded to these types of things, she only knew one contender there today. The stranger with the oversized sword was a face that she had seen before on the news for his efforts in defending Fort Knox. She knew that he was an enhanced metahuman who liked to bite but, given his presence out here in broad daylight, a vampire was probably the last thing that she would've guessed when it came to his backstory. As for the other stranger, well, he looked almost like he didn't belong here; her first sight of him being him standing a ways away from the congregation of zombies and waving at them. And then there was Gaige.
Kaija wasn't surprised to find the pilot already filling the area with hundreds of slipspace rounds to contain the outbreak, and she doubted that she really needed backup in this situation. Uma may have been the kaiju extermination specialist but, when it came to situations that required crowd control and finesse, Gaige shined in ways that Kaija couldn't hope to. Still, she found a way to make herself helpful in no time.
If all Gaige needed to do was land a shot on these creatures with a round to send them to another dimension and contain them, Kaija would simply work to make her job easier for her. Kaija simply drew her GA: Hammer from her back and began to move about the Arboretum; flattening zombies with relatively gentle strikes from her titanic mallet. Well, gentle compared to how she would've been swinging that thing if she wasn't trying to reduce the amount of damaged that she'd do to the terrain as much as possible.
Even as she worked to pulverize zombies to make them easier to send to slipspace, the very act of Kaija moving around would make the zombies easier targets. For airborne units like Gaige's drones and Mjolnir, earthquakes would have no effect. But, for creatures scrambling about on land, every step that the giant took would look to shake the earth out from underneath them and send them tumbling to the ground helplessly. The quakes from her movements weren't going to cause any of them any damage but, again, that wasn't Kaija's goal.
She just wanted to make the vermin as easy to hit as she could for her friend who was defending her home.
The numbers of the creatures were almost entirely wiped out in mere seconds, the dozens of them reduced to a handful of humanoid shapes standing in place. Their sonorous noise died down with those that practically disappeared into nothing, or smashed into pus-drenched paste. Quivering mounds of decayed flesh and pulped organs were all that was left of most of them, at least in a physical sense. Some simply faded into nothing, pelted by rounds that seemed to chewed them away into distant dimensions.
They continued to cry for the "Plaguefather" however, and soon one last of their masses came from the waters.
Rising to the blackened lakeside, this thing stood a head taller than the rest with crooked antlers jutting out of his head and a knell in hand. The funeral bell chimed once, twice, thrice, and the bubbling surface behind him came to a bursting column of water. In its place came the mountainous girth of what could only be assumed to be the Plaguefather, dwarfing any already assembled to fight his children by order of magnitude. The sheer size of the beast blocked out the sun, but his many-toothed smiled oddly rang of a different tune than anger or wrath.
Instead, he began to laugh.
"Hahahaha! Such misunderstandings my cousins," he began, the volume and weight of the phlegm-soaked words echoing like the pangs of a diseased thunderclap.
"Why fight my children when they desire only to sing and praise their own existence? So sad," he seemed genuinely hurt by their passing, but kept his smile - though it did drop slightly.
"Perhaps we can celebrate the feast together? I do not mind guests."
"No, you idiot, that's a biohazard! Spilling guts and fluids is only going to make it spread more!"
While Castor didn't know that for a fact, it was a huge risk. And while the UNKD glory child Kaija seemed to think she was helping her friend contain the problem - the mecha-driving girl he recognized as Gaige certainly had the right idea, he knew her methods and didn't mind the gunfire so long as the intention was capture rather than destruction - Kaija didn't seem to understand that spilling fluids into the ground would make cleanup that much harder, or breaking through the flesh could release pathogens into the air. He kept his arms lit, holding the attention of whatever remained at the end of the attack. At the same time the bell tolled, something in his ear chirped.
Castor, status report.
Castor paused for a moment to listen to the creature's words. The mic on his communications unit would be sensitive enough to pick up the Plaguefather's statements. He watched the creature, before muttering back, "Biohazard contained, for now, but we have a bigger problem."
What is that?
"Think the biohazard from the report, but kaiju sized." The silence on the other end of the line was almost palpable. It took a moment for Data's voice to pipe up again.
Do you want to request backup?
"If you mean four-oh-four, then no." The King's Spade was firm on that. "It's communicating, which means we might be able to talk to it. I'll try that. If it doesn't work... well, I guess you'll know. Castor out."
His eyes flicked back around the darkened field to his allies. The vampire, the mech pilot, and the kaiju slayer. A tiny, tiny smirk flitted across his features for a moment. Just like old times, eh? A swordsman, a rider, a giant. Good times.
Castor took two steps forward, then stopped. Any of the things still capable of movement would likely follow, leaving the same distance circle around him. The movement of the blue light would also draw some degree of attention to himself. He spoke up above the remaining song, if the noise could actually be called song.
"If I had to guess, you're the Plaguefather. What kind of feast are you talking about?"
Location L-7, present
"Castor, report." They were in the council room for Leviathan staff. SV-1 stood at the head of the table, eyes harsh but not from anger, although he'd just gotten a severe "no" from the Security Council in his request to use his Club in the battle. The man watched the members of his staff present with him almost universally, and sternly. Everyone was present except the three Agents in Bludhaven, and young Mr. Redd. Data relayed Castor's messages. Leviathan didn't seem too pleased, but he nodded understandingly.
"Keep your ears on him, Uptid."
"Sir."
He turned back to the others present. "Cotta, Nein, Papillion, go ahead and check up on Six-Six-Six. Nobody's in there watching it right now, and you know how it gets restless when there's trouble." Nein was the one who nodded and guided Cotta out of the room, followed by Rex down towards Containment Cell E. Everyone knew why Leviathan was sending the kid with them. He'd be sending Redd, too, if he wasn't already on vacation. It was to keep him out of the way of the next step. He turned back to those remaining.
"Waxx, Near, make sure the base is secure. Aff, Vanhanen, start preparations to get 404 on the field as soon as possible. Situations like this rarely end with words. If it does, we can always recall him. For now, get a bird ready to take him to Mitsuri. What they have there might not be enough firepower to take it on if it gets violent."
The so-called Plaguefather let out a quaking laugh, the innermost recesses of his wet lungs jostling in a sickening and moist fashion - almost as if every fiber of his respiratory system had been infected with thick phlegm.
"Ahh... my cousins, the feast is a magnificent time. It is when the maggots come to break down corpses left behind by time and circumstance, when they feed and we celebrate in their decadence. We praise them for bringing life from death in its most beautiful and cherished ways. The songs my imps sing are an extension of that great happiness. Do you not see?"
He plunged a hand into his exposed guts, pulling a section of intestine out like a gnarled purplish-red hose. Out from the bile and pus came a parade of new imps, much like the ones before it, but they simply went to join the others and sing as they did in horrific burps and mockeries of human language.
"Yet, I see that the feast is not to everyone's liking. Disease and decay seem to be frowned upon, perhaps even feared, here. Stagnation is necessary for some things. That way, new forms of life can come from the glot and spew,"
He retracted his many folds of fat and blubber, becoming a more manageable and easy-to-understand size. He now stood about as tall as the giantess, and lowered his head in a courteous fashion towards all who gathered here. His asymmetrical horns followed through with the motion.
"Perhaps there is... another way?" he remarked with a slight melancholic twinge, given his enormous smile and jolly disposition. Perhaps he was offended, and took to the news that his plagues were not welcome here with a profound sadness. After all, that was why he came here - to share the feast with the world.
Septimus did as the man instructed. Not because the man had instructed him to do so, but because he himself believed that immediate engagement was not necessarily the most ideal thing to do in most cirumstance. As Gaige lay waste to the creatures in a daunting display of superhuman slaying firepower, he could easily understand the rage that she felt. How dare these creatures defile this resting place, of all places. His eyes look down upon the smoldering remains of the creatures, as something bigger begins to approach. Icy blue eyes peer up towards the titanic creature with an anger in the way he laughed, so ignorant of what he was doing.
I have slain larger....
But size was but a singular factor in a fight. It mattered, but there was more to this creature than size, as he seemingly spawned more and more of its creatures. But as time drew on, it because readily apparent to Septimus that the creature seemingly did not have malevolent motives. Indeed, to some extent he understood how the thing might feel in how others would misunderstand it and slay it for how ugly it looked and how it simply acted in accordance with it's own nature.
As the Big Jolly Bastard echoed out it's own explanation as to it's own motivations, Septimus held his sword out in Gaige's way and looked over towards her. Then towards Kaija, over his shoulder as he spoke.
"What would Kaede do?"
It seemed funny to him and almost, out of place for him to say it. He hadn't even ever met her, and he never would. And yet, he felt the need to carry on some semblance of her legacy. Someone had to.
He walked up to the creature, sifting through the crowd of imps, with a cool air and yet a firm facial expression. His fury was merely tranquilly contained, and tempered with patience for the man who ultimately was utterly oblivious to the fact that what he was doing was seen as wrong.
His eyes gradually ascended the creature and as they met with it's own.
"I'm afraid not." He begins. He speaks calmly, monotonely.
"Your conception of desire is utterly alien to us. And us, to you. We do not desire to see things be brought to death and your creatures kill things with their presence. Stagnation is necessary in some ways, yes. Adversity can build character. But this is not necessary ultimately and this form of life, unwelcome in that it destroys. There is no need for new life or for the feast."
Your existence and the existence of your creatures is your right. But not if it is at the expense of other life. The soul? The consciousness? It is a terrible thing to forcefully plunge into eternity. This place even? It represents something. These plants represents something."
He picks up a flower, holding the decrepit thing, so frail it falls into two pieces and breaks into individual pedals as it flutters to the ground.
"Your intentions are well placed, but to proceed now knowing what I have told intrude upon this place would selfish, and cruel. I must ask you to leave this world. Not because I hate you, but because you are incompatible with it."
He stared at the creature with a silent conviction. Half-hoping that he wouldn't proceed with what he was doing. The other half hoping no one makes a move against the creatures.
The concept didn't present itself to Torbaxas before in such a cognizant array of discomfort. Usually, the feast had progressed in such a way that the songs of the living dissolved into those of the maggots themselves. Yet those who actively came to oppose the Plaguefather presented points of both concern and illumination of misunderstanding.
"Well, that certainly brings this into perspective," he echoed as his massive body stagnated with silence and thought.
At length, his imps began to march back towards his swollen belly and climbed inside.
"I am afraid that I cannot return to where I came from before here. I can only be summoned from place to place by disease and decay, especially by that caused by my imps."
As the vampire approached the monstrosity and attempted to find a peaceful solution to the dilemma that had befallen the Mitsuri Arboretum, Kaija simply sheathed her hammer on her back and awaited the results of his proposition. She came here to clear the place of zombies; it didn't really matter how the job was done or who did it. The Plaguefather gave an expected reply.
"I am afraid that I cannot return to where I came from before here. I can only be summoned from place to place by disease and decay, especially by that caused by my imps."
So... the only way that we'd be able to get him to leave would be to spread a plague in someone else's backyard so that he could terrorize them and ruin their day instead of ours.
.......
"Okay."
Kaija reached back to draw the chainsaw waiting on her back for just this kind of situation but remembered one of the stranger's words.
"No, you idiot, that's a biohazard! Spilling guts and fluids is only going to make it spread more!"
"Hmm..."
She changed her mind and instead chose to draw what looked to be the hilt of a giant knife from her side.
The Goliath Arm: Dagger.
The weapon recognized her touch and the firmness of her grip and activated. From the cavity in which a blade should've been nestled, a red mass of searing plasma erupted outwards; shaped into a blade by magnetic fields produced by the device. Bolts of electricity arched down the weapon's 'blade', a light wind began to spiral around it and a mirage of heat could be seen surrounding the blade like an aura. The size of the mass of plasma itself was several times that of everyone there aside from The Plaguefather himself and the weapon's wielder. Despite having drawn a weapon that she felt would best cater to the enemy standing before her at that moment, Kaija didn't seem to be in much of a rush to attack.
"Kaede was a great hero, Lizzy. She had so much goodwill for everyone; true altruism. But she fostered harmful shadows within her body that ate away at her health every day. Even when they were killing her, she never once fought back to save herself; even when she had the power to do so. She just let herself die for no good reason," Kaija voiced her unpopular opinion as she stared down The Plaguefather, "Even if it's what she might've wanted, I'd prefer that we not repeat her mistakes today. I'd at least like to try and protect what's mine in times like these."
Kaija did not run nor sprint but walked towards the invader. If he chose to simply leave at that point, she had no desire to pursue. She felt no rage towards him; no desire to fight or see him dead. But, he had made it clear that he wasn't just going to leave and even the vampire had said it himself. The Plaguefather just wasn't fit for this place. It was sad, but it was also not Kaija's problem. If stood his ground by the time Kaija reached him, she would simply swipe at him with her plasma weapon; a blow that would slash diagonally across his chest.
On contact, the blade would atomize molecules that met its plasma directly. Bolts of electricity would surge through the creature's body, looking to damage both himself and whatever vermin might've still been crawling around inside of him. Heat would flare throughout the Plaguefather's body that would work to sublimate local matter near the plasma blade and vaporize liquids throughout his body. Radiation would flood out from the point of contact and look to damage the monster as well. It was a weapon that held the potential to ravage the beast without even breaking its skin and cauterize any wounds that it might've produced automatically.
Would it work on the Plaguefather? Who knows? Kaija thought it was a better idea to try it out on him than to continue trying to reason with a creature that had already made up its mind to stay and had already let loose hazardous creatures on the Arboretum
A hailstorm of projectiles came to an end as the corpses seemed to be cleared her munitions doing there best to pick up the abominable beings both wandering and crushed. The idea of even uprooted plants and cracked soil of this place bothered Lizzy but she'd be damned if she let her home go to rot and decay. The tide that had subsided oh so briefly came right back as a towering infectious mass came into view. Tumors and cancer puss and viscera it seemed to pollute the figure secreated from every pour. Various repugnant sights and muddied colors clashing with the vibrancy of the gardens and cons. The monstrosity spoke and with that everyone else wanted to speak up to.
They ask what feast a blubbering mass wants, to Lizzy it doesn't really matter it wasn't one that should be hear killing and abusing what a friend held so dear. They ask what Kaede would do, and that's hard to say as she was noncombatant. If she had to guess though this simply wouldn't of happened. Conflict didn't come to Mitsuri until a birthday that'd gone awry. The vampire speaks and a lot of it seems accurate and out of a relatable nature. Like he said though the cancerous colossus wasn't compatible here.
There was something there though that he said, though it was short lived by Kaija choosing to engage the creature. "I love you but shut up, she's not dead she's a tree." Nor was it for nothing, it was to uphold personal values that'd been held. That wasn't an argument to be had, Lizzy could understand how not fighting seemed counter productive even. She valued the heroism Kaede had chosen though, although Lizzy's various weapons were ready to engage she had another idea. A noncombative one born out of where they were and this place the pilot called home.
"What if then we give you a open canvas to do what you wish with? Your imps are already in slipspace polluting the air and white floors. The space would be yours to make a world practically of your choosing without infecting the home I adore." A search for containment being made before the alternative idea of opening fire upon the thing further.
"Everything's in place, sir," Data reported concerning the King's Left Hand. "Tracker is secure, security collar's magnetic field is active. He's being loaded onto the bird as we speak."
Leviathan nodded. He looked tired, Uptid noticed. He'd been in this line of work for who-knew-how-long. He was probably just waiting for Waxx to retire first, unless he was just waiting for the successor to come along. After all, it was almost tradition that the next SV-1 be picked from Leviathan staff by the Council. Not a set rule, but somehow kept over the years.
He jumped a little as Leviathan stood up from his chair, then tucked it in neatly. The Councilman's movements always came off as so abrupt, even when they weren't. Maybe it was age, maybe it was just the man's active nature. Who knew except the man himself.
"I'll be in my office. I'm expecting someone to come by, I think you can guess who. Send him right in to me when he arrives, you don't have to deal with him any longer than you need to."
"Sir."
"And keep me up to date on my Specialized staff. Any changes in behavior are to be reported to me at once."
Mitsuri Arboretum, present
The Nosferatu replied evenly to the Plaguefather, and, surprisingly, the biohazardous beast listened to what he had to say. The second wave of imps retreated. With a slight shrug, Castor deactivated his arms' properties. The blue glow died out, and he was just another human-sized figure on the black terrain. Almost normal if not for his metal hands. There was no need to distract his allies if this came down to anything particularly dangerous.
He listened to what everyone had to say. The Nosferatu, the beast, the giantslayer, the mech pilot. As they spoke he moved to the vampire's side. He felt more comfortable fighting alongside a bladesman than the other two. It was simply his style, especially since he was hand-to-hand oriented. He watched the strange beast and its assailant. Well, at least she heard me. She'd reached for a bladed weapon before changing to plasma. Not a bad decision, come to think of it. But the points made by the others were even better than the point of her plasma blade, whether or not it had immediate effects on the bulbous beast. Gaige, especially, had the right idea: closed containment. After all, that's what he'd been sent here to do. Contain, don't kill.
If Leviathan wanted this dead, he would've sent Pollux to take care of it.
But it was too late for him to speak. Kaija had struck a blow; if the Plaguefather elected to ignore the attack, then so be it. He would share his ideas. But assault was rarely met peacefully; even in his silence, apparently relaxed, he was prepared for a fight that while not inevitable, was very likely.
His eyes narrow as Kaija speaks and his eyes run red with bestial rage, particularly given the retreat of the creatures, all while continuing to start down the giant creature that stood before him. She did have a point and ultimately, he could. But "She died in the end due to her kindness in excess. Her naivety. There were times in which she helped people and did so effectively." He spat with venom as she walked by, a bit of grievance in his voice. Obviously, everyone was dealing with her death in different ways. This was his attempt at his.
Septimus does not waver as he feels the giant begin to approach, and hemerely sighs as the blade comes across the creature's chest from Kaija's own attack. He was standing right in front of the creature and was surprised to see someone else so bold as to join him. And yet, now, it posed great risk.
"Forgive me."
He pulls his blade from the ground next to him.
"I am unsure of what you want but I know what needs to be done. We can clearly send you and your kind somewhere. But one thing is certain. You must leave this place...."
"One way. Or another."
His hand clenches his sword tightly as he still yet looked up at the creature, his anger indirect and his remorse, evident if one looked beyond the surface of his gaze and heard the tone of his voice.
Torbaxas looked around at his honored guests, and he felt a sudden and stinging sensation of melancholy. He had felt it stagnating in the back of his mind for entire swaths of time now, knowing that they would never appreciate his gifts. He patted his gut solemnly, even as the weapon of the titan-slayer slammed into his body - for lack of a better term. Though it neither broke skin nor tore away flesh, it atomized what lay beneath.
The sizzling pockets of infected flesh burst and bubbled out, blood and pus oozing from the fresh wounds caused by the practical microwaving of his innards. His precious imps that sought refuge in his guts were forced away from their homes, screaming in agony as they clawed desperately from the filth and mass of their progenitor. Smaller creatures too, dog-sized and bipedal, wallowed out of the resulting tidal wash of slime and gunk. They were already dead, floating amidst boiling oceans of bile and ichor.
The billowing clouds of flies swarming from the enormous pockets in his skin suddenly fell like fist-sized balls of hail, impacting the ground with deep rivets of soil.
But still, the Plaguefather laughed. The twisted limb extending from his shoulder that had been deeply upturned by the plasma blade knitted itself back together just as quickly as it had been burned away. In fact, the slithering trails of melted flesh seemed to create more instead of being completely incinerated. Even in the ash and the blackened meat, life began anew. Broken pustules snapped into activity, swaths of scorched flesh popped and sizzled. There were things that were moving just under the surface.
"My children, the time as passed,"
He raised his arm, growing once more to his larger height and dwarfing those assembled by order of magnitude. His girth smashed over trees, displaced the lake, and consumed the land underneath him. From the festering wound came a new generation of imps, all screaming and shouting with unfathomable joy at their creator's decision to bring them into existence.
New, horrendous shapes poured out of the gaping incision, his innards popping and squeezing out noxious ooze that both gave life to these terrifying creatures but also drowned the foliage and rotted anything it touched - except, of course, for those he called his 'children'.
"If my gifts should be spurned, then it is not a Feast of Maggots they shall enjoy - but one of Flies!"
Why couldn't, just once, a containment mission end as just that?
"Force yourself to ignore me."
He made sure to warn the vampire first, in a low voice. Castor's ability couldn't be controlled to only affect some of the others on the battlefield. There was only one creature known to have no reaction to his pheromones, and that was Pollux. Castor was already pretty sure Leviathan had dispatched 404 to help, even before violence erupted. While he didn't like the idea of his brother entering the field, especially considering his weapons were bladed, there wasn't much else that could be done by Leviathan base to help the situation. Besides, the part of they garden they were already in was thoroughly infected as it was. There wasn't much more damage biohazardous fluids could do at this point.
His warning, or perhaps command, delivered, the King's Right Hand placed his entire focus on his arms. They lit up quickly, brighter than before, with a much more prominent and very different chemical being released. The purpose was more than attention - it was full aggression. It was designed to draw them in, as close as possible, so that he could actually put his hand-to-hand skills to use. Blunt force trauma might not be effective, but these things were obviously highly functional; they had a consciousness. Which obviously meant that they could be forced unconscious by Castor's secondary ability. And, hopefully, do so without drawing too much friendly fire.
As Plaguefather released his legions onto the Arboretum and grew in size, she paid little attention to the creatures flowing out of his body. She had seen it already; they listened to him and originated from within his being. He was their leader and possible the lynchpin that made this entire catastrophe possible. His minions could be dealt with in time and Kaija wanted to cut off the head of this plague before worrying about its underlings.
Kaija had little response to Plaguefather's growth; her powers and the accompanying equipment designed for the soldier rendered the scale and magnitude of her opponents practically irrelevant. Not a moment after he grew to his new height, he would find that Kaija continued to meet his eyes on an even plane; her equipment adjusted for her new stature and the plasma of her blade extended and intensified to cut through his flesh with no less ease than it had only a moment ago. For some reason, the monster had decided to continue speaking even after a fight began.
Kaija decided to use that as an opening to attack once more.
"If my gifts-"
Before the word "should" could leave his lips, Kaija would launch a strike at the beast that would threaten to sever both of his arms in a second. She simply turned the blade held in her right hand downwards, moved it over to her left side, rose the blade upwards to atomize the matter connecting Plaguefather's right arm to his shoulders, carried the motion over the vile creature's head without slowing, and back down through his left shoulder to do the same. Regardless of whether or not her attack was successful, she'd continue to pressure him.
She'd put her weight on her right foot to make a short retreat, rotated her torso counter-clockwise, and rotated her left foot so that it was perpendicular to her right after it touched the ground; assuming the proper stance for a foil fencer with her plasma weapon in the place of a rapier.
Unlike many of the other melee Goliath Arms, the weight of Kaija's dagger rested almost entirely in the hilt that generated the plasma blade and physical strength had no effect on the potency of the weapon in battle. Kaija's current stance, unlike her traditional "sword and board" stance that she usually took in battle, sacrificed the forward defense offered by her shield and the majority of the striking power that she usually put behind her blows for extra range in her strikes and a sharp increase in her striking speed. What followed was Kaija's answer to the Plaguefather's refusal to leave.
Launching more than three strikes per second, each strike barely visible to a trained human eye, Kaija would seek to atomize the vast majority of the disease-ridden Kaiju's body before it had a chance to respond. With each subtle flick of her wrist, she would look to cut swaths through the creature's body; erasing tons and tons of the creature's biomass with every little motion. In a manner not unlike a fencer, if the Plaguefather chose to advance upon Kaija, she'd simply retreat and allow him to walk headfirst into a wall of disintegrating strikes forged by the swift motion of her wrist. If he retreated, she's advance upon him; maintaining the perfect distance to strike the creature and stay out of its range no matter where it went.
Kaija had seen the blade work just fine on the creature's tissues already and was certain that, with enough time, she could completely atomize the entirety of its being or, at the very least, most of it and leave what little was left too burnt and irradiated to continue functioning. It was true that the armies spawned from its girth would need to be dealt with as well, but Kaija was confident that her allies could assist with that. Regardless, she wanted to see their "father" dead first.
"She's not dead" Lizzy remarked at nobody in particular, it was just her belief of things she'd actually scene unlike them. Her friend had just gone home, taken up root for the time being. It was a rather abstract magical kind of thing that went over the gamer's head. It was not death however. That being said Lizzy also couldn't watch death come to her home.
The air would become a thunderous chorus of gunfire as the Killzone weapon systems on Mjolnir and her twenty drones in flight opened fire with a radius of each shot that should provide a pit to an alabaster void for the legion of imps. She didn't aim for them but rather the ground looking to create various spontaneous spawned regions of battle field removal focused tactics. Her focus wasn't on the abomination towering over the trees or the hoard when it came to the gunfire but rather negating infection spreading to the area.
That wasn't to say she wasn't also willing to attack however as she commanded the Hammer of Dawn weapon system outward. Small drones some the size of insects looked to lace the area of effect of the attack. The heat of the following weapon would not ignite her home. Anything in the cylinder however she could make no promise for. With the heat to match the plasma used by the dagger the Hammers would look to cast twelve lances of energy downwards. The ring they formed looked to create a singular beam of energy that would consume the entirety of the monstrosities head and travel down looking to leave an atomized hole through the entirety of the cancerous mass.
Septimus looked down, the black of his thick armor keeping all the sunlight away from his eyes as he looked towards his enemies as they approached, slowly, he started to move towards them.
"Force yourself to ignore me."
The beast would recoil at being controlled, but the pheromones did not leash it. No. It draw it. As if being fatigued by torpor the looming daylight as the sun rose.
*HSSSSSSSsssssssssss*
He began to His eyes landed on Castor, a visible red aura radiating from them as he stared at him. Then back at the enemy. Then back at him. Then back at the enemy. His tendril began to move and creep out...almost as though it had a mind of it's own. The man was far out of it's reach.
"She's not dead"
The tendril goes in and his eyes shut. He is still for the first time and then they open again moments later, now blue. He swipes and the air rushes all around him, as 5 heads come off in a display of superhuman strength and precision. An immense force channeled to the necks of each enemy who stood before him,
As his enemies fell, the path had become clear. He had to cut it.
Guide me.
He flew through the air with one leap, soaring above the enemy as he swept his great blade beneath their feet to sever legs. They fell and he stepped over them in stride as ran towards the growing giant great sword in hand. One after another. The force of his own strikes pushed him but he did not carve through them in Swaths. He could not. More, he picked through the gaps in their unorganized defense, their Merry songs and happy go-luck nature seemingly lending little to the realm of strategy as they attempted to reach for one who out-reached them.
His targets, only being those in his path. He cared not if they died and he took no joy in cutting those down, thoguh the bellowing laughter of the plague-father made it all the more easy. An onslaught of rounds roared towards the enemy from Gaige, and as he turned to look at her he steered clear of the crossfire bucking and weaving past bullets as she exploded outward and proceeding down any path she cleared, if previous results were an indicator. His objective.
I won't be needing this.
The ground grew more and more distant as...Septimus hung from a random flake the Plaguefather's skin, dangling dangerously high. He looked down, a disgusting mass of organic ooze jutting out the creature's every orifice. The overjoyed cries of freshly birthed creatures as they descended upon the battlefield with a maddening glee.
He waits for the creature to grow to it's peak before he begin it's ascension.
I take no joy in this
Sword in hand and finally towards the top of the creature, Septimus ran along the creature's and leapt up to it's face with sword in hand to land onto it's nose not unlike a nat, before he'd jump and lung at the beast eyes and seek to stab it's eye, seeking to blind it and ultimately, open it up more to Kaija's blows.
Should the strike work, he would twist the blade and drop down to the creature's lips, expecting retaliation or the threat of death by fire soon.
Something tells me that this type is not the one to dodge.
With each one of the noxious beasts that fell, it seemed that two more sprang up in their place. What would have been of greater concern yet was the growing cloud of toxic fumes emanating from the gibbering crowd of bulbous monstrosities. Metal would rust, flesh would corrode, and the very air smelled of death and decay. Nowhere would this have been more evident than centered from the Plaguefather himself, who waddled within the miasma on thick folds of broken skin and exposed fat.
Weapons that would pass through his children soon found themselves teetering on the edge of their life expectancy.
However, the forces that would defend this place to the last pushed through regardless of the tenacious and stubborn nature of those assembled to defile it. Torbaxas came under fire despite his children's best efforts, as he had attained a critical mass that washed over the scenery of the natural beauty. He would be the lynchpin that the defenders had to defeat in order to drain the pestilential horror that drowned out growth and prosperity.
A series of familiar blade-strokes came towards the Plaguefather in that instant before he could even finish his declarative statement, his mouth stunted and slurred as have of his face caved into plasma-irradiated sludge. He howled with joy, laughing in the face of certain destruction. The continuous lashes had little effect, as with each one carving out substantial pieces of his overall mass - the regenerative properties of the Defiler merely sloughed into the wounds, creating new and gut-wrenching forms of flesh and fatty tissue.
He suddenly reached up for his mouth, snapping the jaw in twain, and exposed the inner workings of his trachea and guts to the giant woman, hurling a torrential downpour of bile and such a magnificently disgusting array of fluids that the very sky above them started to wither into a suddenly oxygen and water-deprived environment. The sheer humidity of the moist belch had consumed the atmospheric gases above the battlefield, turning it into sickening vapors and an acidic rain of stomach-based liquid.
All Torbaxas did was cackle and gurgle as he put his mouth back together with a series of wet pops.
"Oh, what is this?" he muttered as he felt his eye burst with the terrific power behind the vampire's sword-stroke.
Yet, the warrior would have to proceed with caution, as even his magical nature could not long protect both himself and his weapons and armor from the terrifying rot swarming around him. The fluid from Torbaxas' eye would cause even further degeneration of materials as it would splash over the vampire in the fashion of a lanced boil.
"Hahaha! Welcome, now, to the Feast of Flies! A magnificent display, wouldn't you agree?"
Seeing through his only eye, Torbaxas turned once again towards the giant woman and materialized what looked to be a massive multi-headed flail in one hand and a bell in the other. He swung the instrument once, twice, thrice - three times, and each sound came with it the apocalyptic knell of a funeral march for the living assembled here. Those of his children that were "killed" or "transported" elsewhere clawed their way back from the endless nether that awaited them, alive in the sense that they moved and sang once more as they engaged in the endless battle and rotting.
"Come, now, hear the song of Torbaxas - Plaguefather, and Giftbringer!"
He would whip the flail towards the giant woman, each skull producing such toxic fumes that inhaling or even coming in contact with the gas would be rather detrimental. The key, however, seemed to be in his other hand - the mysterious bell he rang, and rang, and rang.
"You said developments, Uptid. Like there was more than one."
"There are, sir." They had made it back to Uptid's office, which was considerably smaller than Leviathan's and lined entirely with computer monitors, memory drives, and various kinds of other systems that Leviathan didn't understand very well except that they helped with the white-haired researcher's work. He pulled the room's only seat, a revolving chair, in front of the biggest monitor and sat down in it. Leviathan watched from over his shoulder as he punched in the appropriate passcode to access his constant stream of information.
"First, there's been a video released by a strange individual. We're working on tracing it, but - "
"Monitor it and leave it to SV-5."
A nod as he changed windows from the strange young man in the beaked mask, to voice recordings of the events in the Arboretum. SV-1 listened to the voice of Plaguefather - Torbaxas - and his minions, before sound began to cut out. He glanced at Data for an explanation to that.
"We believe that the rapid decay brought on by the biohazard is beginning to corrupt the communication system."
A nod. "And what about my package?"
Data's fingers hesitated over the keyboard. "That's... the main situation, sir."
"Explain."
"Well, sir... he's running."
Leviathan looked remarkably unconcerned despite the information he'd just been given. "Is he moving toward Mitsuri?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then let him get warmed up. It looks like there's a lot of fighting ahead of him. Just the kind of break he needs to blow off some steam."
The Japanese coast, five minutes ago
The ride had been quiet so far. Two armed guards kept their weapons trained on the anomaly, although, admittedly, weapons didn't do much of anything against the particular cargo. Both of the men had transported ACF-404 to and from locations on multiple occasions, enough so that his peaceable demeanor with his eyes closed, legs crossed, and slight smile didn't fool either of them; and that the sharp, almost hungry look in the opened eyes didn't bother them. They were bringing him to the site of a battle, after all. He approved of that. It would be the ride home that would be stressful.
"How far out are we?" one of the guards yelled to the pilot over the sound of the overhead propeller on the military-grade helicopter.
"We're coming up on the coast now, sir, just give it a few more minutes."
As the guard turned back around, he saw ACF-404's eyes snap open, sharper than ever. Something about him made his stomach flip despite all his experience with the anomaly. His grip tightened around his weapon, and he saw his companion's do the same. Slowly, sickeningly, the anomaly grinned. And then, while looking dead-on at its two wardens, the thing tightened its wrists and gave the cuffs one little tug. It broke them, something it hadn't done before, not during all its escape attempts. Before they could aim the weapons, let alone fire them, the anomaly had done the same with its ankle bracers. They expected it to reach for the collar next, expected it to break its magnetic field and destroy the whole bird and its occupants. It hadn't done this before, and their weapons, they knew from the start, would be largely ineffective.
Instead, with that same grin stretching its lips, the anomaly slammed its foot against one of the bird's doors. The blow tore the thing off, jostling the vehicle and forcing the two guards to grab onto something with their free hands, making aiming their rifles much harder as the anomaly simply jumped out of the helicopter, plummeting toward the earth below at breakneck speeds. Either the pilot or co-pilot had already called back to L-7, "ACF-Four-Zero-Four has breached. Orders requested. Repeat, we have a four-zero-four breaching situation. Over."
The bird lost some altitude in order to try to keep sight of the escapee, but the anomaly's speed was obviously better than the helicopter's, and it was already disappearing fast. It was a few long, stressful minutes before they received a response from SV-1.
"Follow him and track him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, then disable his field as planned when he reaches the contamination site. Over."
Mitsuri Arboretum, present
The situation with the Nosferatu had gone pretty much as Castor expected. It lashed out, but was definitely old enough to catch itself, especially once it realized the former ACF was too far away to do any harm to it. Instead, it ran towards the Plaguefather and made a frontal assault. Castor decided it would be best to stay put and focus on at least keeping the remaining imps away from the other fighters, and from the rest of the garden. It took a few minutes for him to realize just how bad the rot was.
He didn't notice it on his skin, at first. There was so much gore flying around as he bashed the things and their bloated bodies practically burst that he didn't see the way his own skin was starting to dissolve. Not until the metal of his arms, drenched in the pus and grime of the imps, began to flake away, did he realize how powerful their corrosion was.
He knew it would replenish itself as fast as it could peel; whatever had given him this gift made certain he would not lose it. However, the rotted black layers were not nearly as effective as the fresh silver ones beneath. Some of the plaguebringers had begun to lose interest in him. Gritting his teeth as he struck a blow to yet another child of Torbaxes, he forced his arms into full gear, still sending out the command of aggression. It would be clouded by the stench of decay to those above, and likely filtered out of the mech of the pilot Gaige. Maintaining the arms' power was considerably draining, however. As more of the monsters flooded towards him, his blows became fewer, and he instead engaged in evasive tactics.
In avoiding the blades of one, catching them on the glowing blue forearms, he managed to glance up long enough to see the axe of another hurtling down towards his head. While he knew it wouldn't kill him, the time to regenerate would be valuable seconds spent distracted. There didn't seem to be anything to do about it, though, so he braced himself for the impact.
Instead of an axe to the skull, he got a burst of wet, infectious guts to the face, and before he could try to wipe them off to see what had just happened, the pressure on his arms disappeared. He could guess what had just happened, and with sight restored, he saw his guess was right.
"Hello there, brother," Pollux greeted almost cheerfully as another powerful black blade fromed from the blood already soaking his arms, leaked from the brand-like scars. He slashed through a row of undead with a manic laugh. Castor stopped to catch his breath, knowing that he could at least physically rest and divert most of his remaining energy to the power of his arms.
"Good to see you too," he managed, once he could do some semblance of breathing in the toxic air. Pollux didn't seem to notice it, didn't seem to notice how quickly each blade dissolved and returned to his blood. How each drop of blood that dripped from his arms turned black and crusty before it even hit the ground. Even the acid rain, the wrath or perhaps glee of the Plaguefather, burning his skin, had no effect on the King's Club. He simply formed knife after knife, blade after blade, cutting his foes down as fast as they sprang back up. Tireless, thoroughly enjoying himself. And for a moment, in all the decay and ruin around him, Castor thought he saw a little boy, a long dead boy, laughing and playing soldier in the rain.
Septimus felt a brief satisfaction in having his blade enter the titanic abomination's eye and yet it briefly lived as it bathed him not in glorious blood but a revolting bile. He saw his blade begin to give way and in that split second , he twisted his blade and then abruptly shot it to break in half,his irritation growing as past the rushing winds of his rapid descent, he could still yet hear the Plaguefather’s bellowing laughter.
His descent slowed as he hit the slop( of the thing's gradually steepening body. He kept his wits as he bounced and rolled along the thing’s ever shifting mass with the potentially still present danger of Kaija's plasma jabs. The air rushes by until he latches unto a single hair of the thing's body which snaps. He slows and just before he falls from the edge, he grabs unto a flab of crusty hanging from an unnatural orifice leading to the thing's innards. Creatures spawn endlessly and as one comes towards him.
*BOOM* The creature is blown aside by a shotgun blast plows through the rot, gases of the creature failing to threaten the structural integrity of something it never contacted. However, the ooze started to threaten his gear. As it all melted at varying rates, he threw them off one by one, rapidly relocating ammo to his pockets and guns to his holster, his coat and armor serving to preserve his munitions in the oncoming rot rain.
That noise. That smell.
He listened for for the gong of the bell and smelled the unnaturalness of it's material through the stench of the man's bile. To everyone else, the Bell was probably nothing notable, a mere symbolic instrument meant to drive home the apocalyptic nature of the Plaguefather's coming. But Septimus resonated intimately with the concept of the unnatural. Of magic and of Elderitch, cosmic forces such as the being before him today. He knew that there was something conceptually linked to it. It had to be destroyed or otherwise countered.
"THE BELL!" He yelled, at the top of his natural lungs, hoping someone. Anyone, would hear what he had discovered. "It must be destroyed!"*Slck* His gloves had begun to melt and the daunting fall awaited him below would wound even him. His eyes searched and saw yet another imp falling. With yet another grip. His legs gripped what they could as he exploded out to tackle the descending demon and to spiral with it mid air.
The beast was a creature of stasis and sought to preserve the vampirific body against any force that sought to change what it was. The supernatural and cosmic forces did not conduct through it. All the various cures for Nosferatu, ultimately failed, as the hideous monster within did not wish for any kind of cure. It is said this curse grew stronger with Age, and there was still hope for some.There was none for him. And he'd long stopped trying. There was still hope for Bell. If not for her to become human, then for her to not be as much of a covered monster as he was.
The imp's resistance was quickly quelled as Septimus tore an arm and gripped into his shoulder so as to adequately beat the thing to death and position it as an adequate cushion as he rolled through the air, his newfound brought about by a source as of yet unknown, deeper than the beast and something beyond the blood. For it, whatever it was, he was thankful for the strength given to return to her once more, for as he angled himself.
The ground got closer...
And closer...
And closer....
Splat. The unceremonious sound of the creatures crushed beneath Septimus' feet and then body, enabling him to survive falling from the height of the titan's head with some injury. He laid covered in Bile rotting away his gear. The disease did not afflict him nor did did it directly harm him. In reality, it's supernatural nature was what made the beast resist it so. But it still yet sapped his Vitae to continue to resist these natural forces. He would need to feed and as a result, flee the battlefield entirely.
"Hahaha! Welcome, now, to the Feast of Flies! A magnificent display, wouldn't you agree?"
The situation grew bleak, dire even as the man destroyed the base. His anger swelled as he looked up, his eyes lighting up with an blue, fiery gaze as he looked up at the bellowing beast. How it towered over him so and made him feel so irrelevant. It infuriated him. How it destroyed all of what Kaede had built for no discernable reason than it simply being and laughing all the while he and the others did it? What kind of God allows such an abomination to exist. All manner of sympathy fled him as he grew to despise Torbraxas for the ugly being he presented himself as.
"What meaning is your happiness if this is all you know. You are not sentient creatures worthy of life. You are ideas, not worthy of sympathy. Not worthy of Mercy."
His fists clenched and his jaw expanded to inhuman lengths as his blood boiled. The Vitae within his body transform to breath. The...Roar? Cry? Shriek? That ungodly noise that emanated from his mouth. Chest. And somewhere else. It became unceasing.
It was something of a noise no man should ever make, shrill and high pitched, yet with an otherwise unknown quality that made it sound warped and like it came from the voice of a phantom. The air around him distorted as sound soon blotted out everything near him and at it's tone, it grew louder than the Bell. People hundreds of miles away had already begun to flee as the Elderitch sound harmonically instilled an unnatural fear in all who heard it. Normal people who heard it, unable to resist the urge to run as it shattered any notion of reasoning with supernatural potency.
He fell to his knees, smashing denting the dead creature in a futile fit as it brought itself back to life again and again. He yelled so loudly that he could no longer hear the titan's voice.
Not over his own fury. His own pain. He wanted to make it known Not over his own anguish. And it didn't stop. It would not stop, his cries were heeded, his Vitae expended or he was otherwise, silenced.
He sought to rip the creature's music away with the the power of his own beast for reasoning of little beyond spite. And replace their beloved song and the laughter of their father figure with nothing more than his own rebellious bellow. All the price of his unknowing of how it would afflict his allies.
Her dagger was just as effective against Plaguefather's flesh as she had expected, but the beast was far more resilient to damage than she would've imagined. Every slash did what it was intended and disintegrated swaths of flesh from his wretched body only to have him regenerate the damage less than a second later. And, given the monster's laughter, he was either great at bluffing or wasn't concerned with the damage that he had been taking in the slightest. He reached up to grab hold of his own jaw and Kaija made a short retreat, switching back to her usual stance to prepare for whatever was about to spring forth from his mouth.
Unlike the usual assault that might come from a titan's maw, no projectile came her way, directly. Instead of sending his vomit in her direction, he sent acid spewing into the sky that drained it of moisture and breathable air. A quick glance at her shield revealed that small areas on its surface had begun to rust; the shield designed to withstand nearly any kind of chemical assault succumbing to the supernatural nature of the Plaguefather's attack. This wasn't the first time that an opponent had attempted to steal her breath from her, nor the second. She took one last breath into her lungs to hold before the area was devoid of breathable air and the timer started. She'd only have a few minutes to fight before she'd have to retreat and for more, but minutes were an unbearably long amount of time in an active battle.
The acid rain burned her skin but the sensation had nothing to do with the acidity of the solution. On its own, the corrosive chemical would've been nothing more than an irritant to the giant's eyes and any open wounds that it may have gotten into. What she felt reminded her of magic and beings with power beyond the material world; the feeling of octarine burning away within her body. It hinted at the supernatural aspects of her opponent and gave a logical explanation for not only its tenacity and behavior but the weapons that it began to draw out of thin air.
She raised her shield to block the hellish flail as a bell rang in the titan's other hand, then heard the words of the warrior whom she hadn't even noticed climbing up the Plaguefather's body.
"THE BELL!" He yelled at the top of his natural lungs, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear what he had discovered. "It must be destroyed!"
The flail hit her shield once more and her eyes locked onto the instrument. Truthfully, she doubted that destroying a bell would've done anything to harm the creature standing before her. But, after having watched the monstrosity survive having half of its brain and most of its internal organs removed, and after feeling the presence of magic within its toxic emissions, she figured that it was as good an idea as any to attack the bell. It was the best idea that she had at the moment that didn't involve doing more damage to the Arboretum. When the flail returned for a third blow, she knocked it aside with her shield, the wind generated by the motion of the shield clearing whatever poison that he was trying to amass before her.
Before her opponent had a chance to swing his weapon again, Kaija would simply raise her blade and strike the bell; working to disintegrate it and the hand that held it in one blow to silence its ringing and erase its magic.
Hopefully, Septimus' advice would prove more helpful than not.
The infernal sound of the instrument in Torbaxas' hand had ceased not because it was destroyed, but because it fell to the ground away from his grip, ejecting a ton of sediment with its sheer density of material.
Those that called the Plaguefather their parental figure stirred only once, and it would be to look upon their creator with fear.
Torbaxas himself could not retrieve the source of the sonorous noise, for his hand had been evaporated entirely. He turned from the bell to the giant man, the toothy grin ever present on his fat, misshapen face.
"The carnival song will never stop, not even with such antipathy for good music," he mocked jokingly.
The tsunami of screaming noise coming from the vampire ruptured the boils in the lining of Torbaxas' rudimentary ears, sending the bubbling ooze down his thick neck. He smiled wider, seeing the defiant roar as little more than appreciation for the music that had once been.
"True, my children thrive on the bells and songs, you have done well to find that weakness," however, even above the din of pain and anger the ancient one projected, Torbaxas' laughter rose ever higher and clouded the area for miles around in the pollution of his incessant cackling.
"But I will leave you with a special gift - one that I have prepared for such an occasion!"
He began to grow more and more, and the sky above him swirled into a miasma of pestilential rain. Dark green smoke throttled the clouds, and the flies emerged from every crevasse. The Plaguefather's mass started to bubble and pop along the seams.
"Give thanks to the Plaguefather for the flu and plague! Let your heart rupture with boils, and may your days ever be filled with the sound of flies and maggots!"
Without anything further to say or do, the Plaguefather burst into a massive tsunami of unidentifiable gas and infected fluid. But, he and his ilk were gone from this place - the bell having shrunk down to an innocent little trinket, though pockmarked with rust and the unmistakable three-dotted mark of Torbaxas.
The Plaguefather was just one more reason for Kaija to dislike magic and all things spawned from it. No matter what anyone did to him, he just kept smiling and talking as though he hadn't a care in the world. Even as he spoke of defeat and his so-called weakness, he didn't seem to slow down or miss a step at all and Kaija couldn't sense any change in his spirit whatsoever. At least Septimus was right about one thing; the bell was the key and she had begun to understand the purpose behind his deafening wail. Plaguefather began to expand and the soldier was just about to grow to match him once more before she had heard his words.
"But I will leave you with a special gift - one that I have prepared for such an occasion!"
It took her a second to figure out what was happening, but the little details coming from the creature's body painted a pretty clear picture. The sound of gas leaking from his pores. Pressurized fluid spewing out from his flesh wherever it could. Bubbling masses scattered over his body where pressure had been building. The abomination's final parting gift.
"Oh..." she exclaimed as she finally put the pieces together in her mind. She deactivated her dagger and sheathed it back onto her hip; deciding that it was best not to attack her opponent at this time, "Oh, shit!"
Kaija took off towards Septimus, advancing a few hurried steps before sliding to a halt on her knees in front of him in a manner that would allow him to continue to witness the danger building up behind her back through her colossal legs.
"Here! To me!" she called out to anyone who might listen with a thunderous voice that would carry over the battlefield with ease, "He's gonna blow!"
She raised her shield over her head in preparation for an upcoming downpour then lowered her free hand so that the vampire, or anyone who wished to do so, could use it as a platform to ride out the imminent flood in safety. Her back, itself, would serve as a wall to absorb the concussive force of the explosion that the giant had been expecting. The monster's parting words were no less jolly than they had been throughout the entire encounter.
"Give thanks to the Plaguefather for the flu and plague! Let your heart rupture with boils, and may your days ever be filled with the sound of flies and maggots!"
And then, he burst. Kaija had no way to protect the entirety of the Arboretum from an attack like that, but she could still serve to protect those who had fought alongside her to protect this place. The giant would use her body and shield to defend anyone who would accept her help at that moment, and she would endure. As for the Arboretum, well...
That was something to worry about after the giant explosion of hazardous materials had been handled.
Black blades swiped again and again through the enemy as the bell tolled above. A scream rolled over the battlefield, a noise that both brothers recognized as the cry of the Nosferatu. Rather than run, Pollux turned toward the source of the sound with a scowl, and Castor reached out to stop him from doing anything rash. As they watched, the Kaiju slayer's blade cut through the hand with the bell: the massive object fell to the ground, before visibly shrinking down to a more... human-friendly size. Torbaxas' next action, however, was somewhat less human-friendly, despite his tone.
"Here! To me! He's gonna blow!"
The enemy stopped, and so did the King's Hands. The brothers met eyes with each other. There wasn't much time to make decisions; their language switched to their hurried mother tongue, a language long forgotten, a language neither the Foundation nor anyone alive would recognize.
"You go. I'll get the bell." The Club spoke first, eyes dark, blade evaporating.
A snort from his "brother". "You really think I'm going to trust you to -"
The scarred man tapped his collar, miraculously intact, at least on the outside. "I've still got this thing on. If I tried anything it's not like I'd get away with it. Leviathan's probably going to want to look at that bell. If Llama doesn't get to it first." He glanced down at his skin, still healing from the acid and the monsters' attacks. Llama would certainly be interested in something that could strip him so thin, so easily. Not only that, but he could feel infection burning through him. His entire body was an open wound, now probably an infected wound, and while his healing factor could fight it, . "Your arms are made of metal. You can ring it by accident, and while we don't want these things coming back, the idiots who think they can handle this kind of thing are gonna be curious. Besides, I can make a shield for myself. Get to it before anyone realizes."
Castor had his doubts, for good reason, but Pollux did have a point.
"I swear, if you try anything stupid..."
Another tap on the collar, but combined with a smile that told Castor he was definitely going to regret this decision. Still... no time to hesitate. He couldn't exactly do anything about his companion if whatever the Plaguefather was packing stripped his own defenses. Castor ran towards Kaija at speeds above peak human, disabling his arms before he got too close so that the blue light, pheromones, and electric anomaly were all well disabled by the time he arrived. He stepped into the hand just before it was raised from the ground.
The King's Club ran instead in the direction of the bell, black armor forming over his skin. He reached the crater's lip by the time that Castor reached Kaija's hand; he disappeared inside just as the massive Father of Infection erupted. Whether the cover would be enough, would only be seen after the dust and green gasses cleared from the field.
A slow, ghastly breath escapes his lungs now as the expel only the natural air within, his fists covered in the bile of the creature before him who's corpse he beat to the ground. He watches asbattle winning blow is struck by Kaija and the Plaguefather is seemingly inert and incapable in the face of his defeat. A dreaded feeling approaches as yet still the Plaguefather laughs, seemingly indicative of the fact that he was something that could not be killed, nor easily banished. But that all came to an end as soon he began to expand. It did not take an investigator or an occult expert to realize what was occurring.
His questions in concerns to how he would survive appeared before him concealed by a burst of dust. Ironically, appearing before Septimus more like unto an angel than any kind of devil. He looked up to her horned head and earnest eyes, and nodded slowly.
There is demon in you isn't there? You have your own beast. I see it.
She raised her shield over her head in preparation for an upcoming downpour then lowered her free hand so that the vampire, or anyone who wished to do so, could use it as a platform to ride out the imminent flood in safety.
*Shik*
He stabs the bayonet clad gun into the dirt, leaning on it as he staggers unto his feet. Slowly, he walks to her hand. clutching his shotgun with his, taking a single step. He puts the rifle down and calmly sits, awaiting the coming storm with any coming companions.
The agent of some unknown origin sons to soon be accompanied by another guest. Working to handle the swarm of impish undead like terrors. The vampire combats them in his own way, its efficient though it leaves a lot of parts which is a bit worrisome to Lizzy but containment of severed heads was still a doable act. Kaija engages the cackling mass at its height and matching it's strength. Equipment designed to help such towering threats. With that Lizzy can center herself on control of the area of effect related attacks.
The Killzones lighten up on targeting figures to cast a blanketing area of Slipspace. The wash of filth and disease would be contained in a void that was seemingly bottomless. Vomit caught by defenses or evaded found itself dipping into a bucket instead of splashing along the floor. She couldn't contain it all but by keeping the munitions as a constant she could rather quickly create an area of effect to try and match the spread. This was her home and with allies present she could dedicate to keeping at least the filth to a confined space. She didn't really need to use the Hammers of Dawn on the Plaguefather that meant however that in his next move she could try and counter it.
A tide was spawned a torrential rain to accompany the mass of disease. Her four Mjolnir mounted Hammers would meet with the twelve that filled the air in a clock like circle. Creating a large ring of heat a majority of the rain fell to an inferno that was well beyond the denaturation point of the bacteria. The air goes from smelling like rot to just cooked ozone, breath perhaps tight and skin feeling dry from the bright ring of heat above. Slipspace largely meeting the wave to cut down on it's spread, wasn't long before it was over.
Probably a good thirty to fifty yard diameter was corroded away. A even larger chunk of Mitsuri uprooted and cracked. She felt like Kaede would see to it's healing over time. She'd fixed the forest of Fukuoka outside of the region made for monsters and that was before she'd been some magical tree. That said as wood wilted and trees were found barren, numerous spots she'd see her friend on her knees in the mud now decayed. This didn't feel like a win and ate at the gamer's spirit.
Her friends weren't around here as much, she'd lost an eye, and felt like she'd failed a world when the Avata's reign came to an end. She'd failed to save Grim and now it'd felt like she had still in a way failed her home. As the mech came to a landing she positioned the Hammers of Dawn above incase it had to be her to do the next part. With a swallow of pride she left Mjolnir to approach the bell and giant that shielded the various companions from the corrosion Lizzy couldn't herself catch. "We have to burn the area that's been infected. Leaving it cleaned so it has time to regrow...but can someone else do that? Already feel like I let my home down."
The crater the King's Left Hand had chosen for his shelter was directly within the blast radius, struck before the mech pilot could act. Although the results were not as bad as they might have been on the surface of the garden, skin and metal were both torn from the surface of Pollux's body from the sheer force of the explosion, and melted by the goop and bitter rain that continued to burn the flesh underneath. Even before, he could feel the infection spreading through his body, having entered through his own scars and the various wounds that came with any battle. Now he feel the burning even after the rain stopped and flesh returned; his hand, always steady when wielding the blades, now shook ever so slightly.
He had planned to use the cover of the storm to attempt an escape, but in his current condition he doubted that he could have managed that even if the painful rain had been permitted to continue. So, he removed his cloak, which had somehow miraculously survived, and forced his hands steady just long enough to envelop the inside and outside of the dense, weighty bell with the material, not permitting the clapper to touch the bell's side even once. His head was throbbing, worse than any time it had been broken or even destroyed in battle. Something wasn't right... but he needed to at least get out of the hole. At the very least.
Castor remained standing in Kaija's palm, breathing slowly to fend off the nausea developing in his stomach. He was strong, sure, but even as his skin healed he felt his body growing warm. The metal of his arms continued to peel off in flakes, the rotted black dissolving into unidentifiable dust, the new chrome unlit by the blue beneath it. He hadn't been sick in a very long time, not even injured as his brother had been. Not that he wasn't used to pain or discomfort, but it was unusual for him. He watched Gaige's machinery at work, catching the mess before it could flood what was left of the Arboretum. His eyes followed the young, one-eyed pilot from her machine toward themselves and the crater... then let his eyes drift to said crater, and the man dragging himself from it.
First to emerge were the hands, still holding the red-wrapped bell like some sort of gift left behind by a very different sort of fat, jolly father. The rest of the body followed; however, rather than run as Castor expected, the form looked as though it couldn't even stand. Whitish-yellow outlines could be seen along the red wounds as his body fought the sicknesses the Plaguefather had left behind. He collapsed, using only one forearm to support his weight, hand clenching the bell so that the knuckles were almost as white as the patterns tracing his body.
The figure cried out, and black spikes erupted from those patterns, tearing through the infected pockets, opening them and leaking the pus from them. Then, as if exhausted, he collapsed on his side, grip still on the bell but much more relaxed, iron spikes dissolving into dust on the wind. Had Castor not been so far off the ground, he would have run directly to his brother's side. However, for the moment, he made the decision to wait until Kaija set him down, and to approach much more cautiously than he otherwise might have. As much as he loved and respected his brother, he didn't trust him, and while the infection certainly was real, the collapse might simply be a ruse. There would be no way to tell for sure without inspecting the prone form, but he would certainly exercise caution when he did so.
Kaija remained still through the brief storm. For nearly two minutes, she simply knelt and acted as a shelter for Castor and Septimus. The fierce winds and debris that rocketed towards them bounced off of her back and her shield directed all of the hazardous chemicals falling from the sky away from the two who stood in the palm of her hand. As the bile fell from the sky, Kaija's attention was focused more towards Gaige than the two warriors who were with her at the time. If their objective was to keep the Arboretum from suffering damages, then they had failed. The Kaiju Slayer may not have been overly upset with the results of the battle in her hearts of hearts, but she couldn't help but worry about what must've been going through Lizzy's mind.
At the end of it, her shield was slightly deformed and covered in rust, the sheathing over her weapons looked as though it had suffered some decay, and her uniform itself was damaged; leaving portions of her back, arms and legs exposed and the tattoo on her back visible for all to see. Kaija wasn't overly worried about any of that, though. The battle was over and her suit contributed little to none to her overall durability or survival at her titanic stature, anyways. It was mostly there to protect her from shame and keep her pride intact.
Fortunately, it hadn't begun to malfunction quite yet.
The companion of one of the two who were with her during the storm emerged from a crater filled with bile; shouting his lungs off and mutating for a moment before falling to the ground, incapacitated. A glance downwards at Castor informed Kaija of his concern for his comrade without having to hear a single word. She rose to her feet, swiped away some of the hazardous chemicals near Pollux, then allowed the vampire and the anomaly to step down onto land. She'd leave Castor to look after him while she tended to her own.
"We have to burn the area that's been infected. Leaving it cleaned so it has time to regrow...but can someone else do that? Already feel like I let my home down."
In their moment of peace, Kaija looked around to find that the toxins scattered about the area weren't the only damages incurred by the Arboretum. It looked as though Uma had "struck again". A lesson that had been enforced by Gaoto, Axum, Bradshaw and every tutor that Kaija had learned from over the years was the importance of masterful footwork. It enhanced one's ability to maintain control and balance in a fight and helped to outmaneuver an opponent and take advantage of the mistakes that they make in the instant that opportunity presents itself. Unfortunately, after the Plaguefather had grown to his larger stature during their battle, every trained step that Kaija took had deformed the earth; upturning dirt, leaving craters in the ground, and otherwise adding to the damages. It was beyond her control, but also a clear illustration of why she preferred to best her opponents with skill as opposed to raw power.
"You're responsible for any damages you cause to the Arboretum."
The Goliath Arms may not have been the cause of her contribution to the damages, but Axum's words held true all the same. Her dagger would see more use before she left today.
"Yeah, I'll take care of it," she answered Gaige, releasing the blade of plasma once more for a less violent purpose, "Don't worry, Liz. I have no intention of leaving this place as it is."
She began to run the blade near the ground over areas that had been drowned in toxins and acid. The heat emanating from the plasma would work to vaporize most of the toxins at the surface that hadn't already drained into the ground, but she wouldn't be able to completely clear the plague without buring away all of the flora in the area with it. Still, it was a start.
"Is everyone alright?" Uma asked everyone in the area, hoping that she'd only receive honest answers is she got any replies at all.
Slowly as he was let down, Septimus slid from her hand. Fatigue was not something that he experienced in the same way as a human. He did not grow tired from movement;. His muscles did not ache. Only, he starved and hungered for simply more and more blood.
His armor was in tatters, He'd managed to conceal his smaller firearms and weapons in sheathes but a majority of the rest of his gear way out. The chainmail in his armor, rusted at the seams and in essence, the armor was withered enough to had become undone, leaving Septimus half naked in response to it's corrosive properties. Most everything he'd acquired would need to be remade.
"I have seen better days." He looked towards Pollux. "Though clearly, there are others more ravaged than I."
He walked but his body would not recuperate further without blood. A lack of pain seemed to work against him, for he could not feel the cracks in his bone. How ironic it seemed to him, that now he was the physical lesser than a normal human. He could not move beyond walking speed and oddly enough, he often had the mind of a shambling corpse when he was this thirsty. And yet....here the beast did not gnaw at his mind or drive him to get more blood, directly or indirectly. It was...quiet. He felt at peace, among the embers being created, as he looked out beyond the damages to what of the Arboretum remained. It seemed as though at least the damage hadn't reached the tree, at least.
Yet, as Kaija purified the landscape with her fiery blade, he couldn't help but feel the situation solemn. "It is no fault of yours." He speaks to the hero Gaige. "There was little you could have done to forsee this or to know that this place would be the starting point for it's apocalypse. These attacks. Tragedies, they occur randomly all about the world."
He looks down to the ground, seeing his hard forged blade, broken in half by combination of rot and the bullet hole he put into it. He reaches down, and picks it up to examine it. Thoroughly rusted, and the other half could have been sent miles away by the explosion. Or it could have been melted by Kaija's plasma blade. It didn't really matter. He could make another. A better one. And it was a small price to pay in vanquishing the plaguefather, even if it only helped him ascertain it's nature. Piece of his armor started to fall off and he ripped them away as they feel to the ground as piles of plastic sludge.
"This thing was no different. Even now after it's death, we hardly understand it. You did what you could and the creature has been repelled. It may not feel like a Victory but this thing could have threatened the world. Even this" His eyes looked around and he choose his words. "Was no small feat. Even if at great price."
He blinked, his Pale Icy blue eyes looking upon her with a neutral expression, one accustomed to tragedy. The beast lay beneath them, but for now, it was asleep for reasons he did not understand. But it seemed to have to do with this garden.
The question about how people were seemed to Lizzy directed to everyone else as opposed to herself. Of course Lizzy was okay physically her mech and defenses helped her endure most attacks. Emotionally however it had been to much for quite awhile. Weighed down by what she had considered as countless losses even if others didn't think them so. "Thanks" she remarked first to Uma who was helping with some of the damage control. A smile toward the rest meant to show her thanks silently to them as well. Taking a second Lizzy retrieved her medkit from Mjolnir and moved toward the brothers. Antitoxins were stored to a limited degree of course but some was there as well as the more obtainable and expected needs like gauze, bandages, things to help with burns, morphine, adrenaline and peroxide. She wasn't a surgeon herself and her field medic training was light at best. She tried to have what she could however for a situation. "Use what you need, let me know if there is anything else I can do."
"Appreciate it but what I did wasn't enough." Lizzy remarked appreciative of the words used but herself not able to consider it as a win or triumph. "Reports at Knox showed you with Razor" she turned a scalpel from the medkit to have it's handle turned toward the vampire. "I'd prefer the wrist over the throat but do what you need to recover. Can't give as much as someone with a healing factor of course but please let me help." Her free hand moving to pull hair to one side incase the throat was chosen. Didn't like the idea of a bunch of blood loss but seeing to the help those around her needed mattered more.
As Kaija predicted, Castor made his way directly to Pollux's side. His shirt was gone completely, but his pants remained, as did the injured brother's. They were built of sturdy stuff, made for combat between and with gods. They could survive a little weathering.
He forced himself not to sprint over the withered earth, but couldn't quite bring himself to restrict his movements to a walk. He had seen his brother collapse like that twice before - once, in combat, when they were both young warriors. Once, when Castor was sent to recontain him. One had been a real injury. One had been a ruse.
Which it was now, Castor didn't know, and Castor didn't care. The fever was slowly dying out of his own body; Pollux would take a while longer to heal, considering the multiple points of exposure and the fact that he had been directly hit by the blast of the Plaguefather's explosive exit. The King's Spade knelt beside the Club and reached down to place his hand on the boy's shoulder, that boy who had played soldier, cutting down hundreds of enemies that should not exist. He murmured in the Old Tongue - that language they shared. He spoke comforting words, even though he knew that either Pollux could not hear them, or would ignore them. Even in this state, the warrior was still a warrior. He would not be treated as a child. He would refuse that.
As the chrome hand touched the shoulder, a black spine erupted from the scarring there. Castor didn't even flinch, and as the iron touched the arm, it dissolved into the same black dust as all of Pollux's weapons did. White leaked with red from the wound, creating a sickening orange pus rolling sticky down the man's arm. The man was otherwise unresponsive.
Castor looked up at Gaige as she approached. She looked small, young to be on the battlefield. Frail, even. The patch over her missing eye seemed out of place on the kind face as she set down a medical kit. Castor nodded to her with a small, grateful smile, even though he had no idea how, exactly, to use its contents, and even if he did, he knew he wouldn't need it. Still he smiled, because he was grateful to the kind young woman, even though there was so much pain in her visible eye, so much sadness.
"Thank you," he said, and watched her return to the others. This place meant something to them, perhaps home, perhaps refuge. He knew its history and its sole resident. He knew what would be lost if the Arboretum died completely. And so he let them be, because it was not his home. It was not his place to join them whose home it was.
A movement caught his eye, the last remnant of his own home rolling himself onto his back with a cough. The eyes fluttered open, but Castor couldn't tell what they saw, if anything at all. The brown eyes were bloodshot, the scleras yellowish. He couldn't feel the heat of his brother's body with his own cold metal arms, but he knew from those eyes that he was more than feverish. Gently, he got one arm under the sick man's neck and shoulders, propping him up and placing one hand over his heart. Even though he couldn't feel the body heat, he felt the pulse, something much harder and faster than would otherwise be. It was a good sign, though. It meant he was healing.
Pollux stared silently at the group in the distance, the three fellow-combatants. The vampire, the girl, the giant. Each was occupied with their own business. The Kaiju slayer questioned them. The Left Hand felt the vampire's eyes on him for a fleeting moment, then gone. He only heard his own blood in his ears, and his brother's incredibly cold hands and arms. The bell... his hand twitched towards the red-wrapped object. He felt Castor's free arm reach over and move the item out of the way, murmuring something unintelligible. Reassurances, no doubt. Castor could never see him as anything more than a child, especially when he was wounded like this. It made his blood boil even hotter than the fever.
Before he knew what he was thinking, he rolled his body towards the King's Right Hand, eyes drifting closed for half a moment as he concentrated his energy. Then they snapped open, and a black sword, hidden from the others' view by Castor's own body, erupted from his arm into the man's chest, piercing the lungs before any cry could emerge. Wild, fevered brown eyes met the shocked blue ones, blue eyes that should not have been so surprised, but were.
"Foolish," was the only word that escaped the fevered man's lips.
Not only would the blade be lethal to an average man, it was also drawn from his blood, still poisoned with the Plaguefather's disease. That fire burning in Pollux would find its way through his counterpart very shortly, further incapacitating him. The wilder brother then shoved the calmer off his body, forcing him onto his back, hilt protruding from his chest like a sick black flag of victory. It had not gone through completely; the metal on his back had ensured that much, but it was still lodged deeply inside the body, now stiff with shock as it tried to heal.
Pollux managed to stumble to his feet. Even if they had seen him, they wouldn't know what was happening, those three. They wouldn't understand. He found his balance and formed a new blade in his hand, somehow maintaining focus on the first so that his brother would not rise to fight him. The wild, feverish eyes now searched the group for a reaction, not leaving them as he bent over and picked up the red-wrapped bell. It was heavy, but somehow, lighter than he remembered. He held it under his arm as one would a football, holding the long black weapon ready in case he was challenged. The same hand holding the sword touched the visibly corroded metal collar around his neck, then reached a few fingers underneath.
With two fingers, ACF-404 breached containment completely, and turned to leave, not expecting to go unchallenged, but with the trump card of the bell still tucked under his too-warm left arm. Let them come, but he could threaten them with the return of the massive beast. If it wasn't clear, perhaps it would be, soon enough. After all, what better distraction than summoning a monster worse than himself to keep the enemy warriors occupied while he completed his escape?
Is it really so obvious? Am I so disconnect as to be unaware? If she figured out nature, how many others....?
It didn't matter, really. At the end of the day, the Fort Knox bank robbers were thoroughly routed and their heist failed. He hadn't killed them but the threat of them appeared to be all but eliminated. Razor was no captive but she was bound by her own moral code and to Septimus, she almost made up for it in the obligation she had chosen to take. He could use her to do more good, rather than punish her. But with the gain of her, came the cost. If the world didn't know of the existence of beings like Septimus, than so would others. Some may not take so kindly to that.
But that is a problem for another day.
The more immediate problem brought forth before him was one of hunger. The clouds of Noxious fumes may have done well to blot out the sun and ironically make him less susceptible to harm. But they were imminently clearing. To the next and more important was the matter of the beast, which despite it's current docility, would make him feed again. This he knew. There was no real way around it. To not accept her help would be foolish.
She seems guilty even. Despite her greater power, she wasn't able. Perhaps being able to give in this way will make her feel better even.
A part of him wondered these were the beast thoughts, his own or an amalgamation of the two. But it didn't matter. At the end of the day, he must feed.
It was rare that he would talk about it, but to draw someone, anyone in and have them not thrashing in his arms, to experience the warmth of life that he did not have, was a sensation hard to describe. Like being cold and to desire a blanket. To bite someone's neck in the typical, closer was preferred. He took the scalpel and lowered himself as he sat on both knees beneath her. His hold on her was gentle and his cuts very precise and more or less with little pain. He knew where to form a small incision along her ulnar artery and it wouldn't be too soon before she would begin to bleed generously. As the blood would begin to trickle, he did not allow it to get to the point where it would trickle and a single drop would be wasted.
The stinger was not required and he need only use his tongue, running along her arm briefly before his head hovered over her wound. Lips wrapped around to cut as he began to draw the blood out through her wound, at a gradual pace rather than the faster one needed by the neck. His eyes looked down towards the ground, half open.
Osteoporosis. She is physically frail....and seemingly emotionally as well. She has been through much.
She tasted sweet, but he only withdrew a pint from her. The same approximate amount one gives at a blood donation. This was not the kiss and he did not need to bite her, though traces of his venom rest on his saliva that gave a euphoric sensation that sent dopamine tingling from the point of the wound, but it was not as nearly as strong as it would have been if he had bitten her. Not unlike a dog, he licked along the wound to quickly seal it. Then, he rose again, borrowing from the medkit to lightly wrap her arm.
"Thank you. What you gave was enough."
His wounds began to heal slowly, impeded in the sunlight. But he moved with newfound vigor.
"I can make some arrangements for supplies. I already know of the plants her. It will take a little time, but we can honestly start to replant soon."
He looked at the ground at first...and then his eyes fell upon the Bell. The one Castor held.
"What do you plan to do with that? It should be destroyed. If possible."
Kaija simply shook her head as she watched Lizzy let the stranger bit into her arm. If the origins of the stranger's power were unclear before, she was certain what he was now. She wasn't surprised by Gaige's generous behavior nor the vampire's strange nature; after all, she too was something normally looked down upon, hated and feared by mankind. What did surprise her the fact that they had a vampire amongst them in broad daylight. Well, a vampire who managed to maintain its structural integrity and not burn up into dust in an instant. Of all the things that she didn't know about him, that was the one thing that she was actually curious to know; the rumors about his kind that everyone had apparently gotten wrong.
Maybe she'd ask him about it sometime later.
In the meantime, she continued to burn away the hazardous material. At least, until she heard the familiar sound of a blade piercing flesh and a body falling to the ground. Her eyes turned away from Gaige and Septimus to find one of the strangers lying on the ground, bleeding, while the other walked away with a bell in his hand. In truth... Kaija wasn't overly concerned with what she saw. The bell itself, to Kaija, was no different than a bone or limb cast aside by a kaiju that she had slain; something of no value or concern to her now that it no longer sought to spill her blood. It wasn't like she never kept a trinket or two from some of the more impactful battles in her life at the back of her closet. She heard Septimus' question to the man who had just stabbed his presumed ally but honestly didn't really care.
Her mission was to fight alongside Lizzy to protect a home that her engineer had loved with all of her heart. Whether or not her mission was successful was debatable, but the fact of the matter was... her mission had nothing to do with a tiny little dirty bell or a couple of strangers that she doubted she'd ever see again. He could go wherever he wanted at this point so long as he didn't cause her any trouble. Her focus, at the moment, was to help clean this place up and try to undo the damages that, well... both of the kaiju there that day had caused; intentional or not. She turned her attention back to Gaige.
"Hey Liz, I'll burn away as much of this crap as I can, but you might wanna take the vampire's offer. If they don't know how to work the land, I'll teach em'. I did grow up doing just this sort of thing after all," she was, of course, referring to the distant past where she lived on farmland in Burtelov, "You should see if that the stranger over there is okay, too." she gestured towards Castor, who was currently incapacitated.
Gaige and Septimus might find it odd how calm Kaija was witnessing a man get stabbed in cold blood and his attacker just walk off but... Kaija couldn't see how getting excited over it would do anyone any good at the moment. Well, there was that and the fact that she was used to seeing that sort of thing. If the man with the bell caused any trouble, she'd deal with that trouble. If he managed to bring back the Plaguefather, well, she had already dealt with him once, knew what she would be dealing with, and had a pretty good idea of how to get rid of him again. All things said...
Kaija simply felt like she had more pressing matters to concern herself with.
It was a odd sensation to Lizzy having someone kneel before her, a moment followed up by the surgical slash into her arm and lips pressed to the wound. An instant seemingly gentle and maybe evene respectful then turned to harm and what was easily depicted as a monsterish action. The pain didn't hurt to much and something about the creature seemed to treat the wound naturally to be less. Almost more like a drug or other sensation that might be easy to get addicted to as opposed to the life draining imagery portrayed. She didn't think the man would kill her though so she just did her best to ignore the warmth she felt. Her feelings on Mitsuri not as easy to push back, she was just a gamer with weak bones deep down she often felt. With all the tech and armor all the possibilities she had it helped to build herself up. By rushing off to help everyone she could she stopped thinking about how little at times she thought of herself. Moments like this ruined that image however, she wasn't able to do enough.
Every victory felt hollow, how many might have been sparred in Grimm failed to the state it ended up in when rebuild and it's inevitable collapse. All her effort to assist the Gods dropped in Nebraska was for her overshadowed by the two kills obtained in the fight by to many hands on the scene. She had helped France repeatedly but that didn't mean she could help the alchemy and science augmented puppets of people that were her enemies when the fighting was done. They had done a lot for Washington and Fukuoka, her and so many others but it wasn't without deaths. After the large battle in an alternate world she had failed to be there in the end do to her wounds. To her this meant she had literally failed a world, at least however it came to an end and she was back here. Home, but now she'd failed to be enough for that to. Every loss was a defeat but for her every win was just below the achievement she wanted of herself.
"I suppose there was a reason for that. Where should we take him however and how can we reach you for a report on what you find?" She wasn't sure why one mysterious man stabbed another or where he would go with the bell. Fact everyone worked together to contain the incident however gave the pilot some faith. Question was just who they were and when would information be shared? As she asked the question drones moved to see if they could help the wounded figure. She wasn't a doctor by any means but the field medic training one could find at UNKD mixed with just online researching she figured enough she should be able to make the wounded stable. She wasn't going to contest the desire to leave with the bell however, was enough damage done to her home today.
"Thanks" she remarked both to the man bandaging her own arm after having licked it clean and her friend who'd helped her and scorched what disease Lizzy herself didn't have the heart for. "Between us, the usual ground keepers, and Kaede I'm sure it'll be just a matter of time." Perhaps mentioning a presumed dead teen was a weird thing to add to such a remark. Lizzy just thought her friend as a tree now though, an awkward thing but not to fantastic in a world drowning in weird and amazing things. "Anything else you need?" The question one made while somewhat defeated still in tone her score never as high as she liked but the loss always driving home more.
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