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

And So It Burns

No Caption Provided

The night was cool with the wet chill of a night sea breeze as city lights glowed sickly through the layer of smog that settled among the gleaming glass towers and grimy public housing towers. Howling sirens and screams, the crackle of burning abandoned buildings and staccato pops of gunfire had all fallen silent for Gothic had been, and still was, evacuated.

First responders were gone. Fire. Ambulance. Police. Gone. Public services were gone. Trash pickup. Public sewage workers. Power grid electricians. 911 operators were gone. The families of police officers were gone. Entire gangs had vanished from the streets. Vigilantes were even scarce. The lifeblood of the city had been drained for its people were absent.

And in that absence lay opportunity. Opportunity for mutant kind. Ivana didn't intend to let it pass her by.

She had slipped into the city through an abandoned sewage tunnel the night before. Slept for eight hours on a foam covered pallet inside a shipping crate on the Gothic docks. Double checked her gear. Ate breakfast.

As the day had passed she had been careful to stay out of sight. Satellites were everywhere these days. A network of shipping crates had been created by cutting through the walls and floors of the crates, installing ladders and doors and an entrance way to the undercity; Gothic's old sewer system, long abandoned due to lack of funds.

Through that tunnel the former Shogun transported gear on the cargo rack of a four wheeler. Boxes of ammunition. Grenades. Ceramic and steel inserts for vests and replacement kevlar vests. A few high powered rifles and light machine guns. Pistols. And brick after brick of semtex.

She worked alone. Secrecy and surprise were her greatest weapons. When she was done the entire complex was stocked with with munitions, medical supplies and MREs. It was also rigged to blow with over two hundred pounds of plastic explosives.

The sun hung low in the sky. Ivana ate supper and took a nap. She wanted to be at her peak.

Then she descended into the sewers again and slipped unseen through the underbelly of the semi-abandoned city. Moving through the damp, cold dark until she reached an abandoned office building in the heart of Gothic's decimated financial sector.

There she met with a team of teenage couriers. Orphans. Street urchins. Runaways. Homeless and abandoned by authority figures, victimized by the brutality of life in Gothic they were each susceptible to the radical creed of the extremist mutant movement. Each knew they city like the back of their hand and each owned (or stole) a motorbike.

The first message was hand delivered to @sionnach001, @dreadpool10, @pre-mortem and @alpha_dog.

Join me at at the burned out 7-11 on the intersection of 22nd and Dogwood.

The second message was sent to @jason_ford. It was a single USB drive that had never been connected to any device with a connection to the internet to ensure secrecy. On the drive was an satellite map of Gothic City with various choke points and flanking routes mapped.

Red Mask. It is time. Intel show city soon come under attack. This attack draw out defenders. Routes listed in 'MAP' file; flank defenders when they arrive and pin them down. Attrition is the order of the day; loses will be worth the battle when the Ghost Crew runs Gothic.

Last, but never least was her secret weapon. @satar. Infected with stolen nanotechnology during the last attack in Gothic City the nanites had been triggering an obsession with Gothic City and fanning the flames until it transformed into an insane lust to visit violence and carnage upon the city.

Satar was a terrible weapon. Even to Ivana. But the destiny of the mutant race required sacrifice. Nothing was free. Nothing. And so Ivana pressed the button the nanite control device, turning the nanites to maximum setting and locking them there as the device self destructed, circuits frying.

It felt as if she had summoned the devil. Perhaps she had.

Now there was no turning back.

Ivana took a deep breath, stomp the device into shattered chunks and dropped back into the abandoned sewers, moving at a jog through the undercity and emerging in the back room of a burned out 7-11. There she checked her weapons a final time and awaited the arrival of her allies.

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#2 Posted by Pre-Mortem (199 posts) - - Show Bio


The Underground Opportunist was linked in with the rest of the group, locked, loaded, and prepared for a war. While the rest of their assemblage had their own tasks, of assassination and reclamation, the Renegade Remnant had a different one.

  • Fact: The Underground, currently the base of operations of the Strigidae, and their allies, used to belong to a hero group of the same name.

  • Fact: The Underground had fought several so-called villains while they operated.

  • Fact: There were always 100 Strigidae, no more, no less.

  • Fact: One of said Strigidae had operated in Gothic, before fighting the Underground and losing.

  • Fact: The Hundredth Strigidae, for that is who he was, had been dealing in Konite before his capture.

  • Fact: After the collapse of Empire International, orchestrated at the hands of Argus, Konite has been in short supply, while demand is as high as ever.

  • Fact: When Gothic was evacuated, some prisoners remained.

  • Fact: Much of Gothic's subway system has been flooded.

  • Fact: The Underground was equipped with many vehicles, including a rail rocket.

  • Fact: The Gothic subway system runs directly underneath a prison.

  • Fact: The Rail Rocket is sealed, and can move underwater at reduced capacity.

  • Fact: The Underground has detailed maps of the Gothic subway system.

  • Fact: The tunnel underneath the prison is not, in fact, fully flooded.

  • Fact: The plan was clear.

No Caption Provided

Pre-Mortem slung on his kevlar vest, a jacket over it, and slid his HUD goggles over his eyes. He grabbed several weapons from the gear lockers and several other pieces of equipment that he would need to free the Stochastic Savant. He threw the bag full of gear and his weapons onto the passenger seat of the rail rocket, strapped in, and fired it up. The goggles, with the subway maps downloaded into their systems, mapped the path, guiding the rocket through the tunnels. It was surreal, being underwater in an enclosed space, but they were out quickly, and underneath the prison. Maps of it were also downloaded into the goggles, so finding Savant and getting out would be no problem.

The Renegade Remnant opened a door and stepped out, shouldering his bag and guns, before climbing atop the rocket, retrieving several devices from his bag, and laying flat on his back. First, he grabbed a landmine-like explosive, with a handle on one side. He grasped it, and pressed the other end into the ceiling of the tunnel, but floor of the prison. He twisted the handle, and an explosion burst forth from the other end, leaving a hole, but not harming the Underground Opportunist. He then clambered through it, calling up a mini-map of the prison. One highlighted area showed the location of the target, and one showed Pre-Mortem.

There were no guards left here, having been evacuated during the US's invasion. But there were a few prisoners, those not worth saving from the battle. They shouted and threatened and begged to be freed, but the Renegade Remnant ignored them. It was up to the Strigidae to decide what to do with them, once they ruled the city.

When Pre-Mortem reached the cell where the Hundredth Strigidae sat, defeated, he stopped. "Kellan Savant. Your Strigidae siblings have sent me to save you. Gothic City is soon to fall, and you are needed." And he retrieved a special blade from his bag and began slicing through the bars of the cell, tossing the broken metal poles into the center of the prison. "Let's go."


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#3 Edited by Lichter (5808 posts) - - Show Bio


Castle Lichter, Switzerland

Without a two-piece suit to restrict his movement, Klaus had become far more comfortable in the past few days. Satisfied with the condition of the States following his tenure as Director of the CIA, he'd left as quickly as he'd come, the changes he'd made sufficient to ward off another invasion from beyond the stars. Domestically secure as well as internationally powerful, his dragon of a nation would do its job well, in the future. Should he please, his focus could now be directed elsewhere.

Ironically, he instead chose once more to fixate on the bizarre machinations of none other than the notorious Ivana Strigidae, an exquisite killer who'd yet to conclusively prove friend or foe. She had her own agenda, which was respectable, and while it'd recently brought her into conflict with the Delver of Secrets' other allies, the Equalizers, he felt he had no personal problem with the way she conducted business. Regardless, she begged to be monitored, what with her cryptic statement about "making him unhappy" in Siberia; he'd allotted time throughout his day to periodically check her location. How? The communicator he'd given her over a year ago. True to her word, she always seemed to have it on her.

Gothic, he thought, scowling. Only two weeks before had it been officially deemed "reclaimed" by the United States, and while it was still relatively uninhabited, he felt in what passed for his soul that she'd be somehow interfering with the status of America's tumor. She'd been there before, after all, and seemingly without reason; reconnaissance? It would make sense. He rose, green cloak folding around his shoulders where there'd previously been only a shirt. Beneath the verdant shroud, silver-lined armor, summoned through a technological aether from his armory.

He would not call first.

Ivana Strigidae's location

However alarming his sudden appearance might be, he had little concern with regards to surprising the ex-Shogun. He'd neglected conflict with her once before, and she knew his cloak, even if she hadn't seen the mask underneath; that, too, would remain concealed, a shadow falling over the silver visage as his hood, lowered over his head, obscured his features entirely. Only the gleam of the gauntlets could be ascertained in the low light, along with the shimmering outline of his cape, which was draped over his plated shoulders. He'd teleported to her position with neither sound nor flash of light, simply materializing from the shadows surrounding her.

The cloak masked him like a shroud, hiding the armor; his voice, however, would be recognizable, if not slightly distorted by the imposing mask.

"Ivana, dear, what is it with you and Gothic City? Need I be...concerned?"

A ripple in the air emanated from beneath the robes; the gauntlets pulsated gently with every word. He waited.

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#4 Edited by VictorAdams (158 posts) - - Show Bio

Gothic City-6:30 pm

I sit, hands crossed miles below the city, below my city. I had an ominous feeling ever since I saw those yellow eyes like, something was watching me, constantly watching. Those eyes made me look over my shoulder, they made me double check every room to ensure emptiness. Those yellow eyes had seared themselves into my mind ever since that day in Gothic, now my eyes have become akin to those. My eyes watch over this city from miles below or miles above, why...because it's streets are my flesh. It's waters are my blood, it's people are my cells, and I feel an infection growing. Harmful bacteria from a foreign source have invaded my body. How do I know? I don't but, the open ears of James Walker have heard the whispers. Ya see, the streets have a mouth of their own and it's real hard to get them to shut up. Whispers of troubled teens breaking their daily rounds and rats digging holes. To the average mind those were just words but, to the mind of a man like myself they were clues. My vigilance over these streets was at an all time high but, whatever this disease was it had gone unchecked for to long. Nobody else had seen this coming and if they had they hadn't done anything about it, they instead hid in fear. Me however I have something they don't, wisdom. They rely on their fancy satellites but, no hunk of floating metal could ever supply the same knowledge the streets could.

"Lets get busy"

Gothic City-6:45

Preparations had been made, information double checked, and gear fully stocked. I was as ready as I would ever be for what this beast would be packing. I stand looking over my wide array of vehicles, all of them but The Stallion had been emptied. Before tonight I put in calls to a contact of mine, told him I was gonna need replacements, told him I would pay full price. He kindly accepted which meant, that everything was going to go according to plan. With a powerful swing I straddled the Alabaster Motorcycle and took firm grip of her handles. The key slipped into the ignition, a lone white thumb went through the motions. Fuel petcock on, ignition key on, kill switch set to run, start button pushed. The engine roared to life like the beast she was and with a loud exhale rubber began to burn.

I zoomed through the network of tunnels I had established underground, each one connecting to a portion of my property. Tonight I was headed towards the abandoned apartment building closest to my target location. Some info I picked up on one of those teens, I had about thirty minutes until he crossed paths with me, I wanted to make sure he saw me coming. Outside the building the bricks would begin to move and slide making an openeing large enough for his young eyes to see the bright white lights coming towards him. He sped up but, his street bike wouldn't be fast enough to outrun my own. My tires touched Gothics streets and his eyes looked at those tires, watched them crash into the front end of his own bike and rip the aluminum to shreds. The sudden impact caused his vehicle to stop but his body flew forward sliding across the streets.

In a dismount I made my way towards him, road rash covered most of his arms and face. He tried to speak, tried to beg for mercy but I don't do mercy. White fingers wrap around torn flesh, digging into muscle tissue and forcing out a scream.


No Caption Provided

Even through the pain he refused to talk so, I slam my feet against his knee caps forcing the cartilage to shatter. Following that he tries to crawl away, he doesn't seem to get that it just makes it more fun. Once gain straddling my white steed I rev up the v10, that same beastly roar comes from her muffler. Those wide and terrified eyes look back towards me, those beads of sweat start falling faster and faster in sync with the movements of my wheels. Growing ever closer he starts to panic, starts to talk, talks about the 7-11 that's all I need to know. Without even giving his cries of pity a chance I stain the black rubber of my tires with his blood.

''Gerald the Abandoned 7-11 on Dogwood, lets get this started."

Intersection of 22nd and Dogwood 7:00

The bike cruised it's way there, ripping around corners with loud shrieks and black skid marks. Each turn bringing me closer to my final goal, soon enough it was in sight. A rage washed over me, the foreign bacteria was right there just waiting to get flushed out, so that's what I would do. Without hesitation I keep my path, not slowing down I hope the overbearing roar of that v10 calls attention to me. I hope all eyes are on the last face these b*****ds are ever gonna see. In seconds the black rubber tears through what remains of the front door and in a near perfect dismount I land on my feet. The bike slams itself through the remnants of shelves and into the bricks on the wall before coming to a stop.

"You flucks think you can just hide in my city, nah I hear everything"

"And I heard you loud and clear"
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#5 Posted by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio


Five minutes after the initial break-in...

No Caption Provided

The soft thudding of boots announced the Emerald Archer's arrival, having been alerted to the explosion via sensors still stored in the US database. It was a very unique prison: housing one of the world's most notorious villains. It had been on a government watch-list of areas located in Gothic that contained assets and prisioners awaiting transfer elsewhere.

A team was already stationed in Gothic but due to the metahuman nature of threats, were not authorized to engage unless a metahuman associate with accompanying them. Just to be on the safe side. These were not trained Navy Seals or R.E.D soldiers, instead Force Recon, far less equipped to deal with a foe beyond one wielding an AK-47. For all intents and purposes, Kurt was alone.

"Fan out, secure the area and locate Kellan Savant's holding cell. Lethal force authorized to terminate an escape."

Kurt ordered as the men dissipated into the maze-like prison. Now for some less conventional means. With a twitch of the finger, Kurt manifested an arrow and thrust it onto the ground, the energy within the arrow released as it shot out and send a pulse through the entire area, feeding a sonar/radar like image straight into Kurt's optical HUD via contact lense.

The subway....

"They are escaping via the subway, alpha team, cut of all conventional exists to the building, bravo team, go to Savants cell, charlie team, proceed to location being marked on your maps..."

As he spoke, Kurt proceeded to the broken portion of the subway, hoping to ambush the escapees.

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#6 Edited by deactivated-59c716930b8a6 (9227 posts) - - Show Bio

Join me at at the burned out 7-11 on the intersection of 22nd and Dogwood.

Mighty convenient! That intersection's close by, Talvaran thought as he crumpled the paper, a hand lowering to his belt as he glanced over the perilous edge of the towering rooftop. He withdrew his silver grapnel from his utility belt, steam hissing out from the barrel as he fired its line at an even taller building several rooftops over. Cool wind whipped past his masked countenance as he zipped through the air, the line's claw disconnecting from the rooftop as his cape went rigid, enabling a swift glide towards the designated meeting place.

As he pursued Ivana's scent, gliding above the silent streets like a bat, he couldn't help but run over his musings of what state the city would be in if the Stochastic Samurai succeeded in her clandestine takeover. Would it be in a better state than before, with mutants rising to the occasion of infiltrating its infrastructure? Was it worth the rigorous test of his own morality simply to have an ally in Ivana? Questions like this had run over in Percy's head countless time, and still were without definitive answers.

Did he admire the work the US Government had done in maintaining a secure and competent nation? Yes. Did he wish to go out of his way to deconstruct the work that had been put into restoring Gothic to the states, while the city was defenseless? No. However, was Ivana an ally worth such endeavors? Yes. Maybe. Probably. Possibly?

I really don't know.

Maybe this meeting will help me find out? In fact, it'd better.

The Meeting Place

@lichter: @strigidae_23:

The Arcani Architect had soon arrived at the burned out 7-11 designated by Ivana, far faster than he'd realized. His arrival was soundless, his presence all but hidden in the dark's embrace. His arms retreated into the folds of his cape, a small sliver of light from above revealing the skull leering out of his white hood. The sharp lenses of his mask were white as he surveyed the two before him. One, Percy identified as non other than Ivana herself. The other? He couldn't so much as make out the visage beneath the man's hood.

"And you are?" Talvaran spoke, addressing the man who's metal gauntlets and cape were only made visible by a low glimmer of light.

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


Join me at at the burned out 7-11 on the intersection of 22nd and Dogwood.

'Bout time.

Dog had never been particularly good at waiting. When a throat presented itself, his instinct was always to tear it out at the first opportunity, and there had never been such a massive, beautifully exposed throat as Gothic City. The place was a ghost town, with anyone with any sense and the means to do so having high-tailed it before or during the most recent brawl that had rocked it to its core. He'd sat that one out; not a chance, this time.

Crumpling the small scrap of paper his message had been written on, he tossed it back to the waiting street urchin who'd delivered it. "Ya know what to do." With nose wrinkled in distaste, the young street dweller proceeded to chew up and swallow the paper. "Don't gimme that look; we both know that's probably the best meal ya had all week."

With that, he was off. Dog was perfectly capable of moving with great stealth, but he didn't bother, now. Things were about to get really noisy, really quick, he was willing to bet, and besides, he was tired of skulking. Having one of the few do-gooders left in the battered city try to stop him would have probably improved his mood. He clambered up the side of the nearest building and took the most direct route to the meeting site, dashing across roofs and leaping from one dilapidated structure to another, using his claws to dig into the sides of the buildings when his prodigious strength wouldn't allow him to leap to the roof.

He reached the 7-11 quickly, dropping from a adjoining building two stories higher and through the hollow frame of a skylight that some delusional owner must have installed in an attempt to cheer the place up. Landing in a crouch, he stood and regarded Ivana and the others assembled, before glancing at the empty, long-looted remains of the store's cooler.

"I only take jobs fer beer or blood these days," he growled with a wicked grin, "and it looks like the beer's all gone."

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#8 Posted by Sionnach001 (121 posts) - - Show Bio


Sean, Sionnach, The Fox, stepped heavily off of the freighter and down the gang plank, peering sullenly as any other merchant sailor might around the docks of Gothic City harbor. A watch cap pulled down over his tossled blond hair, a pea coat covering his lean body, and two duffels slung over a shoulder. He blended in perfectly in with the rest of the sailors, chiefs, fishermen, welders, pilots, and the like that inhabited the docks every gesture, shuffle, and glance calculated to blend in seamlessly. He even checked in to receive his pay, then headed out into the city to do what all weary sailors did, spend some of it, because that's what shore leaved sailors did.

Sean did a bit of a look around before checking into one of the plethora of seedy hotels in this scabby part of town. In fact, he wasn't clear at all what the Strigidae wanted with this entire scutters of a town, it looked like a bad waste of skin to him. However, they'd done clean by him, and he'd no love for humans being in charge of any damn thing anymore, Sean would damn well do right by Ivana and the crew. So, he checked into the skeeve of a hotel and laid his kit on the stained mattress.

Without waste of time, but exquisite attention to detail, he got into his gear. Form fitting flexible, but reactive armored body suit, with ballistic nylon tabi style reinforced sole foot gear. Nano infused stealth/armor weave jumpsuit, festooned with dozens of pockets to hold gear and, there was no other word for it...booty. Utility belt/climbing harness that secured his hips, back, and shoulders. Finally, a long coat made of a similar but more dense and more armored material. Inside the clothing was strapped a weapons vest, and leg sheathes on both legs which contained two dozen tungsten/adamantium throwing knives, tungsten throwing spikes, and ten air foil throwing grenades. A silenced 9mm pistol was holstered on his left hip, and three magazines of ammunition were secured on the right leg sheathe.

The knock he'd been expecting finally came at the door, he slipped the pistol into his hand and next to his leg, before he spied the scruffy young man, and deftly took the note from his fingers.

Join me at at the burned out 7-11 on the intersection of 22nd and Dogwood.

With that, he did a little very peculiar mental calculation and stepped into the nearest shadow, moments later he emerged from a shadow at the noted convenience store where he found a good position to watch the entire space, where he squatted invisibly into another shadow to watch and wait.

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#9 Posted by Last_Guardian (32162 posts) - - Show Bio


No Caption Provided

I whispered, the tug of a palpable disturbance in the Force attempting to pull me off-course.

"I have a mission to do, damn it."But still, it remained, pulling at me, urging me to go where it wanted me to go, where it needed me to go.

"Haven O'Shea,"I uttered, this time, a little louder, a little more forcefully, affirming the fact that I was here for a reason. Last night, I had promised a good friend that I'd find his daughter, a daughter that had gone missing amidst the chaos of the United States' reclamation of Gothic City two weeks ago.

Clad in my stealth, navy blue-and-grey suit, I leap across the broken rooftops of the slumbering city, stopping at regular intervals to telepathically scan the area. Depending on how strong Haven's Force signature was, if she was within a mile of me, I'd be able to pinpoint her location within seconds. Yet, after seven hours and forty-five minutes of this, I kept getting...nothing.


A screeching of tires and the smell of burnt rubber permeated the air around me. Someone was in a rush. My curiosity piqued, I looked down to the street below to a see a motorcycle zooming through the streets. The white vehicle and its white-clad rider strongly stood out against the utter blackness of the dead city, and it was in this moment that the disturbance in the Force was more apparent than ever before. It desperately wanted me to follow him.

"Never ignore the call of the Force."

I suddenly and conveniently remember reading in one of the many sacred Guardian scriptures that I'd manage to get my hands on during my time in outer space.

"Fine!" I answer, through gritted teeth and a frustrated expression as I set out in the direction of the motorcyclist, falling into my Force stealth mode to avoid being detected by conventional means. Perhaps following the call of Force might end up leading me to the girl, though, in a city like this, I doubt anything would ever be that easy.

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#10 Edited by Satar (2217 posts) - - Show Bio

@pre-mortem: @lichter: @victoradams: @dreadpool10: @sionnach001: @alpha_dog: @last_guardian: @strigidae_23:

In the days before, a destructive obsession burned deeper and deeper in his psyche. Whispers echoed in his mind. He didn't know why. And he needed no reason.. only that Gothic City was his to put to death. Fires still burned, scorching what was near and singing what was far. Toxic smoke hung thick in the air, hovering all about like a prominent force of nature. Of the civilians that dared remain, there were few. And even fewer dared to walk the streets where the devil strode. In the city's southern corner, Satar's Martyrs roamed. Soldiers of the 3rd World who wore orange and white as their colors, and goggles, masks and ballistic armor as their apparel. They were well armed, their 'Ragnarok' carbines were unlike any weapon known to the modern soldier.

Perched atop rooftops, hiding in alleyways and any apartment that held them, the Martyrs took aim, and at the sight of any noble defender, they'd fire and magnetic fields would hyper-accelerate superheated metal spikes to velocities of 76.2 m/s at a rate of fire of 480 rnds/min. Buzzing through the air, the rounds scram with a fury, threatening to scorch and eviscerate their way through the viscera of any metahuman who dared patrol Gothic's north. And where the Martyrs sought to paint their corner of the city in the blood and melted flesh of the enemy... in Gothic's southern corner, Satar's Wardens had made their home. Their section of the city was frozen. Buildings were encased in layers of ice, frost clung to anything and everything, the air was cold and misted as it blew, and the cruel, subzero temperatures threatened to penetrate armor and flesh alike and freeze the bone.

No Caption Provided

Below them, the roads and streets were covered in ice and frost. It was difficult to walk. Difficult to survive. It was cold enough to slow the movements of a low-level superhuman, cold enough to leave their bodies trembling, and their skin grey. On rooftops, roaming the streets below, the Wardens where everywhere. Towering figures whose coats and metallic masks wore a pale shade of arctic blue, they grunted, firing their freeze-rays at anything and everything, intent on encasing any wandering vigilante, any driven hero in blocks of cryogenic cold. And in Gothic's western corner? Satar walked, dressed in his armored militaristic garb, his wounds and injuries healed, and his body adapted to the blows and attacks of days past, he'd grown more durable than before.

What failed to kill him, always made him stronger. Behind him, a squad of Martyrs and Wardens walked, firing at anything and anyone in their path. They flanked him, and he marched throughout the city, arms gripping the sides of his vest, his posture global and domineering, his air authoritative and cruel. His Martyrs to the north, and his Wardens to the south, and he in the west, Satar would force Gothic's defenders to fight a war on three fronts. He'd spread them thin. They couldn't be everywhere at once. But his soldiers could. And he knew Gothic City better than they. Guerrilla warfare, a war of attrition... the World Eater was willing to do anything to leave his mark once more, to destroy... as the commands in his mind so violently roared.

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#11 Posted by 614azrael (10462 posts) - - Show Bio
"There's no saving it"

Her words were blunt but those around her knew it to be true. Survivors every one of them, within the mutant slums was a variety of those who'd seen the worst of Gothic. And all eyes were on her, they knew her she was thought dead. When Envy marched for mutant kind Azrael was beside him, and once they had reached the capital she tried to reduce Washington to cinders. To end the states as an act of liberation of her people, it failed however. It haunted her and it haunted many of them, subjugated and abused they wanted her to succeed. Seeing that explosion fail was discouraging and although their was an excited hope in their eyes most the abandoned hung there head sad it'd come to this, they knew what the radioactive reaper was about to say. Softening the dread though was the fact humans were in the crowd as well. This wasn't a race thing any more, with things like new gods such division shouldn't matter. But Venezuela had taught a valuable lesson.

Some returned cause they had nowhere else to go, some were never extracted. Whatever the reason for staying those abandoned by society and government could look to her. "It doesn't matter what is done for Gothic, the commissioners the governors they cant make it great again. The police just another gang to buy off. Doctors they'd rather sell your organs then fix your wounds. Prisons understaffed and just as bad as the cops they are useless. Gothic is a cancer. I believe the only cure is to end it." None of them wanted this, this was there home and Azra understood this. "Venezuela now the great nation of the Shogunate, it was built on ashes. Corporate wars reduced it to ash, a tragedy. But look how far it has come built on that horror. History has shown us how destruction is an ideal solution. You don't have to fight, we'll try and keep you safe. Just know that we fight for something better." Some were sick, young, old, unwilling and that was fine. These refugees would be protected as the rest fought knowing the angel of death would deliver them to the Shogunate when this was done.

Her hand rested on the shoulder of a young man. A mutant with the ability to pinpoint mutant locations, to track the x gene and through a psychic link Azrael tapped into that. Looking to shield everyone before her and every mutant left in the abandoned city from what was to come. If it could be helped they wouldn't kill their own. This night was for the beggars, the down trotted spit on rejects of society. Gothic City was holding the world back from progress. The refugee like camps and poor filled alley ways a sign of an age that should end. Segregation shouldn't exist anymore. Corporate machines crushing the spines of commoners shouldn't be the way. Gothic was stubborn though not yielding to any of the raids and assaults that had come. Intervention couldn't come through an army or a band of ninjas. They had seen it, the city still stood despite all of that. So the thermonuclear tempest was coming for the crown to bring those walls down and lay a disease to rest with her explosive idea of a cure.

No Caption Provided

Fists to the air, behind the blazing redhead was a sea of weapons and fists. They weren't many in number and their weapons not to impressive. Conviction though carried out a loud battle cry turning a few nobodies into a legion threatening to rival the spartans. And then while her ragtag faction was safe from the coming bombardment safety of most anyone and anything else escaped the radioactive reaper's mind. The city, she hated it, they hated it so they said let it burn. Plans in action they didn't know of, and ultimately they saw them as futile. Solution was singular and so in a glow white hot with an edge of tangerine and jade flame the pryer Xenon Elite sought to deliver death on a scale history didn't want repeated.

An explosive force enough to eradicate everything in a five mile radius, an explosive force that was equivalent to almost fifteen thousand tons of T&T. It was an act to incinerate everything in that radius exception only to the faction of beggars behind her and mutants in the area. Be it the heat that was a blaze of a terrifying degrees, the radioactive wash of energy that looked to poison the region it didn't matter. Air pressure so much in scale it could blow apart structures on its own, the magnitude of what she was trying to do was awful. Azrael knew she was trying to relive one of the worst bombings in history, that despite evacuation she would be responsible for a horrible body count and scale of attack. She might never even be allowed to return to her home of the Shogunate for what shed tried to do. However inspired by people like Amaranthe, Ivana, Xenon, the Supreme Chancellor Envy and others the radioactive reaper truly believed it was worth it. That delivering the abandoned from this hell to such a glorious place was worth it. If she could save even one of the beggars, one of those homeless, one single human or mutant betrayed by the world. Then being at the heart of ground zero was worth it, regardless of who might try and possibly succeed in taking her life.

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#12 Posted by Vael (296 posts) - - Show Bio

Vael waited in the dark corners of Gothic City. She stood quietly in the wreckage of a once towering building, her hands clasped in front of her and her bo-staff anchored in its sheath on her back. She felt the manna of the city flowing around and through her, sitting and waiting for something, anything to happen. Her employer had called her here, insisted that something was going on...yet all she had seen so far from her lofty vantage point was a useless explosion at the prison. Let them suffer. She thought, her opinion of prisoners exceptionally low. Determined to not waste her time she opened her eyes, they blazed bright gold in the shadows, the only immediately identifiable means of noticing her where she currently stood.

No Caption Provided

"Sot. Ent. Veth-ahn." She said the words of power each one distinctly as she channeled manna into her body and conspired to craft spells from the arcane power of Gothic City. The first spell gave her foresight into the future, the second created a massive torrential downpour that covered the whole city and the third gave her the gift of sharks, the ability to scent blood and to detect and identify the slightest of vibrations. She inhaled, enjoying the sensation of power coursing through her blood as The Void Terror stepped into the dim glowing light of the city fires. She watched as a massive explosion began far across the city and studied its expansion, preparing a possible escape route if it became necessary. That is the signal then. It has begun.

She slipped from the building and headed in the direction of the conflict, the explosion at the prison ,the larger explosion...they were all relatively close together. Vael walked the streets in her civilian clothing, unconcerned with the peasants and vagrants that for insanity's sake remained in the city even after all that had occurred last time it was attacked. It wasn't that she thought poorly of them, it was that Vael didn't think about them at all. They were peasants, worse, they were sick or insane or just too stupid to matter. Vael was in no hurry. Let the conflict's opening moves play out, come in when the others have begun to tire and when their moves are all laid out on the bored for all to see. There is no need to act yet, only to approach, to watch. I can crush my foes and hear the lamentations of their women later.

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#13 Posted by Last-Emperor (297 posts) - - Show Bio

@last_guardian: @victoradams: @pre-mortem: @strigidae_23:

-Gothic City, Undisclosed Location-

Where exactly? None could say. But he was there, in Gothic, somewhere. An undisclosed base of operations? Perhaps. Arms folded behind his back, and his posture composed and poised, Impero gazed upon the members of his faction; the Masquerade. From behind his mask's expressionless, alabaster visage, his piercing eyes cast an enigmatic quality; a calmness colder than the ice water in his veins. The lights warmed and the sepia hue all about them seemed permanent. "Go into the city. Reclaim it from the Union.. and hand it to the Strigidae", Impero commanded, the measured and raspy timbre of his deep voice cutting through the air with ease. "Kill anyone who opposes the Strigidae".

No Caption Provided

In unison, the Specters and Ghosts, those who were the Masquerade's viscera, nodded and departed, slipping into the shadows.. and reappearing in the city streets. His trailed after them, watching them till the last of his cronies had gone. Hands resting on a cold metal rail, the Last Emperor was silent. He did not care for the Strigidae's extremist ideologies. He was neither mutant nor human but... something else. An 'Other'. Only one thing of their was common, their enemy; Alexander Donn. And he'd already lit the fires of public divide and turned the American president into a figure of controversy. After tonight, Donn would not simply be the president who lied about the Brahma Bull's death... but the president who lost Gothic City no more than a few days after reclaiming it.

A president whose promises could not be trusted. American History celebrated Abraham Lincoln. 'Honest Abe' many called him. American History would vilify Alexander Donn. 'Dishonest Donn'.. Impero's eyes almost seemed to smirk at the thought.

-Elsewhere in Gothic-

In the shadows and on rooftops, the Masquerade's Specters and Ghosts traveled in packs, though they did not seem to.. because they could not be seen. Their suits were one of a kind, ones that use a manufactured material with differently-colored lights attached to protein motors embedded at the surface. The lights rotated, turned on and off dynamically to match the color of their grim surroundings. Made up of highly fluorescent nanoscale metal semiconductors, the lights absorbed and emitted light of different wavelengths. They moved, controlling their own intensity and position and using the video input from the suits' technology to capture their surrounding environment.

No Caption Provided

The Specters and Ghosts were cloaked. Invisible to the naked eye as they roamed the streets of Gothic. And years of ninjutsu training had left them all but silent to any ear. Unseen and unheard. They waited. In the shadows and in every corner, for those who would choose to defend Gothic City from the Strigidae. They were armed, with instruments designed to resemble guns but their rounds were not the bullets of modern warfare. Their rounds contained nanites that blocked the Protein Kinase C zeta/PKM-zeta enzyme and PRKCZ gene, both of which are responsible for maintaining memories in the brain.

They were mind-wiping rounds. Their nanites possessed the ability to rob a victim's brain of any learned information and even strip it of certain types of memories associated with emotions and motor skills. Martial arts expertise, academic knowledge, the ability to walk etc. nothing was beyond the reach of their nanites. And so they waited. The plan was simple; disarm their foes by depriving them of their greatest skills and basic motor privileges, and then eliminate them at their most useless. Targets would soon emerge. And for now, Impero saw no need for his other resources.

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#14 Posted by Jason_ford (1100 posts) - - Show Bio

@victoradams: @strigidae_23:

(It has begun!! Just a note by the way, Jason Ford is not known to even be alive. Only a few know he is. Red Masks identity is very much a secret.)

Red Mask recieved the usb and read it examining it with Arnold Striker by him. Each were in their own uniforms and fully armed. With them were four ghost crew Blue Bloods, two to accompany each of the leaders, 30 ghost crew fully equipped (15 to follow each leader), Shadow aka Lindsey Turner, and the Scarlet Archer.

"Interesting. Time to go, our ally is Ivana Strigidae. If you discover anyone allied with her do not engage unless ordered to do so. If you encounter the Soldier or someone above your level call in backup. I don't want to many dying unless they must." Red Mask stated. These weren't all the people he had. They were just the first force. If things went to badly, then out come the bombs and acid.

They exited into the streets, Red Mask went one way, his soldiers fanning out in groups of three to get atop the roofs. The two Blue Bloods stayed with him. In a room with screens that showed everything. He might enter the battle, or not.

Darkwing led his team in a similair fashion. Fanning out completely invisible and soundless, litterally, thanks to Jason's sound absorbing armor and Cloaks they were quite undetectable except by a few means. Again, in threes. Three ghosts a building. Darkwing himself and the Blue Bloods with him moved carefully throughout the streets.

Shadow did what her gifts allowed her to. She slipped through shadows watching everything, only allowed to attack if absolutely necessary.

The Scarlet Archer was not quite as hidden. He went from rooftop to rooftop bow at the ready preparing for combat.

It was Victor Adams they ran into first. Still hidden in their light bending cloaks, and utterly soundless thanks to absorbing it. Darkwing and two Blue Bloods saw him. The Blue Bloods pulled up their rifles aiming expertly at him, towards his eyes, intending on ending him right there. And they let loose. Fully automatic machine guns in the hands of superstrong ex military that were invisible were dangerous things. They fired for exactly two seconds before stepping away from their location, still invisible.

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#15 Edited by Sionnach001 (121 posts) - - Show Bio

@alpha_dog: @dreadpool10: @victoradams: @strigidae_23:

Sean crouched in the same back corner shadow of the 7-11 where he was well out of sight or sound, knife in each hand ready to throw at the pale clothed vigilante's neck, if need be. He could shadow-step out of here whenever he liked, but those weren't his instructions. He watched the skull masked and feral looking compatriots that he'd been informed about arrive and interact with the pasty one...colorful lot he had to admit, so he worked out a few angles to try to give them some back up should things jump off. Then there was a great jumping explosion in the distance! The shadow he was ensconced in kept him from feeling it, but the glow lit up the sky nicely enough, and the shock wave shook the convenience store pretty good.

Yeah, ol' fellah. Ye've just moved up into a whole new pitch here."

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#16 Posted by K_Brimstone (902 posts) - - Show Bio

For the first time in a very great while, Stone had finished up all the scheduled maintenance, physical training, weapons training, technical study, local criminology reports, and scheduling all of these things for the upcoming week. As a reward he fixed himself a decent breakfast, ate it at a reasonable pace, took a nice long shower, and laid down to catch up on a little much needed sleep. Three minutes and forty-nine seconds later a rumbling shock passed under and through the warehouse, and Stone's feet hit the floor almost as soon as his eyes snapped open.

"Hey, worm food, a big ass bomb just went off." Random informed him belatedly.

"Yes, I know." as he was already pulling on the under-suit for the No Suit Mk 2 Armor. He got it zipped on and was moving downstairs to open up the Hurt Locker.

"Random, get me a read on the situation, please." He let none of the urgency into his voice or actions that he felt into his stomach and chest. With a second or two of breathing, he felt none of the urgency in those places either. Urgency was caused by anxiety, anxiety by doubt, doubt by an unclear mind, and an unclear mind caused death...the wrong people's death anyway. Stone began working himself into the armor, and mentally selecting which weapons and gear he'd be needing, depending on what information the AI fed him.

"Um...bilebag? Didn't you get into a huge fight with a bunch of people a month ago. City got invaded by Uncle Scram. Goodguys win...ya don't wear pants to the victory dance. Radiation guy Codename: Satar, all that?"

"I have a vague recollection, yes." Stone replied a bit sourly. His new "spine" still always felt a little cold inside him.

"Well everyone needs to put their pants back on. Satar's very much back. There's a few battalions of hostiles everywhere but this part of the city. Lessee...Satar himself is in Western Gothic, and has a bunch of his goons with him. Up north hes got close to a battalion of orange and black suited guys lighting up the place with...wow...Gauss weapons! This is cool..um wow that sucks! Down in South Gothic, we've got a little less than a battalion icing up the place with cryo weapons."

The soldier finished locking on the armor began lashing on his Full Load Out, plus the SABR Laser Rifle, NANOTech Rifle, and The Beast minigun.

"What about the..."

"Wasn't a bomb, was a mutant. Either pyrokinetic, or HIGH end telekinetic...probably the first one. Also thinking there's some heavy cloaked SOF type movement in the northeast, can't be TOO sure though, keeps moving and it's hard to fix. I'd bet on a small unit, heavy, heavy stealth group though."

"Got it," Stone replied, hefting the weapons and gear up onto his broad shoulder, lemme go get..."

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#17 Posted by m-treacle (55 posts) - - Show Bio


Malcolm moved fluidly and deliberately through Wild Horse Parts Its Mane, Feeling the Tai Chi movements both strengthen, and relax him, even massaging his internal organs. Magic, after all, wasn't simply about learning "spells" and reading tea leaves. It was mental and physical discipline that was as demanding as any professional sport...in some ways more so. As such, it required that a true practitioner, especially a master such as himself, to keep himself fit of mind and body.

He was focusing on the perfect line forming between his left knee and right elbow when The Earth cried out, followed by a rumble beneath his feet echoed by a shaking in the walls. Annoyed, he slipped on his ten rings, and his bathrobe, and padded out and around to the main room of the warehouse where he saw Brimstone, surprise, in a ridiculous space age armor carrying a number of weapons.

"Is it typical for this city to explode this time of day?" The mage asked in a pique?"

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#18 Posted by K_Brimstone (902 posts) - - Show Bio


"Is it typical for this city to explode this time of day?" The mage asked in a pique?

Stone felt he did a miraculous job not shooting his partner just then.

"We're going right now to get apologies from all the people who just died in that explosion for disturbing you, princess." Stone answered dryly.

"Get yourself together, we're moving out." By the time he had moved the weapons into The Brick , an indifferent Treacle slid into the vehicle next to him, and they set out into the city.

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#19 Posted by valken (1663 posts) - - Show Bio

CIA Headquarters

No Caption Provided

Since his short time working with the CIA, Oliver had progressed quite rapidly. He had moved from a small cubicle doing menial paperwork to being well on the path to becoming a field operative. His innate ability to learn extreme skills, such as hand-to-hand combat, coupled with his physical prowess granted by his superhuman abilities had quickly made him a reputable combatant. Oliver's unique, repetitious pulse that produced nearly undetectable vibrations gave him the added location of acting like a form of sonar or radar, and allowed him complete situational awareness in the darkest of rooms and the ability to predict strikes before they occurred.

That being said, Oliver was still far from a seasoned combat veteran. He had much to learn - something that was rapidly discovered on his nightly "excursions." Despite the want for a job that gave him boundaries and strict rules, his inner daredevil and adrenaline junkie, combined with something else - something different had managed to create something within him.

At first, it was like a game to test his new skills. Running around the city in a costume fighting thugs. Most of the time he had no issue, but Oliver had more than a few close calls. It became an addiction. Soon, it wasn't about testing his skills or honing his powers - it became about fighting; he loved fighting the "bad guys". As a CIA agent he couldn't operate on home soil and stop these people, but as this, whatever this was, he could make a difference.

Gothic City

Oli was perched on top of a gargoyle which extended out from a beige, stone building. He adjusted his suit slightly; something he had secretly acquired from the CIA files. After all, they hadn't just given him hand-to-hand training, but they made him an excellent researcher and subsequently an excellent detective. He had modified the suit slightly, adding a few minor modifications. But, it was mainly an advanced kevlar bi-weave armour. Although not state-of-the-art, it would stop a knife and anything but a direct a bullet. It had built-in temperature regulators to ensure maximum comfort and was coated in a black latex material to dampen heat signature and minimise night vision detection. The way Oliver saw it, he hadn't actually stole the suit, he had just borrowed it.

Given what was about to unfold in Gothic, he thought it was an acceptable thing to borrow. Oliver placed the black domino mask over his face; simple, but it seemed to completely change him. Gothic City was about to become a battleground and Oliver knew it was no place for a CIA Agent. However, it was a place for Valken - his moniker which he had adopted. Oliver had come up with the name from the Norse word, Valkyrie. Valkyrie's, in Norse mythology were female figures who decided which warriors lived or died on the battlefield and were responsible to bring those who died to Valhalla. Some might ask, why a female-oriented figure? Well, the day when his powers had awakened and caused the avalanche in the French Alps he had killed several of his friends. One of those was the love of his life.

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#20 Posted by Ninjaboss123 (1376 posts) - - Show Bio

Prerecorded message that played during March to Hell

I had to work with showing up appearances. Literal Hell on Earth and people need to see me leave. Surely the only people saying are the dead and the criminal. Just to have an ace up my sleeve this video showing me leave.

Cameras outside Gothic looked at the opened gates leading out. A continued line of bus came followed with a familiar limo between the buses. With the limo pulling off the road a reporter televising the event taking place.

"We aren't entirely sure of what is going on in Gothic, But as you can see evacuation buses lined up far as the eye can see." The lady said speaking as the shot went to the buses. The news went back to the studio as Christian Dreamer approached the novice reporter lady.

"We have Christian Dreamer here who has lately expanded his industries into Gothic, What do you think about the current situation?" The lady said putting the mic over at him.

"What do I think? I'm losing money and resources and you ask about the current situation.. I mean seriously.. I almost died back there. My body guards had to protect me from that Hell. Gothic City be dam-." Chris said storming off the live recording heading back to the studio as an anchor man said, "Sorry for the minor difficulties," trying to play it off as technical difficulties.

Right where I want eyes to see me. I've got them right where I want them.

Present day Gothic City whats left of it anyway

"Gothic City be damned," a criminal said loading his machine gun as a few others were walking around him. They were preparing to target another gang held out in Gothic. They were all held out in one of the many abandon Gothic City buildings scrambled through the city.

But they won't get the chance.
I'll beat them to it. Who cares about their weapons.
I have had a significant tech upgrade myself so I'm not worried.
Time to test it out, Them all being in close proximity is a plus.

I look down at them from the ceiling my weight being held by the properties of the gloves keeping me out of sight. Through enough listening I heard them speak of rumors and intell within Gothic. I'd clearly had enough watching a thug light his cheap cigar. Let it fly hope for the best and be ready for the worst. With that in mind I let a special modified weapon fly. A vibranium shuriken, special because the blades could retracts and I could throw it with the potential to keep going.

The tip of the lit cigar had been cut upon impact of the shuriken, the guy paid no worry. The modified throwing star nailed a guy in the side of his knee cap sending it bouncing into a wall and back into the back of a guys head then another. Dropping down I make short work of the cigar guy missing the guy with the shattered knee going straight for the two stunned cutting the first guy down stabbing the next in the chest reaching the last guy the shuriken was meant for, the blades extending as it sunk deep into his skull.

Taking the modified throwing star out I approach the guy with the shattered knee not being seen getting everything that he knew out of him. Then ending his suffering I glance at my surroundings happy with the results of the test. "Gothic City has hope. I know where I'm needed."

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#21 Posted by William_Eldrik (301 posts) - - Show Bio

Three Miles off of Gothic Harbor. 800 Feet Underground.

"Computer, analyze and break down every organic compound in this." The arrow clattered onto a silver dish, blood dripping off of the tip of it to soak the tray below. The arrow of Kurt Pendragon, with the blood of Curve on the other end of it, the results of the test were mandatory to combat the terrorist clown in the future. William Eldrik's eyes looked from the arrow to the computer screens above, to which lines of genetic code raced across the screen, samples immediately taken from the arrowhead. Creating the antidote to Curve's infection would be the primary factor to reducing crime in Gothic City to all new lows, and as much as the police tried, they could hardly achieve such a goal.

Curve had died. But he would be back.

Viruses always come back.

Before deciding to call it a night (neglecting sleep in the past thirty six hours), a loud ping occurred on the computer above him, and he narrowed his eyes, looking up. The camera systems that had been so carefully placed both by his self and by the Super City program flared up onto the screen, showing the sewers practically invaded by the former Shogun of Venezuela. Ivana Strigidae was in Gothic City. And the teen couriers that she utilized weren't there for candygrams.

"Computer, prepare the plane for take off."

"TheVengeancewing, sir?"

"I'm not calling it that," He snapped, in response to the AI. As impressive as Malcolm Press was, he had some silly names for his equipment. Jogging now, he pulled up his cowl, leaping into the open cockpit of the advanced jet plane that had once so frequently flew through the night sky. Now, it was covered in dust, the lights inside of it barely flickering on as he activated them. With a frown, he pushed forward on the acceleration, launching forward towards the end of the ramp. Creaking doors swung open, allowing him out into the narrow caves that had been created even underneath the ocean floor.

Back at the edge of the city, only moments later, an abandoned tunnel opened it's KEEP OUT gates, a huge black bat soaring through the exit and out into the night sky.

Dark Vengeance flew again.

Inner Gothic.

The giant bat plane cast it's menacing shadow over whoever remained in Gothic.

No Caption Provided

"Super City, keep tabs on Ivana Strigidae. I want to know where she goes. Computer, run ID scans on all the teens that she used." The teenagers were unimportant at the moment, but later, he would make sure that they'd never serve the Strigidae again. While still unintroduced to Ivana, William was aware of her political deeds, and knew that the woman was not in her line of work for the moral good. Glancing at the monitors in his cowl, he set his plane's coordinates to the 7/11, one that he surprisingly recognized- two weeks prior, he had been working there, before being transferred.

However, he quickly withdrew these coordinates. For gathering at the convenience store, a practical horde of metahumans gathered, a group that would only grow in size. Making sure that he would keep tabs on their activity, he changed direction now, heading for the subway.

In another few minutes, he landed the plane atop one of Gothic's still standing skyscrapers, leaping off to glide down discreetly.

Silently, he landed, pulling up to glance down the subway before him, then at one of the greatest archers the world had ever known, hoping that the slight talks that they had would result in a sort of alliance during the combat that would ensue.

"Pendragon. Brief me."


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#22 Posted by m-treacle (55 posts) - - Show Bio

@k_brimstone: @vael:

Malcolm and Brimstone drove away from the latter's carefully concealed underground garage, while Brimstone's computerized monstrosity shielded them from any electronic watchers and Malcolm from any magical...well, this was new...and not the least bit welcome.

Somewhere out in this godsforsaken city was someone of great power. Whoever it was wasn't projecting, but wasn't bothering to hide either. Malcolm couldn't be sure of course, but the timbre of the resonance sounded vaguely female. He closed his eyes to reassure himself. Yes, the tattoo that constantly projected his metamagical Masking spell was still active and contained his own aura. The confluence of containing energies made him appear simply human to astral examination, unless someone had cause to look particularly deeply. This person could penetrate the Mask without much effort should they, or potentially she, find a cause too.

He chose not to mention it to Brimstone as it was unlikely to effect their situation. Not to mention that this person, for that matter nothing this side of a major deity could sense of affect the soldier to begin with. Even if it did, Malcolm was confident that he would be able to inform Brimstone when the time was right. As usual, while he had a great deal of understandable confidence in himself, even a high degree of confidence in Brimstone, his distrust of sharing information with others might well be their downfall should this entity find unwanted interest in the two of them.

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#23 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio

@william_eldrik: @pre-mortem:

No Caption Provided

"Best get prep'd kid, we're about to run into an old Strigidae wolf that's been chained up for a while but just got broken out." Kurt ominously stated, withdrawing a trion blade from his utility belt and crouching slightly. "And I'm certain he won't go down without a fight."

Kurt silently gestured elsewhere in the tunnel near to the entrance that Pre-Mortem had made, advising Vengeance to lay in wait for the two and launch and ambush, with Kurt being the obvious blockade in their path to freedom... And distraction.

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#24 Posted by Strigidae_57 (623 posts) - - Show Bio

@pre-mortem: @strigidae_23: @william_eldrik: @pyrogram:

No Caption Provided

Inhuman urban acrobatics aerially carried the Ghostshell Shinobi across the crumbling corporate skyline of the forsaken city. Disciplined urgency and genetic superiority allowing the militant Strigidae to leap, roll, slide and dexterously evade a plethora of utility based obstacles without pause, or even hesitation.

Photographic reflexes haunting his muscle memory with sub-conscious replication of the world's foremost free-running techniques. Each sprinted step a silent explosion of forward propulsion, as 57 blended the Arcani art of Khaba into his gymnastic negotiation of the skyline with untraceable motion.

While elsewhere, just as the collective Strigidae had previously calculated before disembarking, Gothic's home grown vigilantes and heroes had cunningly tracked and monitored the 23rd Strigidae's activities. Knowing the when, where, and with whom she had met. Some immediately intercepting her location well before the premeditated meet could even commence. However the former Shogun's tactical intuition had been razor honed.

Multiple full and small scale incursions had forged her into the ultimate weapon. One with little rival. Defeating everything from supermen, to supernatural warbands, a mutant general championed by her genetically bonded people, the battle tested Street Shogun had anticipated such a skillful and rapid response to be held be her opposition. They werent to be underestimated. Yet neither was the strategic mistress of subversion, for she had unleashed perhaps the greatest destroying ever manufactured by god, devil, or evolution.......Satar

Meanwhile, willing to take a shot in order to deliver one, Ivana had drawn the opening focus to her. And in doing so, many of her enemy's had made themselves known. From a distant they watched her with a combination of technology and position, and from a further distance the Dark Web Radical watched them, watching her, with his own technology. His own hidden and ever evolving position.

With the technopathic aid of the millennial cyber-terrorist, Sequitur Crix, the 57th Strigidae secretly raced after the looming shadow in the sky. The Megatronian Mask relaying a revolutionary buffet of digital information on the interior of the mask's full-length visor HUD. Speed, distance, trajectory, all tracking the craft with combat optical algorithms. Before 57 watched it land.

Still sprinting, still arrested by his own unbroken momentum, the Strigidae Street Ninja quickly bounced up, then off an industrial size radiator. His arms beautifully T'd away from his body in a slowly evolving flip. Waiting just moments before impact atop the roof of the parked bat-inspired aircraft on the skyscraper below. Before finally tucking and rolling off. Hitting the machine and somersaulting forward, there was little noise outside the metallic echo of pins bouncing off the vehicle and then onto the ground, A distinctive sound known to any combat veteran as the sound of a pulled grenade or detonating device pin.

No Caption Provided

Within split seconds the abandoned explosives irrupted atop the bat-jet with the intent of instantly obliterating it in a controlled explosion in the backdrop of the militant Strigidae's silhouette. Adorned in his full compliment of riggings, camo, tech, and harnesses, the Ghostshell confidently followed the latest of Gothic's bats. Tossing yet another coupling off explosives at the unsuspecting team up, ambushing the would-be ambushers. The explosion, even if unsuccessful, would alert the Underground Opportunist. Not on the specifics, but that his previous course of evacuation had been compromised if nothing else.

Rolling into a covered position in anticipation of the heroic duos inevitable evasion, 57's synthesized voice heckled, "You look familiar. Didnt I almost kill you once before?"

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#25 Edited by Ninjaboss123 (1376 posts) - - Show Bio

@victoradams: @strigidae_57:@pre-mortem: @strigidae_23: @william_eldrik: @pyrogram

It appears that someone else Is traveling toward where my leads have lead. Not many people would have saw the jet overhead but my trained eyes spotted it flying overhead. At least that means that the tip wasn't all bad. But from how it appears It seems to be worse than I had thought. Stealth should definitively be initiated withing the danger residing within Gothic. Many of the Hero/Villain in my files are here maybe even some that I don't. Newly equipped to take on the world. Ready to bring back hope into Gothic one step at a time. Showing the world "Gothic City is not damned."

This was my favorite part of the night. Right after I take down a room full of thugs. When I fly through the darkened skies now filled with smoke and ash invisible to the naked eye. Flying through the air scanning the chaos that the city had been left in. With only one thing in my mind was uncovering the current situation. Clearly it appeared as an aftershock to the earthquake that happened not long ago. Or maybe the earthquake was to set up an erosion of Gothic washing everything away in a pool of watery chaotic madness.

Flying through the air invisible I reach near where the tip lead me. I could have kept up with the jet but I stayed back to avoid being seen. The jet takes a turn avoiding the destination while I slow my flying down landing on the top of a building a block away from destination. My vehicles only the press of a button away all my gear and even the new gear freshly crafted. I have no time to waste. I thought launching a silent microscopic device through the air landing on the 7-11 in Dogwood.

"And now I wait."
It won't be long till others come and battles may begin.

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#26 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio

@strigidae_57@pre-mortem: @william_eldrik:

"We got company."

Milliseconds after Kurt had welcomed the new Dark Vengeance into the fold, the Emerald Archer's ears picked up on the unexpected explosion outside. He scowled, tossing back his head and looking at William. "We got company," Kurt shot his head back around to the entrance, knowing that their foe only had one means of conventionally confronting them...

He didn't know nor care what had been hit outside, but knew that this ambush was never going to go off so seamlessly. It never did."Stay on target, I'll handle this." With a quick-placed trust in William, Kurt had full faith that the new Dark Vengeance would have the ability to deal with Strigidae 100 and his saviour; there was simply no time these days to doubt your allies.

No Caption Provided

As Kurt stepped forward in the subway to greet the attacker, he was confronted by two explosives... His eyes lit up bright green with annoyance as an agile flip was immediately showcased, at the same time two arrows were manifest upon his bow, aimed, and fired in rapid succession. The arrows soared through the air in the close proximity and locked onto the grenades, engulfing them in a thick dome of green energy and capturing the sure to be life-ending shock wave and shrapnel that would have ripped through the small area and torn Kurt and his ally to pieces. With a thud, Kurt landed back onto the ground and huffed, hearing 57's synthesized voice ironically heck him.

"If memory serves, aren't you the guy who ran from me?"

He raised his bow and smirked, "Strigidae," he paused, manifesting an arrow and looking around the subway. "Don't let me down again. I'm starting to suspect Ivana is the only competent one of the pack," without another word Kurt released his arrow which planted itself into the concrete ceiling with a crack, sending out a pulse of sonar/radar-like energy that would feed directly into his advanced heads up display via contact lense, in an attempt to stop any future games of cat and mouse. A second explosive arrow was fired almost instantly afterward as it hit the ground and exploded, but one that would only affect those in front of Kurt. The explosion was directed forward and would engulf the subway, eating up the oxygen and fueling itself like a living inferno, weeding out the Strigidae from his hiding spot...

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#27 Posted by Sionnach001 (121 posts) - - Show Bio


Sean squatted still and concealed in the shadow, watching the shenanigans a'front of the 7-11 with the Mad White Divil, and Sean's new cohorts. Sean himself was ready to back them up of course, even more interesting, he saw a small device of some kind flit down through the broken window to light upon the floor. He made ready to haul it out of there, but it didn't blow up or anything, so he watched it for a bit...didn't seem to cause any harm. Might be a listening device, then again it might be some kind of targeting transceiver, hard to say.

To be on the semi-safe side, the Irishman slid from this shadow to the mostly shadowed back room of the store, where he found out something he probably should have realized before now. He didn't know when or how she got there, but Ivana, the 23rd Strigidae, his buddy and boss, was back there gearing up for battle. He'd checked the whole place when he got here, either she was good enough to hide in plain sight, or she hadn't been here long, either way she was here now.

He fixed her with a rakish look, and a raised eyebrow, that said: How you doin'?

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#28 Posted by Strigidae_57 (623 posts) - - Show Bio


In an enterprising exploitation of esoteric stealth and speed, the Strigidae Street Ninja had already closed the distance between himself and the Gothic City archer. Premiering a cinematic carnival of action packed kung-fu, courtesy of a shadow vanishing wall run. As Kurt, for however brief, had focused his attention towards disarming the Strigidae's prior assault. Prior. As in a move behind, a full reaction in the past. But the Ultimate Utilitarian had;

Rolled into a covered position in anticipation of the heroic duos inevitable evasion

Conscious acrobatic-arrangements predicated upon enlisting the articles of asymmetric warfare had put the Ghostshell Shinobi well beyond the hero's multi-staged reaction. Forcing his opponent to defensively react, before being able to employ an impressive offensive response. But a blind one. A late one. Evident by the seasoned veterans physical optical survey, before deploying a sonar based equalizer in hopes of locating the shadow born Strigidae. Pairing it with a 'seeker' shot meant to flush the deceptive death dealer out from cover.

martial arts khaba
martial arts khaba

But by that time, the stylish militant had already silently sprinted up and along the shadowy concurs of the subway. Blessed by the silent Arcani art of KHABA. Mutely dashing through the shadows in an act that would appear to have been instantaneous teleportation. Almost as if gifted with living invisibility.

Because of this, the 57th Strigidae dropped from the darkness of the ceiling almost in perfect unison with the Emerald Paragon's first aerial shot. Nearly hit by the inadvertent arrow which had simply been meant to unlock his elusive location.

Like the true urban ninja he was, the one mutant militia exploded from above the renowned energy based powerhouse, as if the darkness had spit out a long held secret. Swimming into perfect physical position with the element of surprise, fully intent on driving his unsheathed hip mounted UnG Katana straight through the eagle-eye'd sniper's head, while simultaneously unholstering and drawing from across his body, a MK23. Firing with married ambidextrous motion in a visual display of a true street samurai. Some would call it Gunkata, but this wasnt Hollywood. This was Gothic.

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


The Strigidae had only a few moments to gather her thoughts. Events were kicking off quickly. She could hear the muffled boom of a massive explosion in the distance. What the hell? Satar? Does he have nuke? That was a nightmare scenaro if there ever was one but it was too late to worry about it now. The Beast was already lose and rampaging unchecked across the city. If the reports coming through her communicator were correct then both Satar and Red Mask were unopposed by local heroes, ripping through their outmatched opposition like lions through lambs.

Not the Donn administrations quickest response time. Maybe they didn't have any heroes stationed in Gothic at the moment. Regardless it was an opening she expected the new Impero to seize upon. Though a complete unknown he had set his sights upon President Donn for reasons known only to the enigmatic man behind the mask.

First there was Lichter, materializing from the mist in an imposing new suit of armor. The cape looks good.

"Ivana, dear, what is it with you and Gothic City? Need I be...concerned?"

Ivana wasn't in the mood. She had spent all day mentally preparing herself to fight, not chat. (Again.)

"Lichter. You smart guy. I like you. But. Everywhere I go.. there is Lichter. I not go to restroom without conversation with Lichter. This become annoying. Yes. This is word. Annoying."

"Do not become like boyfriend who text 'where are you' every fifteen minutes."

Then a motorcycle smashed through the store front and one of Gothic's vigilantes leaped into the midst of the Wolf's impromptu pack. Dust and black ash were kicked into the air along with a spray of broken glass and debris. Ivana frowned as they pelted off her kevlar and mask, inspecting @victoradams.

Clad in white with eyes that burned with a feverish intensity he seemed a spectral avenger from beyond the grave. Gothic's wrath made manifest in the flesh, a curse upon those who themselves a curse upon the city.

"You fluffs think you can just hide in my city, nah I hear everything"

Under her ballistic mask Ivana raised an eyebrow.

But before she could react the rest of her team being filtering in. Alpha Dog, an old ally from her time as Shogun. A mountain of muscle, claws and attitude he was as dependable as they came.. as long as you wanted to destroy something. Or someone. An old friend, Ivana always felt comfortable going into battle beside him.

Talvaran. White cape, skull mask and still a mystery to the 23rd Strigidae. Was he a mutant true believer? Or in it for reasons of his own? It was too soon to say. This test him. We see what he is made of. Who he is.

And Sionnach. The Wolfpack's latest edition and hand picked by Ivana to accompany her into battle. She had a good feeling about him even if she couldn't quite put a finger on why. No matter. She trusted her instincts unless given a compelling reason not to.

"Hear this Ghost Guy."

Ivana lifted her rifle, aiming down the holographic sight toward the white clad avenger's knee.

"Kill him."

Her instructions given to @alpha_dog, @dreadpool10, and @sionnach001 she squeezed the trigger.

The black barrel spat a three round burst. Tachyon infused, copper jacketed, lead cored. The first two cut through the few feet separating them at almost three times the speed of sound, racing toward his patella. If not evaded or otherwise defended against they would punch through anything short of true adamantine and shatter the bone like a hammer hitting a piggy bank.

But the recoil of the burst caused the third bullet to fly slightly higher, toward the tendon of his quadriceps and his femur. Like the other two it was capable of penetrating any material in the universe save one and like the other it would punch through human bone with ease before fragmenting, sending razor sharp, red hot shards of metal slicing through the delicate tendons and muscles of the knee.

A crippling injury, if successful. But not a fatal one.

She wanted to see what her team could do.

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#31 Edited by Pre-Mortem (199 posts) - - Show Bio


The Renegade Remnant’s HUD beeped, informing him that they had company. The Stochastic Savant was already moving, and Pre-Mortem gestured for him to follow. Someone's in here with us. From what I’ve heard, you won’t need a weapon, but if you do...

Savant shook his head, still silent, and they continued, passing row upon row of prisoners before they got near to the entrance the Underground Opportunist had made. Two men stood at it, talking. One held a bow, the other appeared to be Dark Vengeance himself.

No Caption Provided

As they observed, Pre-Mortem trying to think of an exit strategy that didn’t involve combat, when another group came to his attention on the HUD. Shit. He must have sent people to check on your cell. Maybe they went another way... intercept them, make sure they don't radio back in to say the didn’t find you. The Stochastic Savant nodded, and was gone. Seconds later, the sounds of screams came through the Underground Opportunist's earpiece. This man was lethal and efficient, just like his Strigidae friends.

The Renegade Remnant continued to watch, raising a rifle to fire at the unarmored archer, when another player arrived. His armor was somewhat different, but the voice was unmistakable. It was the man who he had met at the Underground, the Ultimate Utilitarian. Strigidae 57. He grinned and opened a secure channel with his earpiece. Thanks for the backup, man. Engaging now.

No Caption Provided

He shifted his aim to the Black Brynjar, and fired. The weapon wasn’t particularly powerful, it probably wouldn’t penetrate the armor on Dark Vengeance's cowl, if indeed it was armored. But it would disorient him, as only a bullet smacking against your skull can. And that would give the Renegade Remnant time. He fired, and shifted the HUD goggles from off his eyes, stowed the rifle, and drew a pistol and knife. He charged forward down the hallway, firing and holding his arm holding the knife out perpendicular to the gun. If Dark Vengeance was still reeling from the impact, he’d attempt to leap into the hole that lead to the subway, landing next to the rail rocket, and signal Strigidae 100 to join him.

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#33 Posted by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio


With unshakable confidence and faith in his Strigidae skill the Ghostshell Shinobi tactically positioned himself behind Gothic's Favorite Archer, with both uncanny adroitness and immediate lethality, the 57th Strigidae warrior's Katana sliced through the air and into Kurt's head, his forcefield mitigating some of the damage, but barely enough. There was only so much one could do when a katana wielded by such a skillful foe was attempted to plow through the top of your head without warning. The blade sliced through the flesh on his scalp, leaving a monstrous laceration which drenched the subway with his oddly glowing blood, only stopping as it dug into his skull and left a deep, painful wound.


Kurt felt the world fade away, the human body, even despite his healing factor and inherent willpower, could only take so much.

Then suddenly...

The blade slid off as it was chaperoned by a sleekly drawn MK23, three bullets firing and one penetrating into Kurt's back as the other two bounced off of what was left of his speedily fading forcefield, barely kept active with what little cognition the Emerald Archer could muster given the circumstances. The world slowly faded from Kurt, his enhanced mind and years worth of experienced turned into intuitive martial artistry ran through his mind...




Like a ghost, one would have thought the revered Gothic Knight was slain and his body ascended to whatever God governed the cruel world that they lived within, his physical body turning into a hazy green mist and within an instant coming behind the Universal Warrior, incorporeally travelling through the man. In fact; this was not some supernatural ability. Rather the culmination of intellect gifted to him in ways to use his powers by Andres Knightfall and the training received whilst in the League of Shadows.

As though no time at all had passed since 57th last bullet, Kurt attempted to perform a picture-perfect blood choke upon his would-be murderer, restricting blood flow to the brain via the carotid arteries in a matter of seconds. Channeling his energy into his muscles and increasing the grip of his hopefully perfectly executed maneuver, his arms would hope to lock like immovable steel around the Wolfpack member. If it succeeded? He would not let go, uncaring of letting the man recover from this ordeal. Brain damage or death were both on the menu for any of the infamous Strigidae.

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

@victoradams: @dreadpool10: @sionnach001: @strigidae_23:

Didn't look like the lack of beer was going to be an issue.

He took in the full scene at a glance, his smile broadening as the feral growl grew louder in his throat. Someone had already showed up to crash their party, and the guests were still filtering in; that's what Dog considered a good start. Of course, going back to her black ops roots or not, Ivana was still hardly an unrecognizable figure; whoever this masked fella was, he had to be either supremely confident in his own abilities, or a complete nutcase.

"Kill him."

The order was pretty unnecessary, as far as he was concerned. Once an uninvited guest busted in and started posturing, she'd have had to directly ordered Dog not to kill him, and there would have still been a solid chance that he'd have pretended to not hear her.

"Ya got guts, pal," he snarled at Victor, flexing his clawed hands. "Shame they're about to be varnishin' the floor."

With negotiations thus settled, Dog leapt at Victor with a speed that would have been impressive in a man half his size. The feral growl erupted into a primal roar as clawed hands whipped upwards before sweeping down with violent power. Dog had no idea what the man's abilities or gear were; for all he knew, his claws would have about as much power to hurt the man as a mosquito had the power to slow a runaway train. Didn't matter. He'd try a thousand different attacks until he found one that worked, and if it meant he had to spend hours ripping at the guy...well, sometimes a day was just destined to be a good day.

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#35 Posted by valken (1663 posts) - - Show Bio

@alpha_dog: @victoradams

Oliver had quickly traversed through Gothic. The series of explosions had alerted his ears and the massive amount of commotion had caught the attention of his vibratory sense. Oliver really had no idea what to expect; he had seen a lot of the metahumans and vigilante's only on TV, whom of which were likely to be apart of the currently unfolding event. Until now, he hadn't even used his powers against another metahuman or somebody with incredible amounts of training. Sure CIA agents were well trained, but as Oliver understood it, some of these people made agents look like infants. It was because of this he had started regular hand-to-hand training outside of his normal CIA training. He hoped it would help.

As he neared the edge of rooftop, Oliver came to a skidding halt and peered over the side. Down below he saw a man, or at least it appeared to be man; but outside of his appearance he was more of an animal. The way he moved, his expression...very animal. The other was clad quite similar to himself; cape, hood and armoured. Oliver was overly sure exactly how to involve himself in the conflict, but standing on the rooftop definitely wasn't what he wanted to do.

Without even another moment's though, Valken walked off the rooftop and plummeted toward the street below. Extending his cape, its sudden rigidity allowed him to glide harmlessly down to the asphalt at the last minute. As his feet touched the ground, he released his cape where it resumed its previous draped position on his back.

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#36 Posted by Maxwell_Hastings (310 posts) - - Show Bio

@lichter: @dreadpool10: @last_guardian: @614azrael: @vael: @k_brimstone: @valken: @william_eldrik: @m-treacle: @ninjaboss123: @sionnach001: @strigidae_57: @strigidae_23: @pre-mortem: @emperor_von_doom: @pyrogram: @alpha_dog: @prime_impero: @satar:


Why had he been called here, why had the house out images of this god forsaken city into his mind. As a being who served as protector of Magic's very essence he usually had little time for earthen matters, he was only called by his home to challenge those who threatened the safety of the world as a whole. So in that sense he was rarely called to such a place as this where criminals ran around with petty knives and guns. Even as he emerged from the fade, he was enraged. Frost Giants had once again begun their conquest of the 76th layer and the house wanted him to come here, to abandon his duty as Grand Magic Overseer, The very thought did more then boil his blood. The moment his feet hit the asphalt roof of the building he cracked his neck, following that crack he let loose. While most mages restrain their magic aura as a tactic of combat, today he was letting it free. For those with the ability to view mana their vision would be blinded by the blue tendrils, even those with a slight taste for the mystical arts would feel him. They would feel the power, it would draw them, draw those that required his being here. Then he would forcefully remove them from this plane of existence. Tonight the lives of many would end for they had called him here, their goals and strength had brought a being who's only goal in this very moment was to obliterate those who removed him from his true work.

"Trace On...Gae Bolg, Trace On...Eagle Eye."

His mana took shape in both hands, in the left formed the black bow eagle eye and in his right the cursed spear Gae Bolg. Each a powerful weapon on their own, tonight he sought to combine their power once more. A combination he only used against beings like The Warsman due to it's sheer lethality. The unique magical property of his bow allowed him to view and fire up to two miles, with this he surveyed his surroundings. Judging by his extensive knowledge of direction he was in the Western corner and in that same corner sat a beast. The beast who had slain the Brahama Bull, Satar. While he may not have spent much time on the Physical plain the time he had lent his mind many a rumor, most of which spoke of this mans incredible might. A might that no doubt had summoned the Son of the late Adrian Hastings, a might that would crumble like the giant before David.

No Caption Provided

He took firm grip of his bow and readied it, his eyes glowing a wispy blue as it's magical effects enhanced his aim. He would see a guideline, one that would give him the perfect shot. With his right hand he notched the spear, it would supplement as an arrow, his raw strength stabilized an otherwise unusable weapon. He inhaled, taking in oxygen and drawing back the string to it's maximum length. Red bolts of mana crackled over the bow emanating from the spear. They danced across his form, arcing around his aura. He took aim using the guideline to create a nearly perfect shot. Then as the air left his lungs the spear left the bow.

No Caption Provided

The shot not only broke the sound barrier, it obliterated it. The sheer force shattered the windows of the buildings it flew by, the air was sliced in it's path. It was a weapon of mass destruction in it's truest form, a solidified collection of mana that was death incarnate. The cursed spear was a weapon who's power was nearly incomprehensible to the human mind, it defied the very laws of their world worked under. The weapon itself reversed the laws of causality and through doing so it's tip always pointed towards the heart of it's target. In a normal situation the cause would be the spear being thrust and the effect would be that it pierced the heart. Attacks on this plane naturally worked that way however, the spear flipped this progression making the cause the spear piercing the heart and the effect the act of it being thrust. Because of this the tip of the spear always aimed for the heart making this something nearly impossible to stop and it was only the beginning of what Maxwell could do.

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#37 Posted by Sionnach001 (121 posts) - - Show Bio

@victoradams: @strigidae_23: @alpha_dog:

"Kill him."

Was the only release Sean needed, he flipped one of the knives blade down and snapped from the shadow in the store room, into the shadow he'd been in up front, and shot like a rocket toward the white clad vigilante being savaged by Dog. He'd thought briefly about hitting the man's motorcycle with an airfoil grenade, but The Dog's proximity ruled that out.

He hit the vigilante like lightning, his hands flashed in a blur, adamantium edged blades striking at the pallid warrior's throat ten times in a second, then Sionnach tucked into a tight flip and kicked off of the bike and back into the waiting shadows. He shadow-stepped back and forth rapidly, ready to spring out again at the best opportunity.

Lesse how this goes ye chancer. If it comes down t' it, we'll bleed ya down a bit at a time if we have te.

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#38 Posted by Lichter (5808 posts) - - Show Bio


Klaus ignored Talvaran's query, unwilling to interrupt whatever Ivana's train of thought might be. She would know him by voice, so he'd not need to introduce himself; if she'd been following the news with any interest, she'd also know that Director Braun had retired. That, and he'd not bothered with trying to stop her escape in Siberia. Instead, when her white-clad subordinate addressed him with such disdain, he'd merely crossed his arms, the cloak folding away to reveal the remainder of his gleaming suit. Only his mask remained hidden, the shining lenses glimmering threateningly.

"Lichter. You smart guy. I like you. But. Everywhere I go.. there is Lichter. I not go to restroom without conversation with Lichter. This become annoying. Yes. This is word. Annoying."

"Do not become like boyfriend who text 'where are you' every fifteen minutes."

"Can you really blame me?" he said, inclining his head slightly to the side, as if chiding the ex-Shogun. He smiled gently, then all Hell broke loose behind him.

The force field surrounding him deflected any and all debris, the sound filtered out due to his helmet. He sighed, fingers flexing. Ivana had already reacted as well, engaging the challenger along with the rest of her entourage. Klaus merely stood still in place, dust clearing as he sighed, shaking his head in disgust. But Ivana was hanging back, exhibiting the same nonchalance with which she'd responded to his sudden appearance earlier. A bemused smile replaced the scornful sneer.

Always on, he thought, looking her up and down. Respectable. But wait...radiation, up above?

Satar? But that would mean...

He narrowed his eyes. Satar had been grievously wounded, so far as he could tell, in the previous fight; the city had been evacuated, and there was nobody to truly terrorize; reclaiming the site now that it was owned by the States would only lead to further retaliation on their part; and Ivana, here, now...but she wouldn't work with him. Now, on the other hand...could it be?

"What did you do to Satar?" he said with a grin. While his face was hidden, she'd be able to tell from his tone of voice that he was amused. He might've just embarrassed himself, making assumptions like that, but he might get lucky once in a while. It wasn't a stretch. He shook his head, looking back to the fight unfolding behind them. He contorted his fingers, shaping the invisible energy field around himself and extending it around Ivana as well. A bubble of pure will mixed with science encapsulated the two of them in the store, closing them off from the rest of the fight. If she pressed against it, however, it would dissipate. He didn't want to be interrupted again by the fighting, but he didn't want to keep her in a box either.

The appearance of Satar, however, and his likely purpose, had brought new light into the Architect's eye. He awaited her response, war erupting outside his octarine barrier.

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#39 Posted by VictorAdams (158 posts) - - Show Bio

@jason_ford: @strigidae_23: @alpha_dog: @sionnach001:

If I learned anything from my time in Special forces, if I learned anything at all it's what a gun sounds like. A few minutes passed until the rest of the Spice Girls arrived, one smelled like wet dog, I hate the smell of wet dog. In those moments no one moved, each person left to their own thoughts, their own devices. A Mexican standoff without the Mexican part. Then an explosion rippled in the distance, a powerful boom that disrupted the silence and disturbed the peace at hand. Speaking of hands, it was about time I threw mine. Gunshots sprayed against the side of the building, I sprung into action diving past the open doorway and behind the remnants of a shelf. From the ringing in my ear they were aiming for my head, I plucked the bullets from the fabric of my mask. With them came blue liquid, the rounds were of a high enough caliber to puncture my cape, luckily the white piece of Kevlar slowed them down enough for the reactive gel to harden halting their momentum. This was low grade military, whoever it was that used these was gonna have to step up their game if they wanna kill me.

The gunfire lasted only a few minutes, before halting entirely. When I rose to my feet, they were nowhere to be seen, the people who could be seen were the ones in the room with me. They weren't to happy about me crashing their party, well news flash, the party sucks anyway.

"Hear this Ghost Guy."

Ivana lifted her rifle, aiming down the holographic sight toward the white clad avenger's knee.

"Kill him."

Here's the thing about guns, it's actually not that hard to dodge a bullet. The bullet travels in a diagonal line downwards if you account for bullet drop however that's still a straight line. When you think of a straight line in comparison to a curved line which one is hard to avoid. The curved because of it's almost unpredictable nature where as a straight line moves along one easy to see path. Thats why something like aim dodging exists, avoid the line the bullet is gonna move in by looking at the barrel. I'm not one for avoiding things though, instead I wait for her finger to move then I drop into a roll. The bullets exit the chamber as I'm tumbling, I can hear them. My hands take hold of a collection of crescent stars mid roll, two of the bullet sail over my shoulders mid tumble. When I rise the white crescent shaped throwing weapons leave my hands, whistling through the air as the five of them moved towards her body. They would instead take the curved path, making it harder to predict where they would strike until the last moment. Two aimed for the eyes, a weak spot on any body, the third sought to fly by her jugular, hopefully, slicing it in the process. The last two would look to land in the barrel of her rifle, disabling it.

There was still the third bullet to worry about, the speed at which they were fired didn't allow for much leeway in terms of hitting a moving target. At the same time they didn't allow much leeway for the target to avoid if it wasn't moving. I can feel it impact the side of my abdomen, it cuts through the Kevlar like butter. The reactive gel serves to slow it down but, it doesn't stop. As for the Zetix, it's designed to take blunt force not piercing things like bullets. The round rips through it like nothing moving through the muscle of my abdomen. It enters but doesn't make an exit, the white of my suit begins to stain red. Oh well, I've taken worse then this before.

"Hear this Foreign lady, I don't die"

"Ya got guts, pal," he snarled at Victor, flexing his clawed hands. "Shame they're about to be varnishin' the floor."

He was fast but, his comments gave me time to prepare. The white cylindrical object known as my Truncheon slides into my right hand. With a sweeping motion his claws swiped through the air, whipping upwards. His nails dragged along the front of my costume leaving a few shallow gashes on my chest. It was sloppy an upward strike would be followed by a downwards one, this time though his nails would be met with my titanium truncheon.

"Looks like puppy needs to be declawed."

The follow up would be oh so sweet, using my free hand I would look to slam my fist into his left rib cage. Punches from me broke peoples bones, when you throw in the tungsten lining my gloves, they obliterate them. If the bones broke then the angle at which I struck should be enough to fragment his rib and send that piece of bone into his lung puncturing it.

As for the third member of this party, he was a sneaky son of a b*tch. From the shadows he emerged swinging a knife like a blur, my intinal reaction was to raise my Truncheon and that was the right one. His knife was made of something sturdy, I could feel it in the hits but, sturdiness didn't equal sharpness. Couple that with the fact that every slash he threw was aimed for a small target and I didn't have to move much to survive. Just as I was about to swing in, he moved, his body somehow making it to the other side of the store just to kick off my bike into the shadows. Honestly it was pretty disrespectful, I'm gonna enjoy beating his skull into a lifeless pulp.

"Gerald, launch."

It would only take seconds, the engine of my bike would roar to life it's lights illuminating the entire store in a blinding white. Her engine would fill it with a disorienting roar that made it hard to even hear. Then she would zoom towards me and the door, with a powerful push of my legs I was in the air, cape flowing around me. My a** landed on the leather seat, at the same time the brick walls on the right and left blew apart, sending debris everywhere. From the right side a long, white stretch limo drove towards the dog from his left. On the right a bright yellow cab from the 1980's aimed to hit him from the right. As for me, my bike carried me out of the building just in time to see that shiny new Scythe fly in. A salvo of rockets swarmed towards the building looking to not only detonate inside but, turn the two vehicles into bombs. I kicked the a** end of the Stallion out skidding to a stop to watch the carnage.

No Caption Provided

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#40 Posted by m-treacle (55 posts) - - Show Bio

@k_brimstone: @maxwell_hastings:

Malcolm jolted back in his seat as a bloom of power flared in his Astral vision. Reflexively, he jammed his eyes shut and threw his arms in front of his face, which of course helped not at all. Closing his eyes actually shut out his physical vision and allowed him only Astral vision. The mage forced his eyes open and sought focus from within to deal with the new background brightness of the new presence.

"Blasphemous Spirits!" He seethed as his eyes streamed.

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#41 Edited by Jason_ford (1100 posts) - - Show Bio

@alpha_dog: @strigidae_23: @sionnach001: @victoradams:

"Move." Arnold ordered, his voice heard only through the comms to the two Blue Bloods. They were far faster than humans, and were attentive and trained enough to know what direction to take to escape the rockets and cars as the ran from the building still invisible, except Darkwing.

Darkwing and his two Blue Bloods moved plenty out of the way and to the ground in mere moments before detonation. Even if they weren't super durable, they were safe. They quickly got their footing as the two invisible Ghost crew moved around the building running after Victor from the sides, not firing. Simply tailing him. Knowing they couldn't be detected without some other kind of sensor than sight or vibration. Darkwing on the other hand, took to the air leaping high and sending an explosive five feet in front of where Victor would be when it detonated. But he wasn't finished, even as he came back down he pulled the nerve gun. A weapon designed to send special electromagnetic energy into a target and boil them from the inside out, it would be extremely painful but not yet deadly. It was not high enough setting for that. He'd fire it as he fell to the ground keeping it trained on the motorcyclist until it did its damage, especially since it would only cut off if it either ran out of energy or he released the trigger, neither would happen soon.


The groups of invisible and silent ex military snipers set all over Gothic now were ordered to take out anyone who wasn't in league with Ivana or who might cause a threat to Red Mask and his allies.

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#42 Posted by Sionnach001 (121 posts) - - Show Bio

@jason_ford: @alpha_dog: @strigidae_23: @victoradams: @lichter:

Sean was forced to shadow-step into the rear of the 7-11 when the motorcycle lit up the front of the store. He was about to renew his attack when he saw the white air craft launch frigging rockets at the place. He jumped to grab and carry Ivana into a shadow to carry her out, sheathing the two razor sharp blades as he did. As he reached out for her he almost dislocated his shoulders as he smacked into something that glowed faintly around her and a...cape?

She seemed safe enough in the glow, and he let himself fall into another shadow and step out of there and into a building down the corner to intercept the white scut.

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#43 Posted by K_Brimstone (902 posts) - - Show Bio

@k_brimstone: @maxwell_hastings:

Malcolm jolted back in his seat as a bloom of power flared in his Astral vision. Reflexively, he jammed his eyes shut and threw his arms in front of his face, which of course helped not at all. Closing his eyes actually shut out his physical vision and allowed him only Astral vision. The mage forced his eyes open and sought focus from within to deal with the new background brightness of the new presence.

"Blasphemous Spirits!" He seethed as his eyes streamed.

Stone steered The Brick through the streets of East Gothic, headed north, keeping a lookout for any of the orange and black suited Satar troops, or the unknown stealth agents. The latter of whom he was scanning for mainly through satellite tracking. Treacle would be doing a more thorough scan with his powers, Stone just had to make absolutely sure to not even come close to touching him. Either way, they were headed toward a target rich environment and they needed to be razor sharp then Treacle acted like something bit him.

"Did you have an accident or something?" Stone drawled, "Do you need a new set of underwear?"

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

Claws, Claws and Claws.

Absent wasn’t even an accurate description of Envy’s known state to the world. ‘Vanished’ was a much better explanation of the mutant terrorist’s recent status. The populace assumed his disappearance was a positive sign for humanity and a step towards homo-sapien and superior cohesion. They couldn’t have been farther from the truth. No one could truly fathom what it was he was devising or if he was in fact alive at all.

Instead of finding tranquility or reprieve, he was drilling himself in combat and partnering with lesser known mutants in the world that held abilities remarkably scarce in the world. His base of operations had varied in the Venezuela wilderness where others had seldomly traversed through, mostly due in part of the treacherous odyssey it would take to reach his home. It was an uninhabited place just as he usually preferred and it suited his needs. Detached and away from prying eyes.

Yet, because of Ivana’s recent abdication of the throne, he no longer felt the mutant haven was recognizable. Despite being the pinnacle for his species’ presence in the world, it was alien to him. The clawed guerrilla was simply that, a soldier that lacked a war to fight in. A rebel without a cause. A river without a source. That was until now. The gyration of a blacked out chinook helicopter circulating in the air reverberated within his ear canal, pounding his auditory nerve like the beating of war drums. A few thousand feet above Gothic city, his battle scarred gaze fell down upon the desolation beneath him. He grinned in anticipation knowing that his cohorts had been making their move already.

Undeterred by her renunciation of Venezuela, he would always claim Ivana as not only his leader, but that of mutant kind. She was the face of their species that he could not be. She held a voice that amassed the attention of nations while Envy’s fell on deaf ears. Much like the other allies that refused to abandon her and one an other, he would fight where he was told. This was the amount of trust mutants placed upon each other that was seemingly absent from the primitive sapiens.


The infamous terrorist barked with ferocity towards the cockpit of the chopper. A small turn of the pilot’s head was enough confirmation he needed to know that they were listening intently.

“Send a coded message to our soon to be allies. I need to know where I’m needed.”

Norman, the pilot handling the direction and altitude was also a telepath that believed in the values that Envy had held dearly. A devout disciple of his teachings although he was still a recent addition. Nodding in agreement, he placed a kevlar gloved finger to his temple, focusing his attention to those below that held the X-gene, being careful to scan as many minds as he could to focus on the ground commanders brain waves, hopefully finding her @ivana_strigidae.

The carnivorous smirk remained plastered on his stubbled face. The sheathing and unsheathing of his vibranium talons exhibiting his thirst for conflict it had felt so long since he had tossed himself into a fray that the estrangement felt like an addict without a fix. It was time once again to show the globe what he had spent his time attaining.

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#45 Posted by m-treacle (55 posts) - - Show Bio

@m-treacle said:

@k_brimstone: @maxwell_hastings:

Malcolm jolted back in his seat as a bloom of power flared in his Astral vision. Reflexively, he jammed his eyes shut and threw his arms in front of his face, which of course helped not at all. Closing his eyes actually shut out his physical vision and allowed him only Astral vision. The mage forced his eyes open and sought focus from within to deal with the new background brightness of the new presence.

"Blasphemous Spirits!" He seethed as his eyes streamed.

Stone steered The Brick through the streets of East Gothic, headed north, keeping a lookout for any of the orange and black suited Satar troops, or the unknown stealth agents. The latter of whom he was scanning for mainly through satellite tracking. Treacle would be doing a more thorough scan with his powers, Stone just had to make absolutely sure to not even come close to touching him. Either way, they were headed toward a target rich environment and they needed to be razor sharp then Treacle acted like something bit him.

"Did you have an accident or something?" Stone drawled, "Do you need a new set of underwear?"

"No, dolt." Malcolm responded tersely. "There is tremendous magic in play in this city now. I don't know where it's come from, or why, but there are very serious goings on happening or about to happen here. I would suggest that we not simply drive around in circles looking for it."

"Don't misunderstand." This next was difficult for him to say in the extreme, "For all of our distaste for each other, I have the utmost respect for your skills, but I don't think you understand the magnitude of the threats that must be out there right now. I believe we need to get to a place of safety and get a better idea of what's before us, and then strike, rather than simply wandering into a situation we might well not be able to deal with."

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#46 Edited by K_Brimstone (902 posts) - - Show Bio

@k_brimstone said:
@m-treacle said:

@k_brimstone: @maxwell_hastings:

Malcolm jolted back in his seat as a bloom of power flared in his Astral vision. Reflexively, he jammed his eyes shut and threw his arms in front of his face, which of course helped not at all. Closing his eyes actually shut out his physical vision and allowed him only Astral vision. The mage forced his eyes open and sought focus from within to deal with the new background brightness of the new presence.

"Blasphemous Spirits!" He seethed as his eyes streamed.

Stone steered The Brick through the streets of East Gothic, headed north, keeping a lookout for any of the orange and black suited Satar troops, or the unknown stealth agents. The latter of whom he was scanning for mainly through satellite tracking. Treacle would be doing a more thorough scan with his powers, Stone just had to make absolutely sure to not even come close to touching him. Either way, they were headed toward a target rich environment and they needed to be razor sharp then Treacle acted like something bit him.

"Did you have an accident or something?" Stone drawled, "Do you need a new set of underwear?"

"No, dolt." Malcolm responded tersely. "There is tremendous magic in play in this city now. I don't know where it's come from, or why, but there are very serious goings on happening or about to happen here. I would suggest that we not simply drive around in circles looking for it."

"Don't misunderstand." This next was difficult for him to say in the extreme, "For all of our distaste for each other, I have the utmost respect for your skills, but I don't think you understand the magnitude of the threats that must be out there right now. I believe we need to get to a place of safety and get a better idea of what's before us, and then strike, rather than simply wandering into a situation we might well not be able to deal with."

There was a time for giving Treacle crap, and there was time for giving the man what he was due. If this pompous ass could deal straight, so could Stone.

"Got it." Stone slowed The Brick and did a U Turn as soon as he was able, still keeping an eye on HUD scanners.

"Random, do me a favor and keep the static going on our former path, and keep us jammed until we get set up where we're going until I give the kill signal, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah...don't think I'm fooled by all the super politeness," Random quipped.

"Roger," Was all Stone felt up to replying. There was too much going on, more players were at work than he had any hope of guessing, and he had little intelligence. It was time to start working the problem, and fast, before things got too hot, too quick.

The pulled into the shell of an old machine shop, and had Random put out all sensors, while Treacle reached out with every magical sense and spirit he could.

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#47 Posted by Sionnach001 (121 posts) - - Show Bio

@jason_ford: @alpha_dog: @strigidae_23: @victoradams: @lichter:

Sean's normally bright eyes darkened as he slid out of the shadow onto the second story of the building. He did a quick eyeball of the situation, the 7-11 was flaming shell, the fishbelly white git had stopped for a tic to admire his handiwork. He couldn't see Dog, had no clue if Ivana was alright, there were a few other folks around, but except for his Skull Masked ally, he didn't know the others, and they were more or less just mucking about.

Then he laid eyes on the crescent shaped air craft and knew what to do next. He'd attacked White Head (which he now decided to call the git), because it had been the only thing to do, but it wasn't what he was best at. He let his mind open and let the spacial calculations come to him, rather than try to make the impossible factoring himself, then he slid back into the shadow and peered out of another.

He couldn't fit his body into the engine cowling of the crescent shaped beast that hovered in front of wreckage of the 7-11. He could, however, easily pull the pins on, and throw two of his air foil grenades from the shadow, and stick the tips into some of the wiring, and softer plastics in the housing. With that done, he simply stepped back from the shadow of his original perch. Unobserved, unseen, and unscathed.

That was the kind of mayhem Sionnach was best at.

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#48 Posted by Emperor_von_Doom (3995 posts) - - Show Bio

They haven't noticed us yet.

Albion Corr lurked in the shadows of a blown-out building, his Sniper-pattern Bolter rifle resting on his shoulder. The pauldrons of his armor were obscured by a thick cape, otherwise the bold white of his Legion iconography would give him away. As part of the Black Wings, he had become accustomed to moving without a sound, even in the strength-enhancing confines of his power armor. The beaked helmet turned slightly, careful eyes behind red panes of specialized glass observing his surroundings for nearly a mile out.

The ruins gave him perfect cover. Without hesitation, he removed the scope again from the holster on his belt.

Three of them now. Scouting for a convoy movement. Can't engage.

Each street was clogged with enemies. His breaths were short, concise, and supernaturally quiet. Albion squeezed the trigger to his tele device. An alien form of numerical code went out on invisible strings. Elsewhere, his squadmates deciphered the message quickly. They were on the other side of the city, two in this group. The others were stationed elsewhere in closely-guarded spots and makeshift hideaways in the metropolis undergrowth.

Tarvis grunted as the antenna of the vox caster on Lemartes' back bounced.

"Still pouring in from the sound of things. Albion reports another scouting group, belonging to this Satar guy. They're preparing another convoy into the city with reinforcements,"

Lemartes didn't like waiting around, and hearing this sent a bad taste through his mouth. His encarmine armor and winged crimson droplet displayed him as one of the Blood Acolytes, honored assault troops of the Imperium. Tarvis hovered his standard Bolter rifle out of the corner of the doorway at the first sign of random noise, though it was nothing. The stalwart legionary of the Champions of Steel only stifled another short sigh in response. He and his cohorts were never ones for conversation, but rather brutal and concise results.

His scarlet-clad brother-legionary sent out a stronger signal, one that would reach to the other two-man squads. In total, they were split up ten ways, each of the twenty legionaries assigned to this task. Again, the message had been recoded and mathematically scrambled so that only those familiar with it could actually read it. Despite their campaign of secrecy, it would truly be hard to ignore a series of nine-foot-tall superhuman warriors.

Meanwhile, Albion urged his teammate to come closer to the cusp of the broken window he inhabited.

Severax of the Knights of Terror leaned forward, his intensely scarred features concealed by a terrifying fanged helmet.

He nodded.

The slaughter would begin soon.

"Coordinates from the ground are here sir,"

The rebreather-fitted helmet rattled with the noise of the Legionary speaking. His commanding officer, wearing Cataphractii-pattern Terminator armor, slowly raised a hand normally reserved for the grip of a Power Scythe. With the iconography of the Legio Mortis emblazoned on his shoulder, it would have seemed that he was indeed prepared to begin the scheduled bombardment of the area. Instead, the captain of the vessel responded verbally

"Relay orbital strike patterns to the Anvil. Let the Champions of Steel sort this out,"

Normally, the phosphex and radioactive armaments of the Legio Mortis would have wiped out entire star systems. Yet this man held back. Captain Erasmus, honored legion-brother and veteran of the Great Crusade, saw no continued point in using such munitions against a mere city. The battle barge he occupied, his Deathbringer, floated idly as the message was again transmitted to the Anvil.

"We were given strict orders to keep casualties to a minimum. Whoever's still down there is going to wish they were never even born."

"Yes sir."

Ferrox watched the information patterns closely. He had some training in deciphering the numerical code, but always found it alarming just how quickly the mathematical equations changed in transit. Truly no one could break that code, except for those explicitly knowledgeable of it.

"My Legion Master, the Deathbringer has relayed the coordinates the ground team gathered,"

Cold and calculating, the Legion Master of the Champions of Steel looked out over the planet Earth. Long had he broken worlds, torn them asunder merely on the whim of his Emperor and father. He gained emotional satisfaction from the reassurances of Doom, but something in the back of his mind always lured him to the depths of clockwork and machines. Mathematically speaking, this first example of the Primarch project was a perfect specimen of cold, cruel logic. His ways of war were turned towards the brutal grinding of attrition and artillery engagements. No longer were the ways of battle meant to be waged with sticks and stones, but orbital strikes and weapons made to tear a man apart with a single round.

He did not reply to this information, initially at least.

Indeed, the savage logistics of Argul Vandt consumed him every moment of every day. When he was not waging war, his bitterness and loathing for the unnatural and unkempt twisted his mind. Everything had an order. Everything had a purpose. That is what his father taught him, what Doom taught him, and he took it to the core of his being.

"Prepare the solid munitions. Warn the strike team of what's about to happen."

"Of course, my lord."

Lemartes crouched low, and his Champions of Steel teammate took notice.

"They're going to use solid munitions. Orbital bombardment to soften the city,"

"Who's launching it?" Tarvis grunted coldly.

"Your Legion Master,"

"Then he plans on erasing this place off the map. We need to get underground. Did you relay the message to the other teams?"

"Already done. Let's move."

Severax visibly cringed once Albion put out a hand for him to stop moving. The Centurion of the Knights of Terror never took kindly to legionaries from other sectors giving him orders, especially when it was to stop fighting.

But he could tell what was happening. Albion would have covered him regardless, and a distraction headshot on the three-strong scouting team would have been enough for him to open up and rend the other two to pieces with his chainsword. Something came in through his silenced earpiece, but he could still recognize what the order was despite its almost muted disposition.

He nodded, and followed the Black Wings sniper commander out of the ruins. There was a subway entrance not too far from where they were. Hopefully, it wasn't fortified.

"Erasmus is not using the rad-bombs?" Phodon inquired, his chemical-flamer resting in his hands as they moved through the storm drain.

"As far as I know, Argul Vandt has usurped command of the orbital strike as well. He is Doom's own son, though I think I would have preferred your legion's phosphex weapons," Bomir of the Bronze Beasts explained with his power axe between both gauntlets and his combat shield strapped to his right forearm. The bull emblem of his legion almost could have visibly snorted, for all the heat in his words.

"Ah, my poor captain. Always so careful,"

"Another reason why we're not deep enough."

"Indeed, brother."

Ferrox did not budge in his power armor. His eyes were locked on the progress of the various servitor-teams loading the truly immense munitions for the orbital cannons locked on Gothic City's coordinates.

He wondered what kind of people they were, what they ate and breathed, or if they spoke. He knew of a certain one of these Earthlings that his Emperor had befriended, but he did not know if they were all the same, and why or why not the Symaarians were not inherent allies to all of them instead of just one. Perhaps he was a king or a planetary ruler? Or just an old patriot of some ancient and unrecorded war?

He wondered what the strike team saw down there, what kind of tactics the Earthlings used. What biological abnormalities... apparently they were almost distant cousins, the Symaarians and humans. Except, according to the information somehow preserved from before the Dark Age, the Symaarians evolved from The Navigator, and his draconic form gave them the designation Homo Draconis instead of Homo Sapien.

According to some rogue documented theories and isolated cases, there were even Homo Superior on this world. Something else entirely spawned some decades ago called New Gods, as well. Ferrox wondered if they were truly different, or if they were all the same part of a radically expanding ecosystem.

"The munitions as ordered by the Legion Master are prepared, my lord," a servitor crawled up to him and said, his treaded lower body hissing with hydraulic effort.

Though, Ferrox needn't wonder for very much longer.

"As the Legion Master orders, let it be done. Destroy them all and let the Emperor sort them out - He knows His own."

"Terminare Iniusta. Expurgate Immundum."

"Terminate the Unjust. Purge the Unclean."

In the Great Crusade, the full might of a Legion is terrifying to behold.

Entire cities crumble.

Planets quake.

Populations are erased.

These are the hallmarks of bringing a noncompliant world to heel. These are the shadows of a Legionary invasion.

As the sky crashes down upon them, remember...

The Emperor is with you.

Do not pity those he has chosen for you to destroy.

For they would show no such kindness to you in turn.

A single round from the depths of a battle barge is considered Omega-class destruction. Carrying with it is an explosive warhead almost ten feet in diameter, driven like a railroad spike into the hearts of the enemy with a muzzle velocity out of the Armageddon-cannon barrel dwarfing that of any modern artillery gun yet on Earth.

As the skies opened up, the scream of the sound barrier being shattered like glass rippled in every listening ear as the atmospheric gases heated the offending objects into white-hot harbingers of disaster.

One of these Earthbreaker shots had the potential of causing enough of a reverberating tremor to incite seismic activity.

Only now, hundreds of them poured down from the unrelenting cannons of the Champions of Steel.

Argul Vandt was never one to show any mercy.

His cruel logic demanded it.

No Caption Provided

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#49 Posted by K_Brimstone (902 posts) - - Show Bio

Stone had taken Treacle's warning seriously. He had even been near the business end of an artillery barrage before, and it was not an exaggeration to equate it to Hell on earth. This made being Danger Close seem like...no there was no comparison. Ear splitting explosions blasted, small earthquakes jolted The Brick off of it's wheels, the shell of the reinforced garage they were in simply collapsed in on them. The structure might even have done severe damage to the vehicle if not for whatever glowing sphere Treacle had thrown up the kept the wreckage from pinning them under the thousands of pounds of debris.

"'THE F..." Random began to screech as Stone jammed The Brick into gear and bounced the heavily armored vehicle out as the building collapsed in on itself and the soldier fishtailed the SUV into the street, the glowing sphere radiating outward. Treacle let out a "woof" of expelled air as the wind screen polarized to keep them from being blinded by the endless strobes of brilliant flame that kept erupting.

Stone knew better than to try to "outrun" artillery, all he could do was activate the stabilizer arms on The Brick, and hope they didn't suffer any direct effects from the bombardment.

"I love this town." He lied through clenched teeth.

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#50 Posted by m-treacle (55 posts) - - Show Bio


Gothic City wailed in pain and terror as her very being was rent and violated. The shock of it almost kept Malcolm from realizing their predicament, each turgid impact of the massive bomb loads was felt in his body more than experienced through his other senses. It was almost too late when the crashing wave of brick, mortar and steel began to fall in and claim them.

Fortunately, instinct and years of preparation served him better than thought. Reflexively he activated the Rossum's Palpable Impediment Spell bound to the Orichalcum infused tattoo on his left arm. With the tattoo he did not have to take even the mere second or two necessary to cast the spell, it was, simply because he desired it to be. The solid sphere of magic and will appeared as commanded, however it was not without price. Every act of magical energy needed fuel, in this case his own personal mana...or life force, and to strengthen the spell enough hold back such immense weight took a great deal in such a short time.

Malcolm's breath was snatched from his body in an instant, his lithe body was instantly soaked in sweat, and his vision swam. His steel will, however kept them from being crushed under the weight. He didn't have to hold the fallen building long though, as Brimstone darted his vehicle out of the bath of the collapsing structure and out into the dubious safety of the street. As the massive weight fell away, his breath came back to him in a rush, though he kept the Physical Barrier Spell in place. Who knew what might come at them next, however the drain on his mana was much lighter for now. At the very least, he was able to shield them from the worst of the waves of explosive pressure that worked rhythmically against them.