"Vive La Revolution" (Quinn Response; Open)

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#1 Posted by Cognus_ (258 posts) - - Show Bio

Élysée Palace

Thankless and dissatisfied. How can a nation of invertebrates, cowering under the boots of rival nations discover the misguided courage to attempt and ‘protest’ me? Have I done something wrong or unjust? Like unruly children that have learned nothing of the world’s horrors or capacity for devastation, they think they know better than I, their elected president. Fools. I’ll show them that they need me. They need everything that I have offered and promised, just as they had demanded for when I was running for office.

“Monsieur Mercier, dissenters have reached the outer gates with signs. They’re rather enraged Sir, but they lack weapons from the looks of it.

Quinn shifts his stern gaze to the militant standing before him. After he had dismissed the traditional personal guard and hired his own group of blackwater soldiers, people weren’t as trustworthy as they had been. It bothered him not. Only a handful of the nation’s soldiers could be trusted, but even they had their moral limits. Afraid to go the distance that France needed of them.

“Do they have hands?”

The guard in black fatigues and pistol strapped to his hip raised an eyebrow. Perplexed whether the question was literal or rhetorical. Against his better judgement, he nodded in affirmation, grinding his teeth in fear that The President would call upon his left hand sentinel known only as Cognus, infamous for acting as the Presidents own living armament.

“Then answer me this, Soldier. If they have hands, they can turn them into fists, correct? And if their hands become fists, they become weapons.”

He stood slowly, grasping the edge of his table and gritting his teeth, thousands of scenarios and endings playing out in his head that had depended on how he handled this delicate situation and what would be deemed the appropriate response. His eyes darted at an apparitional schematic or chessboard, inspecting himself as king and his army as pawns. It would be time soon enough to call upon his Knights and Bishops. Even the Queen and Rooks perhaps.

………………………………...........

An hour later

“Ladies and Gentlemen of France.”

The old microphones and sirens utilized in World War II once again buzzed back to life, this time however, reverberating with the sound of their President who had done well to cause a stir within a few self proclaimed separatists that disagreed with the way he was attempting to handle things.

“Without provocation or rationalized deliberation, a strong, loud and admirable crowd stands before the home you elected me to reside in. They wave signs and banners mocking the government, myself, and in turn France, because of my failure as President to swiftly acknowledge the recent hate crimes that have been committed these past few months. I stand humble as they order an answer from me and I am nothing but a servant to the people and so….I will respond.”

His last sentence was breathed out slowly as if he would regret that it had come to this. Falsely emulating guilt and shame that his people turned upon him. Artificially of course on the exterior, but within his own mind, he was aware that this was an eventual obstacle on his path towards French achievement. There would be dissenters, rioters and looters. They assert there is no violence intended, but they come with fire in their hearts and clenched fingers. Civil War is inevitable, but there would only be one victor, and this endeavor of a coup would fail. Quinn was no Louis XVI.

“This assemblage of fellow citizens are lead by Americans. Why are foreigners stepping on our soil when we begin to strengthen ourselves as a nation and their country ventures to cut diplomatic ties? Is this march of so called, ‘peace and equality’ not similar to their own that spurred the destruction of Gothic City? I am but a man. As much as I try or desire, I have no control on the free will of others. Yes, I signed the execution orders of Adeline Clemence, a infamous terrorist who happened to be a mutant. Would I have not done the same if he were human? Answer me that.”

He let out another long sigh escape his lips through the intercom, once again, with mock mortification. Luring in those that were now becoming skeptical.

“If you suspect me of arming soldiers with non-lethal means of apprehending individuals suspected of crimes, then you are correct. I have. Are these means of capture strong enough to restrain mutants? Absolutely, because they need to be. If you have suspected me and fellow officials of preparing the orchestration of a mutant registration act….Then you are also correct.”

He was ready for the yelling and frustrated shouting as these plans were only rumors, spoken in dim bars or hushed political meetings that still needed to pass the other state powers, but it was almost complete and ready to be signed by the fellow branches. He needed to explain further, to sympathize with the mob, particularly the outnumbering humans.

“….but before you hurl your disgust, ask yourselves again, ‘do we need not register a gun?' 'If I am a master of martial arts capable of lethal force, do I need not register my body?' 'If I hold anything able to effectively cause harm to others, do I need not register it?' I am not asking for the purging nor the expulsion of any group of peoples." YET LOL

"Only that they comply in what may pass as a registration act. For the safety of those that do not carry arms. For the people that were not imbued with powers beyond our understanding at birth. For us average people…Thank you for listening and hopefully, understanding. Please now, disperse. France today, France Tomorrow.”

His finger let go of the loudspeaker, letting the red button the reset into it’s off position before turning to the assembled people before him. The likeminded ones that understood what it was Quinn was truly trying to accomplish and shared a likeminded vision of a world without the rapidly growing and outnumbering mutants that seemed to have plagued the world. Still under the guise of the President, he left his ivory suit and mask hidden and protected with his dual cutlass pistols, ready to snag them when they were needed most.

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#2 Posted by XRiskyX (12700 posts) - - Show Bio

The sirens sounded. This was war. Now it was official.

Like mist the sound crept through the streets till even the most dumb witted inhabitant of the French capital had understood it. During World War 2 these sirens had seen their last use but now their threatening wail proved to be a good omen again. But this time it was no warning from a looming threat from above but from a hidden enemy within.

Once again a scapegoat had been chosen. And once more it had been an innocent minority. One that was too easy to hate because they were different. The hate and anti-mutant sentiments were almost palpable in the air. They hung there like a heavy curtain or an electric voltage that felt strangely, rather uncomfortably, tickling on the skin. She knew it from tales of her grandmother whose name she bore, how unwelcome she as a Jew had felt in Berlin during the Third Reich. She knew it from the pictures of the concentration camps in Buchenwald, Belsen and Auschwitz

She knew it herself as a mutant. All around the world she had witnessed similar camps in which degradation, filth and steel had been used to destroy her people. Hundreds, if not thousands of bodies embryonically huddled together in the darkness of genocidal pits to be thrown into the gaping maws of never expiring ovens. Hate, hate and more hate. Without reason. Without rhyme.

Her life had been dedicated to prevent such atrocities. The world had seen several enormous holocausts. The mutants would not be the latest addition.

With this firm knowledge in her mind she reached for the switch. All preparations had been made. Allies had been chosen. Plans had been made. Wires and connections had been cut. France would not become a second Germany.

KLICK

The switch flipped. Shortly after President Mercier’s message the image of a beautiful pale woman with raven hair and ruby lips filled Paris’ screens. To the public those deep blue eyes who stared at them now were very familiar. Familiar and dreaded. For almost one year this legendary monster had lain still and played dead only to rise like the mythical leviathan again.

Ruby Theodora Glassmann. Former Army Ranger. Now mutant terrorist. Or mutant freedom fighter. Dependent on who you asked. As she spoke her voice was calm and collected and still it thundered through the historical alleys louder than the sirens before. Everyone held his breath to her the terrible gospel she was about to spread.

“Dear France…

I do not know how to express my terror. You, you of all nations! The cradle of modern democracy!

I do not blame you for electing Mercier. He did a good job of hiding his true intentions, the magnitude of his hate. I blame you for not stopping him! You blame the Germans, even the Americans, for not stopping people like Hitler or Stark and allow a monster who plans to murder a significant part of your population to go on with his horrible ways. His ugly face has finally been revealed as he seized ALL power in your nation and nothing was done to prevent that.

Because of that I am forced to create a starting point. Whoever wants to help me is welcome. The Unified Mutant Underground is with me here and accepts every supporter. I will begin with taking something from the people of Paris like Mercier plans to take from us. He wants to take our lifeblood? I will take your water. He wants to take our light? I will take yours.

We will see how long Paris can manage without electricity and water. In a few hours everything will go black as the water and power plants belong to us. The war will be taken to the streets. And we will recognize our own. Be sure of that.

Good night.”

With these words the screens went black again and released the people of Paris into an uncertain future.

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#3 Posted by Cassius_Knightfall (12600 posts) - - Show Bio

The world has never seen true equality. Not for anyone. Be it based on race, sexuality gender or species there is always prejudice. Mutant hatred and the persecution of the evolution of the human gene was today's lesser publicized prejudice. For his entire life, Cassius Knightfall had not truly fought for his fellow mutants. His brother had tried to show him the pieces of the game but he had refused to play. Now he had nothing to lose. Hated by the people of his homeland, his assets lost in red tape after his death and his memories cloudy and not entirely back under his control.

This was his time to rebuild himself a new focus on the matters that meant the most. In his moments of confusion and doubt, he found a new purpose an enforcer for a cause he believed in. He joined The Unified Mutant Underground. Already seen as a terrorist his presence was never shown directly as it would affect the working of the underground. So he watched and assisted for months, days and weeks bringing more of the old Cassius back but something wasn't right. His hands twitched his eyes stung and his body knotted up and flared up almost daily, it ached it needed to be conditioned. Then he picked up his weapons again and the path was set before him. First, he was a soldier of god for the catholic church, then a soldier of fortune for himself now he was warrior with a cause. A Selfless warrior.

France

"First we distract, then we destroy. Most agencies will assess the validity of our threats via deploying their top fireteams. So we get the A-teams to go south so we can push north without their best to oppose us. If we set their targets far enough away from our point of interest we give ourselves a major advantage in the field. I will join the front line myself unless there are any objections?"

Silence followed

"Ok then give me 5 men in my team, i want them with me twenty-four hours a day for the next three weeks. These people need to know their brothers inside out. To work as a unit we must at first become one."

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#4 Edited by N_ (19 posts) - - Show Bio

@cognus_:

No Caption Provided

A patch of wall in Mercier's office opened, a glowing orange swirl of color. From it emerged an unarmed young man, with green hair and a hat. He held in one hand a clipboard, and in the other a briefcase. Waving one hand, he closed the portal. "President Mercier. You seem to be having some difficulties, of late. Perhaps we can be of assistance. My organization is... rather secretive, in it's methods, but you may have heard of us. We call ourselves N. Our primary source of income is selling what you would call 'powers.' But what we give, we can also take away, quite easily. As a show of good faith, one of our partners will restore your fair city's lights, should your attackers follow through on their threats."

"My associate, a Mister Crowley. You may know him, I'm told he's quite the legend in the intelligence community. As I was saying... in exchange for what I assure you is a fair price, and your signature on these forms, I can provide you with the contents of this briefcase. Enough of a custom-made formula that targets the M-Gene to be disseminated throughout all of France. Simply put, a plague that targets only mutants. Or you can handle this veritable... revolution on your own."

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#5 Edited by Vael (296 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided

Vael gazed out at the protesting crowd from her vantage point in the Presidential Palace. The media had commented once or twice on the appearance of a mysterious woman that seemed to spend a lot of time visiting the Palace since the election of France's latest President. That she wore elegant and almost mid-eval dresses softened the speculation a bit and refocused it instead on her possible identity.

For her part, Vael was unconcerned with media speculation. Nothing untoward was happening behind closed doors, she was merely an ally who spent her time with him preparing for the next phase of his plans. When the protests began she went to the nearest window and a slow smirk crept across her beautiful face. Peasants.

She didn't know if the President of France was in the room or not when she spoke aloud. "You shouldn't let the unwashed masses pretend they have power. Let them think what they will, but these protests are dangerous, it's only a matter of time before peasants become violent when gathered in large groups."

She smirked again and shook her head, letting the curtain fall to block the window once more and turning her back (quite literally) on the protesters. Even the 'extremists' of this world are too squeamish, we should butcher the lot of them, send a message about what happens when you resist your lawful government. This is what you get for having 'elections' as if the words of the people hold any real value.

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#6 Posted by Zafir_Karim (492 posts) - - Show Bio

With a group this large assembled there was bound to be something to occur. In several places in the crowd a man with a large scar across his face went around begging. But secretly he was doing much more. Placing remote detonated emp's strategically to destroy maximum electronic devices, but avoid several specific locations with speakers that Z would speak through. But non of this was a certainty to be used. Only if the crowd was attacked would Z be given his perfect excuse.

The scarred man was merely a citizen who was hypnotized to be loyal to Z but not lose his intellect, memory, or skills. He worked out and had minor martial arts experience but he was no warrior, just someone for Z to use who would be loyal to his cause. An android, something Z hated to use and also cost a lot, set up hidden tracking machine guns that could be set to fire on French military forces automatically be exiting crates or boxes. The android itself was made of steel mostly with kevlar armor underneath its clothing as well as having a right arm that could fire shotgun shells and a left arm that had three small rockets inside it. The android was pre-programmed and needed no more communication from Z just like the scarred man wouldn't. But again, this was all merely set up in the case Z needed it to be used. If it turned out no violence broke out than nothing would happen.

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#7 Edited by _Reynard_ (3203 posts) - - Show Bio

Outside Élysée Palace, France

Almost fifty years ago, Arlo and Atticus were too busy kicking the shit out of some mutants in Metro city for causing some property damage. Now, he was the one burning red, white, and blue flags and telling them choke on their legislative acts at the top of his lungs. Crowds had formed when he had told some of his contacts to spread the word. It was nice to see that his name still held some weight among the superhuman community, despite all his years in self-imposed exile.

Atticus smiled at the at the speech the President was making, as he was trying to demonize him in the eyes of the media. Maybe twenty years ago he would have cared about his PR. The American government cared more than he did. They would have to either choose to side with Reynard, an enemy of the French democracy, assist the French madman they had in office, or do nothing. They couldn’t possibly take a stand against both and appear piteous.

The President’s words had only enticed the crowds to rage harder, they were ready to tear down the gates the moment he said “Ladies and Gentlemen of France.” When he finished by telling them to go back to their homes, some of them had already started breaking car windows with their bats and kicking down light posts.

No Caption Provided

What truly made the crowds act was the second speech, spoken by a woman who looked like she had taken a swim in a Clorox pool, after getting punched in the eye by her abusive ex-boyfriend. She claimed to represent the fabled Unified Mutant Underground. Atticus had heard of their exploits, he expected to come across them at some point.

Anyone who wanted to help the mutant cause was his friend.

If there was one thing that could get humans and mutants to work together was their common hate for the government. No matter the race, species, or age. Atticus believed that people had an innate distaste towards an openly controlling for of establishment. As a man of the people and punk rock aficionado, he shared the feeling with the common man.

“Dandy. Non-lethal cache. Prepare tear gas. Target French officials. Have fun.” Atticus playfully slapped the Tin Man’s tight ass like a Football coach. Giving him a thumb up with a smile that reeked confidence in his creation.

Atticus slammed a motorcycle against a high-class winery with his telekinesis, stepping over the shards he lifted a bottle of Liafador cabernet and opened the cork with his teeth. “An Italian bottle. Produced by a Spanish family, who gained popularity in America. Sold in a Paris winery. Now that's an effective globalism campaign.” Huge gulps of liquid went down his throat until the bottle was empty. He sent it flying towards the wall when the last drop had made its way down his stomach, through his esophagus.

“Vive la Revolution.”

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#8 Edited by Charlemagne (7209 posts) - - Show Bio

"HAHAHA France dude, can you believe it?" cheered an eager American mutant. "VIVA LA Revolution" his equally excited friend added. The intercontinental flight had been long, but had done little to quell their youthful enthusiasm. "Should we unpack first or just hit the scene? I wanna get in there before the real shit kicks off, ya know? Case they get to crack'n skulls, I dont wanna miss my chance at whoopin some human ass" And so they did. Abandoning their luggage and the unceremonious duty of unpacking for later, the two liberal, all-be it somewhat militant minded advocates departed their hotel suit. Carrying the hyper-charged intensity out into the hall, careless and unapologetic in their social disregard for anyone within ear shot.

"Yo! Watch it greybush" shouldering passed an unassuming patron as he attempted to enter his room. "You wouldnt wanna get fried would ya?" they antagonized further. Snapping both their fingers quickly displaying their pyrokinetic gifts with small yet impressive bursts of finger-tipped flames, presumably in an attempt to mock and intimidate. But the stranger simply carried on with his initial design, crouching down to re-gather his room-key and peacefully slip into the comfort of his own room.

"What a bitch. Come on dude let the geriatric go. Probably nap time." Though un-original their combined laughter thoroughly followed them down the hall as the left. While meanwhile, inside the elders room....."I'm proud of you, you know that." The angelic commentary was a soothing wave of internal tranquility. "You're not really here." the old man replied. "When has that ever mattered Charles? I'll always be here - wherever that may be, because you are....." the voice grew distant. Fading into the ether in which it had sprung. Leaving the man to retreat to the queen sized bed and the bottle of Scotch on the nightstand.

A small almost unrecognizable photo leaned up against the alcoholic beverage. The only keep-sake the retreated mutant slayer had, the only anchor of a renewed he had left. His eyes never wandering from it as he drank, even taking it; and the bottle with him as he maneuvered over by the Victorian style window. "Look at em. A decade later and they've all but taken over everything."Curled lips optically premiered a flash of the notorious vitriol of the Ultra-Sapien. Gazing down upon the Pro-Mutant crowd, Charlemagne's fists quivered with tempered rage. Simultaneously his focus shifted, arrested by the familiar cadence of the antagonistic mutant duo, joking and roughhousing outside his door on their way back to their room. "How could you forget the signs? Jackass hahaha" And again, as if called upon through fear of relapse, the delicate voice appeared. "They are not your enemy Charles, remember? They are simply trying to find their place in the world, as are we all. Please.....come away from the window. Read to me.......read to me Charles.....Charles?"

Moments later - *knock knock*

"Yeah? Oh damn, look at this shit hahah, what the phk you want old man?"

-----------------------------------

'No more Mutants'
'No more Mutants'

"No more Mutants"Charlemagne's vocal response was quick. His physical response however was surprisingly quicker. And before it had begun, it was over. Two dead bodies and a screaming housekeeper later, the LeBeau Legend had begun his march down the hotel hallway headed for the exit. The exit, and the demonstration.

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#9 Edited by Dandy (362 posts) - - Show Bio

Non-lethal cache, Affirmative

The perspective of a human can change as the mind is drenched in years of conflict. Such early innocent will become fat and tired, Forever changing as a boy turns into a man. Where morals that have forsaken such merciless weapons that the tin man wielded would be reversed. The man, the robots creator would disdain his early childhood beliefs, this world needs a new approach of justice. No matter what they believed there will always be a threshold that would be broken, there will always be beast inside that everyone has to release in order to reserve what they think is right.

And that effort was unleashed. Opening its kernel and allowing the killing machine to wander the outside world.

The beast sharpened its teeth as the barrel pointed upwards towards the sky. "Tear gas irritates the nose and eyes." The automated voice replied, its monitor screen expressed a smiley face. It obliged to add to the chaos. Locking its aim towards the windows of the palace grounds. The riot would blend the armed combatant amidst the cacophony. Embracing itself with the cause, the turbulence of destruction would motivate the actions of others, anchoring their endeavors together. Thus finally bringing the verdict of heavy weapons in play.

Queuing in the arsenal of Dandy.

“Vive la Revolution.” Dandy repeated before deploying its vehement tactics. It was a celebration, sending off the fireworks that would ignite the party. Trailing out of the smoking grenade launcher, four colorfully decorated canisters would besiege all over the palace. Crashing through the pathetic neatness of the french officials. Each grenade engraved with the words 'F-ck You - Dandy and Reynard' would be revealed before the Altisimo of pressure would spazz and unleash.

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

"War does not determine who is right- only who is left."- Bertrand Russell, Prominent British Philosopher

Le Marais neighborhood, Paris, France

Beneath the sun faded black arbor of a quaint traditional cafe, nestled in one of the many old-world style building lined streets for which Paris is so well known, a man crossed his legs, his posture relaxed yet retaining an air of professionalism as he reclined ever so slightly against the back of the wrought iron chair which supported him. Sipping from a gold leaf-rimmed coffee cup, savoring a fine dram of artisanal coffee brewed from a glass french press which sat on the table next to him atop a folded newspaper. Soft jazz played from a vintage radio on rustic shelf inside, audible enough to enjoy from his seat outside, enjoying the breeze and the view of beautiful women clutched handbags, browsing fashion outlets and admiring the local artists at work in the open. The smell of fresh bread and other baked goods was prevalent in the air from the pâtisserie next door, laced with the floral and amber notes of perfume from the passers-by made Hanzo delightfully at peace. He closed his sparkling chocolate eyes for the moment, taking his eyes of the cobblestones and climbing vines upon centuries old brick.

He reflected on the incident the night prior, a smile on his face as the breeze became a sudden gust of wind causing the aforementioned newspaper to flutter open, the french press barely enough to keep it from being carried away. One of the front page articles described in bold script in the lower corner "Massacre au Canal St-Martin, Trois Touristes Trouves Morts". The murders had of course been a contract that Hanzo had fulfilled; for what reason, he was unsure but what he certainly had been sure of was the six-figure payment that was sent to a black money bank in India and washed through various European laundering firms before the assassin had awoken this morning to a beautiful sunrise from behind ivory-hued curtains in his posh hotel.

However, such lucrative business was not his primary objective. That had been only a last minute operation in the grander scheme that had brought him from his home in Belgravia, London. Just as the tourists job had been, he was given a set of identical files, one electronic and the other in paper form. The former was for means of convenience while the latter had been for more of his love of nostalgia; it's how his father received them, it is from them how he learned the trade; that dance of death that is the elite assassination ring. While he retained his late father's profession and knack for the finer things that society had to offer, Hanzo's intelligence allowed him to grasp concepts that failed to factor into the previous Tenjin's otherwise one-dimensional barbaric outlook on life.

Tenjin's eyes opened and scanned for cameras and other monitoring devices and lifted his cell phone to eye level, outfitted with non-commercial security features his biometrics were read and he sorted through files via touchscreen until opening the file of interest. Limited amounts of intel were provided, however in the modern world very little is entirely a secret, even the most covert operations, all it takes if a little coercing, whether a briefcase full of money or a basement and rather crude torture devices. What was known was that a mutant resistance threatened the political interests of those who found the establishment and comfort they had provided themselves, despite building their mansions on the backs of the proletariats, to be jeopardized as it did only a few centuries before. A balance was about to be upset and the conformity which reigned this section of the Western World were about to be questioned and then otherwise revolted against. A revolution.

This resistance seemed to have a name, the Unified Mutant Underground. Underground, beneath...a fitting hunting ground for the Prince of Spiders.

Standing to his feet, planting handcrafted Italian loafers onto the cobblestone, and rising up, letting his trousers fall to ankle length and adjusted the fit of his navy blazer by rolling his bear-like shoulders forward. Adjusting his maroon cravat which plumed from his half opened alabaster oxford shirt. The Death Device placed the phone into his pocket, tossed a tip onto the table and began to stroll down the street, the soft jazz fading into the distance and soon all noise overtaken by the president's proclamation over sirens and the resultant rancorous audible objections in which it had incited.

No matter, he thought to himself, the perseverance of the self is the greatest concern, his survival was paramount, his well-being...his pleasure was to be maximized here in this one life and altruism was a facade. Hanzo, a psychological egoist in the vein of Rand, faced an internal crisis, after all, why would a Mutant commit to the destruction of his brethren and their call to arms? The beacon in the darkness that which was aiming to consume France entirely? Well, as alluded to previously the answer is deceptively simple:

Avarice.

______________________________

Tenjin's Hotel Room

Montmartre, Paris, France.

Murder. Death. Kill. Hanzo meditated on these words as he latched the final clasp on his breastplate, His narrow eyes fixated on the gilded baroque mirror which depicted him, those optics, wild and beast-like, glittering with the ferocity of a voracious wolf. Absent of all emotion. As if wrapped in shadows himself, the assassin doned the black armor of Katsuro Yamamoto; it still smelled like blood and gore compiled over years of martial combat, rancid and metallic. Yet, it needed alterations which had been provided, he was much larger than his father had been, a Herculean physique layered in carbon nanotubes and vibranium armor. Yet, its sleekness reflected its shinobi demeanor; his ninjutsu mastery would serve him well even in the possibility of open combat.

The Grim Ghost was unsure of who, or how many, placed the prices on the heads of various members of the United Mutant Underground, he was however very sure that for every target that was butchered, Hanzo would receive a million dollar payment. He was even given an advance, a taste of what wealth was to come for a night's work...even if it meant the death of hope for the oppressed.

The Cyber Striker, both mutant and machine, pulled a Glock G29 handgun from a thigh mounted holster and pulled the hammer back, checking to make sure the round was seated properly and then released and the gun was reholstered. Failing to prepare, was preparing to fail. He had overlooked every single item in his assortment of death dealing, down to polishing the brass of each bullet. Yet his body, due to his inhuman physical characteristics, needed no exercise or bracing for the commencement of wanton violence. Hanzo, once finished with the first phase of his mission then reached over his shoulder and tightened his grip on the hilt of one of his katana, strangling it, locking like a vice and as a flicker in the lights occurred, a brief moment of darkness: but in that moment skeletal hands composed of ink black nethermatter, moved obscurely and sprouted from all angles, in that instant when the light had returned and the nightmarish forms had no longer haunted this realm, Tenjin had vanished. For, he had hunting to do...

..Headhunting.

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#11 Posted by Lichter (5810 posts) - - Show Bio

@cognus_

Norway

The paragraph had been written in cursive, the scarlet ink indistinguishable from blood. Perhaps that was the intent, but none could say for sure. Gently, the journal was closed, gloved fingers pressing down on the front of the black-bound book. The young man turned, pouring a drink of wine for himself.

The soon-to-be riot will be the perfect opportunity to turn right what once went wrong. Let us capitalize on this chance to save Europe from another fascist, no?

The drained chalice was deposited on the table next to the book, the reflective helmet to its left retrieved. It clipped to the back of the man's neck with a hiss. He retrieved the weapon most peculiar, a small gray gun which seemed to glow at his touch. He'd had yet to truly come to terms with the power of the weapon he wielded, along with the history it boasted. Holstering it, he grabbed the knife, clicking the handle once. Pre-set coordinates whisked him away.

Paris - Église St. Augustine

No Caption Provided

Landing a shot on the President of France within his private residence would be an impossible task for anyone armed with a conventional weapon. This gun, however, was anything but normal. Experimentally, Cobalt drew the pistol, admiring once more the seemingly perfect balance. Drawing a shoulder stock from behind his back, he clipped it to the rear of the pistol, elongating the device substantially. A longer barrel followed, the Death Ray now capable of operating precisely at the long range between Église du St. Augustine and Quinn Mercier's house. The mob would be the perfect cover-up.

Good-bye, Mercier.

He pulled the trigger, not aiming at anywhere in particular save for Mercier's office. With any normal weapon, this would be a futile gesture, a simple ping ping of bullets harmlessly cascading on the outside of Mercier's house; yet, as mentioned before, this was no traditional firearm. The Ray roared to life, a collection of deadly blasts emanating from the tip amplified in range by the end barrel. "Cobalt" grit his teeth, the recoil unexpected. Eyes narrowing, he focused on maintaining the direction towards Mercier's room, the crimson lasers hopefully enough to tear through where he'd likely just delivered his speech and burn all inside.

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#12 Posted by N_ (19 posts) - - Show Bio

@cognus_: @lichter:

The Palace- Two minutes and seven seconds before Cobalt's attack.

The green-haired youth suddenly turned and blinked twice, eyebrows furrowed. He turned back to Mercier. "Sixty-five point two percent chance you die in the next two minutes. The nature of my power can't tell me how, but I can attempt to maximize your chances of survival, so if you would? Door." A portal opened behind Quinn, and he gestured to it. "The aforementioned Mister Crowley will ascertain the location of the offender and deal with him summarily."

On the Rooftop- Now.

Jack Crowley stepped from a door out behind Comrade Cobalt. His micro-omniscience power alerted him to every detail in the area, every mechanism in the Death Ray, every power in Cobalt's armor. His larger power he left for the moment, wanting to understand the details of the situation with his own skills. From some of the finer details, he had one clue already. "You're not who you say you are. I do recognize the homage, though. Kudos. Now, I'd advise you to step aside, and hand me the weapon. Handle first, if you please."

If Cobalt refused, he's use his power to find even the slightest imperfection in the design of the Ray, and capitalize on it with the greatest possible efficacy. The movement wouldn't register on even the most advanced HUD, and Cobalt would likely not even realize it had been destroyed until it fell apart in his grasp. In short, an attack that could not be stopped.

No Caption Provided

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#13 Posted by Lichter (5810 posts) - - Show Bio

@n_:

Instinct took over Cobalt's body as he heard words from behind, already pivoting as the hostile entity made himself known by speaking before acting. The Death Ray might have been adapted for long-range engagement, but it would still prove equally deadly in the short-range department. With one heel he pivoted, still holding down the trigger and directing the muzzle towards Crowley's position. The scarlet beam was minute enough to cut the stone behind the man in half, a laser spinning on the axis of his heel.

As he turned, he leaned backwards, falling intentionally over the railing. Engaging close-range would be disastrous.

Think, he reminded himself. Tactical.

With his free hand, he clutched at his belt, drawing a grappling hook from one of the compartments. Pushing on the switch with a thumb, he sought to launch the hook into the facade above, rappelling away from the teleporting target.

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#14 Posted by Jack_Crowley (15 posts) - - Show Bio

@lichter:

Crowley could have done a good many things. Pulled a shard of pure adamantium from his pocket and refracted it. Shifted position slightly so that it would just miss him. Done something to the fundamental laws of the universe so that the beam would pass through him, as all photons in the area would be, making him invisible and intangible for the briefest of moments. But his power suggested a wholly different tactic. "Door." And he was gone, the portal opening beneath him and spitting him out next to the Lichter Legacy, albeit in midair. A hand shot out and touched the wall, and he stopped falling. His powers had allowed him to find the firmest possible grasp and manipulate his body so that his strength was routed into an arm, a single hand, which curled slightly into the wall that he rested on, seeming for all the world like he was simply leaning on it in midair. "I did ask politely." He pushed sightly, and the wall shattered. Not small shards, but large chunks, that he pulled himself up from, leapt between, and eventually stood on them, just above the faux-Russian. In under an attosecond, he was there, analyzing, and decide don a course of action. He snapped an arm out, manipulating the very air into a razor-sharp, thin blade that would carve a small gash into the Architect's leg. He would repeat it three more times, in different places, before dropping to the ground as the wall-chunks burst into a fine powder, a result of the precise touches of his foot as he danced between them. "Is my point made?"

Elapsed time: one quintillionth of a second.

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#15 Posted by Lichter (5810 posts) - - Show Bio

@jack_crowley:

The ray beam passed through empty space, dramatically defacing the chapel's side as he swung over the side. The line wavered, his mysterious foe reappearing.

Invisibility? he wondered, trying to train the powerful weapon's sights on his target's position. Instead, the enemy effortlessly leaned upon the structure, somehow possessing an innate control of his position unmatched by any opponent Cobalt had yet to face. He couldn't hear the banter over the roar of the crumbling debris, but he saw the man's lips move.

A talker, then. Simple thoughts in the midst of mortal combat.

The invisible strings of hyper-propelled air rippled against him, cutting into the armored plates on his leg. They broke cloth, drawing blood. He winced, cursing in his head. His landing on the side of the building was interrupted, causing his foot to slip; he spun in place, wrapping a muscled, armored arm around the wire to expertly regain his balance. He couldn't keep track of the bouncing foe, angry eyes darting back and forth behind the helmet in an attempt to lock him down. When they fixed once more on the jumping martial-artist, they burned.

The Blue-Clad Blaster pushed off from the wall, swinging towards Crowley in the blink of an eye. As he approached, he drew a wicked knife from a holster on his chest, grasping it upside-down. The maneuver was conducive to a downwards stab, and that was his intent - the moment he was in range, he'd attempt to plunge the knife into Crowley's jugular vein. Simultaneously, he'd raise the gun, aiming for the foe's ribs. Immediately, he'd fire.

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#16 Posted by Jack_Crowley (15 posts) - - Show Bio

@lichter:

The Cerulean Commander moved with astonishing speed, for a human. Crowley allowed himself a fraction of a second to consider before reacting.

The Theorist folded his cloak around a hand and grasped the knife lade as i arced towards his throat, attempting to twist it out of the way. An effortless move, considering. He didn't even bother to leverage his power, relying on the physical strength his time with, and versus the Company had afforded him. The second attack was more problematic, but he could work against that. While the knife was in his grasp, he tried to twist the arm to break it, preventing Cobalt from shooting him due to the pain. The break would't be clean, either. He would snap it in a manner that would send shards throughout the arm, maximizing his chances of not being seared with a high-intensity laser.

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#17 Edited by XRiskyX (12700 posts) - - Show Bio

“You think this will be over soon?”

“Of course! The president will soon take care of this and everything will go back to normal. Trust me.”

The evening was calm, comfortable even. The sirens had finally gone silent and all the messages had been delivered. All that remained was the soft whisper of the late breeze that was so soothingly cool to body and soul. Whoever was not in the raging streets to become part of the sea of protest huddled in the quiet pond of his home that cast serene isles of electrical light into the chaotic darkness.

The two soldiers would have rather preferred to be somewhere else than here. Not like they would have liked to join so many of their comrades on their way to protect the power plants. The image how concerned young man had jumped into troop transports on the path to almost certain bloodshed was burned into their minds. How many of them would not return? Crushed to death by super strength? Burned to nothing but cinders by heat rays? Dissolved by acid? Or maybe even hit by an even more cruel fate? The two did not want to know and did not want to switch places.

But here, guarding this depot in the mid of November in Paris was not their number one pick either. Slowly the cold crept into their clothes and made them shudder, try to hide in their parkas and hold their rifles a bit lower. Their broad shoulders sank, their boots stomped from time to time to keep them warm. The weather claimed its tribute. Among resting tanks and heavy artillery the two nearly disappeared in front of the massive hangar doors. Why could they not be at home in their comfortable armchair with a beer in their hands?

“Hey Grégoire? What’s the difference between France and Syria?”

He snickered at his own joke. Only silence answered though.

“Grégoire?”

An icy wind swept through the vehicle fleet. It was no good omen. As if to emphasize it, Grégoire collapsed.

He would never finish that sentence. Moments before lips could form the last movements to finish his curse a neat, clearly defined hole materialized on his forehead. A single drop of blood, like a crimson tear, ran down his face in indescribable sadness. His face would be forever frozen in the same moment of surprise.

A slender figure sneaked past the two corpses as if they were not there, not the work of her uncanny marksmanship. Like a ghost she moved through the unrealistic, absurd scene. In front of her a wonderland of destruction opened . A deadly amusement park of gunpowder, explosives and combustible materials. Dilatory the slim shard of light as she opened the gate revealed chance after chance of entertainment, each a multitude of death to her enemies. The charges in her satchel suddenly felt worth more than their actual potential. An empire of mesmerizing destruction. Slowly her true potential was revealed to her, a legacy of bedlam. The whole ammunition reserves of the French government. After this the troopes would be limited to what they carried on their very bodies. Deliberately she raised the communicator to her mouth. Their ruse had worked.

While almost every soldier was protecting the infrastructure of the country so that the French citizens could watch TV in peace she and her partner had went for the very life vein of the military. Her short tele medial confirmation was nothing more than a confirmation for it as her shadow lay itself over rows and rows of ammunition boxes.

“Zealot to Scion: Mission accomplished. Starve the Philistines can begin.”

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#18 Posted by Lichter (5810 posts) - - Show Bio

@jack_crowley:

The effortless catch of the knife took Cobalt by surprise, as did the brutal attack on his arm. The warrior grunted in pain, the twist enough to break an ordinary human's limb effortlessly. Were it not for the blue armor locking the fighter's arm in place before the break could complete, he'd be all but indisposed. Regardless, the attack was enough to throw his aim off-center once more, this time directing the laser down into the streets. It tore up the pavement, searing a parked car in half. He grunted.

Twisting in mid-air as they descended, he dropped the knife, using his above-average strength in an attempt to overcome the hold. Were he successful, he'd try to place his gloved hand on Crowley's face, rotating his wrist in an attempt to decisively snap the man's neck.

He doesn't pay me enough for this, he thought, bringing up the Ray as he attempted the grapple.

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#19 Edited by Cognus_ (258 posts) - - Show Bio

“It’s not that they’re pretending to have power, it’s now they finally realize that they have more than they thought, @vael.”

Quinn said bitterly as he sipped on his pitch black coffee, the harsh flavor mimicking his demeanor. He displayed a sentiment of frustration and dissatisfaction, but in reality he was tranquil and contemplating. The enemy at his gates had overextended the pawns, hoping to distract the President elect and his allies. Clearly, their were more than a single pair of hands manipulating the strings of the mob. The group of cowards meant nothing to him, simply cannon fodder that refused to bow their heads to his will. Soon, they will come to a crossroads. They will either yield, or be neutralized. Quinn, however refused to make a martyr of a fool, and had other means at his disposal.

“Sir, we have received word that the power and water supply have been shutoff through unknown means @xriskyx .”

A security guard intruded without warning with a panicked expression painted on his face. Sweat dribbled at his collar and his hands slightly shared. Once again, Quinn was unfazed and simply nodded while waving a hand of dismissal. The self proclaimed ‘Mutant Underground’ think themselves disciples of Sun Tzu, but fail to realize The Silver Cynic’s lineage could be traced to Alexander The Great, War Monger Prime of his era. The set back was merely that and nothing more to the ascending monarch.

@n_

“...65.2% chance you die….”

Quinn broke from his pondering and planning, and turned to his designated Knight. Raising an eyebrow, his gaze turned to a suitcase placed beside himself and his desk, it’s contents containing the true identity of himself that was known to absolutely no one.

“I’ve beaten more intimidating odds.”

He gave a strong nod while grasping the suitcase, placing his full trust to the emerald enigma.

“See you on the other side, believe me when I say that we'll return to your offer in the very near future and in more secure terms. Oh, and Cognus is aware of the events transpiring, he’ll be on the ground level likely meeting up with the Bishops @charlemagne@tenjin an-….”

The details of his response were interrupted by a haze of fog as shattering glass echoed in the grand halls of the palace. With a hiss, the fumes escaped punctures in the canisters and filled the air, causing the armed guards to cough and wheeze while tears rolled down their cheeks. Instinctually, they reach onto their thighs and retrieve their M65 protective masks, still struggling with the vapor however, they manage to succeed.

It brought a sense of reassurance to the French Gentlemen's confidence, but it was soon snuffed out. As a wave of calmness washed over the group of the office, heads began to become cleaved off and roll onto the floor in an alarming closeness to Quinn that caused him to freeze in shock. Had he not side stepped to avoid the noxious gas, his entire torso would have been seared in half, bringing his life's work to a screeching halt.

“Well, until then!”

He stiffened his body like plank and fell backwards into the mesmerizing portal, his figure and briefcase dissipating into the abyss. Upon exiting the other side of limbo, he was a completely different man. Instead of his obsidian suit pinned with the Franch Flag upon it’s lapel and slick backed hair draped over his ears, he was now completely clothed in ivory kevlar and hood, enwrapped with a matching trench cloak. Black streaks ran along the seams and dual pistols had replaced the baggage he had carried. Quinn Mercier had been secured in a ‘unknown bunker’ somewhere lost in the country. Only Cognus was here, with guns ablaze and with one goal on his mind. To become the pestilence of mutant kind. As much as he wanted to exterminate the rats that were attempting to infiltrate his home, he disgruntingly equipped the deadly bullets with tranquilizer rounds potent enough to incapacitate a fully grown adult rhino. @dandy@lichter@_reynard_

No Caption Provided

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#20 Posted by N_ (19 posts) - - Show Bio

@lichter: @cognus_:

The two emerged on a moving lift, and as they descended, they got a view of the complex, if quick. It was a sprawling area, with testing chambers, desks, and various doors in one open area, though it was clearly not all of the complex. The Precognitive stepped off of the lift first and nodded at his associate.

"Thank you for your trust, Mister Mercier. If you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. My more business-inclined associate will attend to matters.

Another woman, wearing a doctor's coat, walked out from behind a wall, taking the clipboard and briefcase from her green-haired associate. "If you are prepared to accept our offer, there are a few forms for you to sign. If you'd step this way, we can talk at my desk. Rest assured, you'll be returned to the battlefield as soon as we're finished. She didn't blink at his costume, or weapons. "We'll require a modest payment, to keep our metaphorical doors open, but you'll be able to cover it easily. The only possible prohibitive cost would be that we would require three... favors, as payment. If that is amenable, you can have a means to eliminate all of France's mutants. If you take a look at forms seventeen through thirty-two you'll see our policy for 'repossessing' should you not pay us, which we often tailor to the individual, but from a man of your stature and honor, we sincerely expect not to have to use them."

Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Crowley paused, letting the man twist his neck. He pulled his face away before lethal damage could be done, and held up a hand. "I'll pay triple," he said mildly.

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#21 Posted by Lichter (5810 posts) - - Show Bio

@n_:

Stop talking, thought the man, drawing back his helmeted head. Intently twisting his grip in an attempt to grasp the back of the man's head, he drew back his own, lunging forward with a devastating headbutt. The reflective helmet adorning his bald skull would hopefully be enough to injure the apparently unflappable enemy he now faced. Clearly a metahuman, he was beginning to have his doubts about the mission - his only method of evacuation would be on foot.

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#22 Edited by Vael (296 posts) - - Show Bio

@lichter@cognus_@n_@charlemagne@_reynard_

Vael leaped through the door to the room the moment the beam of energy cut through it like a laser beam through melted butter. She hit the floor and rolled, quickly springing to her feet in the hallway. Moments later as gas began to seep out of the room she took off running down the hall and soon spotted what she was looking for, one of the many balconies overlooking the front of the palace grounds, or in this case, the riot. Once she arrived she threw open the doors and strode out onto the balcony, anger at having been included in an attack by the peasant class simmering in her eyes. The Void Terror removed the bo-staff from her back and smiled slowly.

Time for the unwashed masses to take a bath."Veth!" She called out the word of power, channeling the aquatic manna that coursed through the veins of Paris and channeling through her body like a lighting rod. The spell did the rest, massive clouds gathered above the city within moments and just as had happened in Gothic, rain came pouring down by the bucket full.

Image result for monsoon gif

The rain poured down like rivers from the sky, it washed over the city of Paris as a titanic flood the likes of which the Earth rarely saw. In moments the water in the streets would be inches deep and there was no sign of it letting up, the rain would keep coming, it would come as inevitably as the turning of the world and it wouldn't stop until Vael told it to. You want to shut off the water, then I'll give it to them by the gallon. You want to protest outside the gates of the palace? Then I'll wash you out to sea. It was only the beginning, the torrential rain was only ever step one in Vael's multi-part assaults and in truth, it wasn't there to flood out the fighting, no, it was there to act as a catalyst for future spells, to grant her added abilities with which to fight.

With the casting of a spell a transformation over took Vael. Her dress vanished beneath a wave of energy, replaced by her combat outfit and her typically soft eyes sharpened and burned as golden embers. The Void Terror jumped over the railing of the balcony and landed neatly on the ground below, placing one hand on the dirt as she landed in a crouch, one hand out behind her with the bo-staff clutched tightly in her fingers. As she stood, she headed straight for the gates. He seems to want to resolve this without fatalities, so be it...for now. Once she arrived at the gate she climbed the wall and jumped down into the riot below. She spun and maneuvered through the crowd, her bo-staff lashing out with furious intent, smashing into faces, driving the wind from lungs and leaving behind a trail of half-conscious civilians who's bodies would heal but would be out of the fight, at least for now.

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#23 Posted by Zafir_Karim (492 posts) - - Show Bio

I can't fire on them. Any physical attack I can think of right now against Mercier is ruined. Z thought watching the disastor remotely, However this shall be an excellent topic for later with this much damage to people as well as property. Could be useful

The android Z had sent had to get away from the fight. It was an excellent machine but it wasn't indestructible, certainly wasn't meant to be flooded with gallons of water. It didn't manage to escape and got short circuited. Fortunately nothing about it would lead to him and it would cause no problems for him later. And with all the water any possible evidence about his actions that could be connected to him was washed away. The scarred man was around but he would take no part in this.

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#24 Edited by Dandy (362 posts) - - Show Bio

@vael:

Forged metal would be laid upon storefronts, bashing through cracked windows and brittle walls. They damned the streets in inferno, spoiling the materials of trash and cars into the air. Everywhere the artistry of fury was being displayed by humans and mutant alike. The pitched tone of warcry’s influenced each other’s actions, boiling their blood in harmony to rush as a swarm. The A.I was witnessing immense satisfaction and animosity all at once, it was hard to absorb the content into its programmed purpose. Blending in their emotions. It carefully observed the happiness towards violence and began to apply their ways of enjoyment into its programming.

Yet, none of their elements were intended to be lethal, not until now-

(@lichter)- A bright lighting strike fell upon the French officials, seemingly coming out of nowhere. The sudden blaze would agro against the gods as if it declared war. Screams and cries would emanate from the lethal attack, adding the flaming torch to the fire it was a signal to unleash the rage. Casting out their front lines against the protesters. Furiously dashing the setting with the splatter of pity. Drowning the city in a storm that signaled the arrival of battle.

The front of the horde were swept in the blinding madness of the storms assault. Scanning through the chaos of quick versatile movements. The automaton only detected tranquilizers (@cognus_) and fractured skulls. The tide was coming closer towards the robot. Watching and scanning the staffs movements and combat style. Its strength and speed, to its material and weight. The examination was done rather quick, What Dandy had over the human mind was a computers processing power. Determining to stand by and meet the persecutors face to face.

Her blunted staff would meet the unsatisfied face monitor of the 700 pound titan. The force against its superior armor would only nudge the neck point to a small degree. Sending vibrations across its shell that slashed the showering water outwards from the point of contact. The happy face that the monitor had expressed before instantly turned into a cheeky face with its tongue out, Mocking the attack. ‘:p’

At the moment of collision, the terminator had auto-locked its attention towards the staff wielder as a single target. The enemies tactics presented non-lethal intentions preventing the killing machine to advance its own, but that wouldn’t prevent it from sadistically hurting them. Quickly using its spare left hand to snap back at the weaponry located at its backside. Like a cowboy gunslinger unholstering its gun for immediate retaliation, Dandy had Unsheathed the mighty shotgun it had at point blank range. The holy barrel would present its mystic light towards the demon that supported the French Officials. None Shall Pass. “I bought you a present” Pulling the trigger 3 times in quick succession, Flashing the buttery gold of rubber slugs that glittered in the rain. The shotguns roar coughed out a barrage onto her position, locking-on its aim towards her abdomen.

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

@dandy:

Vael felt the vibration of impact rock through the cold-vibranium of her bow-staff and quickly spun the weapon away from the robot, leveling someone who was intending to sneak up behind her with a crushing blow to the face that smashed their nose and sent them to the ground in an unconscious heap. I could probably hit it's weak points, everything that moves has them, but I think a better plan is needed here. Time to even the playing field perhaps, or send it away from here. Quick as thought it pulled a shotgun but the action of doing so was just slow enough that Vael was able to anticipate his next course of action. The word of power was already leaving her lips when he pulled the trigger for the first time.

"Set!" Vael vanished in a flicker, though when she re-appeared on a building rooftop to his left she stumbled and fell, the first blast had struck her just as she was teleporting away and sent rivers of pain exploding through her abdomen. Fortunately...Vael had felt worse. Despite the pain and what she knew would be serious bruising later, she forced herself to her feet and picked up where she had intended to leave off. The water, it was always about the water. Making it rain allowed Vael to use any number of other powers that could turn a whole city into a favorable battlefield.

"Ohs-ekt!" Her body channeled manna and power flowed like the water from the sky. The result of her spell was first noticable by a sudden deep rumbling that shook the ground and then by the sudden and violent appearance of a sixty foot tall wall of water rushing through the street straight for her robotic foe. The water moved at forty miles per hour and if it struck its target, it would do so with one hundred tons of force as it would come crashing down on the robotic figure and seek to slam him into the ground with the wrathful power of nature's aquatic side.

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#26 Posted by _Reynard_ (3203 posts) - - Show Bio

@_vex_@vael

Atticus heard the distinct dart guns go off in a crowd of pissed off mutants, from the cornerstone across the block. He had been drinking everything inside the store for the past five minutes, as if he was going to die of thirst if he didn’t drink enough wine to put an army to sleep.

Silence.

Frozen growls and fists being thrown, waiting to impact body parts.

They were hitting the cops with everything they had.

Signs, rocks, glass shards, gouda.

The scenery looked like someone had just paused the movie adaptation of this riot. He looked at the face of the mutants being fired upon and saw that they weren’t flinching at all. A truly inspiring feat of bravery. Atticus collected the darts as they floated ever still and crushed them with the palm of his hand, leaving them on the ground while he looked at the dark skies.

Storms have rules just like everything else. It doesn’t matter if it’s weather manipulation or magic. If you have one third of a brain and you happened to luck the out in the superpower department, you can pretty much get the same results as any god of thunder with L'Oréal hair.

I created my first storm over the Caribbean, since it’s like riding with kiddy wheels when you’re trying to make it rain over there.

During the Cumulus stage, the warm surface air carrying the water travels thousands of feet up. The rising updraft will begin to cool and condense as it rises. Eventually the raindrops start to become large enough to splatter across the ground in the second phase.

The drops get so large that the updraft can no longer keep lifting them upwards so they begin to fall. To counter the updraft, the downdraft is the cool air and rain falling from the clouds. When the downdraft hits the ground, it spreads in all directions, generating intense winds. All this takes place in the Mature Stage, which is the same stage of the storm trying to drown Paris.

Storms can go on as long as they please just as long the updraft keeps feeding it warm air. The downdraft is what kills the storm eventually, it cuts off the supply of hot air by overpowering it in the span of thirty minutes to an hour.

The protesters don’t have that much time.

So this is where I come in.

Atticus flew into the black clouds, the rain poured out by the tons. He felt as drops snuck in his cowl, wetting his blonde locks. He extended his arms like the classic superheroes he watched when he was younger as they went into action. Atticus started flying downward around the clouds, accelerating the downdraft’s process to slit the storm’s throat. Though to the human eye it seemed as if the cloud was smothering itself. A gust of cold air would spread through Paris, dropping the temperatures almost instantly. The only remainders of the old storm would be little drops of rain joining the puddles and grayish clouds.

No Caption Provided

The ground cracked as the lightspeed blur returned in between the crowds and the “Pestilence of Mutants”. Atticus smiled at Cognus, but it wasn’t meant to comfort him, he wanted to let the people around him who know who he was that everything was going to be alright.

He slightly flicked his index finger towards the Pistoled Wrath’s shoulder. The blunt damage that hitting him in the head or chest with that amount of force would hypothetically kill him. Atticus didn’t want to do that, so he missed direct impact with all major organs purposefully. It would be more than enough to send him torpedoing towards the wall and cause some punctured lungs, cracked ribs and broken arms. Just to make sure that he doesn’t valiantly stand up again, and attempt to prove that humanity’s will is stronger than the punishment he could lash out or whatever was more dramatic.

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

@cassius_knightfall: @xriskyx:

A frigid and foreboding wind howled and bellowed from the horizon, catching the French flags atop the armory in its grasp and sending the banners into a frenzy. Behind such a flag, on the far eastern corner of the building, that familiar ebon clad assassin lurked, half hidden by the waving motions of blue, white and red. From his perch, like a bird of prey, Hanzo crouched low as possible to the brick beneath him, pressing vibranium encased fingers, spread wide, down to support his already uncanny balance. From behind his mask, he watched intently as Risky gazed upon the vast weaponry and explosive potential of the building. Hanzo's cybernetic eyes switched from the standard vision that a human possesses to the image intensification, gathering in more photons from ambient sources while seeing the world through a green filter for the purposes of sensitivity. This real-time adjustable night-vision was coupled with administering telescopic effects, allowing him to magnify his target several times, allowing him to observe all the while relaying a snapshot taken from his eye to a station somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

The station responded with a few seconds, a representative of Cyberware Corporation spoke into Tenjin's ear via a transmitter implant. "Target confirmation successful. That's her."

The Virtuoso of Violence gazed up for a moment, his telescopic vision aimed deep into the clouds only to see, through an opening in the nimbus, a surveillance drone circling above. All along Hanzo had employed its services for scanning the city for the signatures of his targets based on recordings, pictures, and other surveillance units compilations and utilizing advanced behavioral characteristics software to identify potential matches. He had been informed of Risky's location only seconds ago and wielded his stygian teleportation ability to appear at his current locale.

Hanzo lifted one hand from the ground and pressed his index finger against his ear region, covered by his shinobi mask. "Affirmative ol' boy, do us a favor and send the probable coordinates of Cassius when you get them...I wouldn't want the man to miss out on the soirée." His manner of speaking was posh, indicative of his privileged upbringing, further honed in the haughty dinner parties of London's elite.

Tenjin motioned his hand back down, still adopting the simian-like posture before lifting himself to his feet using his massive legs. His mind rolled through several scenarios, formulating a battle plan that would give him an advantage at the onset of the confrontation. He processed the wind speed using more cybernetic assistance, allow with velocity rates of moving objects, amplified minute sounds and nullified ones that could pose distracting along with various battlefield geometrics such as distances, elevation, and angles of the terrain from point to point. This data filled grid like construct projected in his mind allowed him to habituate his surroundings in greatest detail.

From his vantage point, the Pinnacle Predator rushed forth along the edge of the building, his vibranium soles falling absolutely silently as his inhuman speed carried him forth with deadly intent. His soundless pace was soon evolving into a display of acrobatics: as he leaped off the side, his right foot met with the wall and released a pneumatic explosion from liquid-oxygen pistons in his leg. This explosion caused him to jet downward at blinding acceleration, while contorted his body into a series of rotations, his legs shooting backward causing a trinity of backflips, giving him the appearance of a falcon in an uncontrolled descent. However, the ninja meant only to utilize the centrifugal force it generated for a purpose. During the final rotation, Tenjin placed his hand on the hilt of one of his katana mounted in an 'X' pattern upon his back, in fraction of a second, the Blood Painter unsheathed the sword and utilizing the friction the scabbard placed upon its blade to propel the sword even faster, aiding his enhanced muscles to perform a diagonal slash that seemed like a silver thunderbolt. He aimed to sever her torso at a steep angle, aiming first at the shoulder and down through the opposite thigh.

Even before the blade was released, Tenjin made slight adjustments to the placement of his limbs so that just as the sword was swung he had recovered his equilibrium in mid-air. Landing perfectly on his feet, legs spread in a forty-five-degree angle and situated into a combat position as the katana was rotated up and over his shoulder, resheathing it in a single fluid motion. Further, he hoped the acrobatic display would disguise the fact he had released a flurry of exploding ninja stars, which utilized a photon absorbing film to seem like shadows, before his aforementioned sword strike. This flurry had been designed to launch several of these projectiles in six directions, understanding that they had the explosive potential of a standard issue grenade, he designed the blasts to assume a hexagonal pattern and to explode in near unison, about four meters away from his singularity. This was meant to attempt to either catch Risky in one of the bursts during a short range teleportation but primarily to cause major hearing damage and disorientation if within range which Tenjin would avoid via sound nullification. Just as the explosions went off, his right hand whipped downward, unleashing a smoke bomb from his vambrace which detonated and released a large plume of white phosphorus smoke meant to promote his potential for evasive action.

As the smoke bomb engaged Hanzo would teleport, if his target survived both incidents, allowing wicked nethermatter hands to pull him into a black portal instantly, only to emerge on Risky's left side five paces behind the shoulder in hopes of capitalizing on a blind spot. Just as he appeared, his right leg outstretched and was fired through the air in a roundhouse kick at her nearest leg's peroneal nerve attempting to use his dark ninjutsu arts to cause the pressure point to detonate as if struck by a large caliber bullet along with the effects of his great strength to shatter bone. As if his initial onslaught was not enough, the kick was immediately coupled with activating the napalm emitters on his shin, causing a streak of adhesive flames to be spread in a wide sweeping arc at his opponent as he spun his striking leg swiftly upwards and then in a downward descent before make an east to west pass before planting foot onto the earth below him.

What the Ethereal Assassin had been quite aware of was her unique traits such as incredible luck and pension for pyrotechnics would make this assassination attempt extraordinarily difficult given also to the whereabouts and the conditions of the battle at hand. However, matters were pressing, time was short and a rendezvous with her allies could also be likely. However, isolating a tiger in its favorable environment was also a very unwise decision, something Hanzo would quite possibly pay dearly for, no matter his martial mastery.

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#28 Posted by Cassius_Knightfall (12600 posts) - - Show Bio

@xriskyx@tenjin

"Scion confirming, Operation go." A touch of his wireless communicator quickly switching channels "Commence systematic warfare protocol. Cyber division begin the aggressive redistribution of funds. When they notice the nation bank has been hit it will be too late. Scion out" Nodding to his squad the collective pulled their headsets free and crushed them underfoot. No tracing the signal now.

"We go in hard and fast, any resistance delete from the equation. In and out no more than fifteen minutes. Set watches on my mark. Mark."

Moving like water, each member its own ripple in the current, exact, simultaneous and indifferent from the next as they drew weapons and moved in packs of three. Walking under a sign flanked by French flags. LaEréserve Opérationnell

Raising his hand rapidly to signal the stop. Cassius pointed for the squad to pause their watches as he reached for the last line of communication rumbling in his fatigues. A message.

"Freelance assets are in the field. Be aware of headhunters.... Viva."

Thumbs up.

Group formed their fire parties and started their watches once again. Holding for a few seconds then collectively launching flash grenades into the building. Bright phosphorus flares erupting like new born suns as the sound of gunfire began. The repetitive clang of spent shells on marble floor piercing the deep echo of the barking firearms. The room falling silent as the teams split and pressed on with its sweep and clear. Leaving only a wake of gore and spent metal.

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

@_reynard_: @dandy

Vael stood watching her wave when the rain stopped suddenly. It had no impact on the wave, the wave was entirely separate spell that could just as easily have been summoned from dry land. She glanced up at the sky for a moment and tilted her head a little in curiosity. There she spotted someone flying from the dispersing clouds and then returned her gaze to her current foe. I was wondering how long it would take for one of those to show up. Though she came from a world that was quite frankly primitive compared to this one Vael was a highly intelligent individual and had spent days educating herself when she first arrived and continued to educate herself daily. She knew about high level mutants, the so called supermen. Not my problem yet.

The end of the rain was a bigger problem. She'd set up the rain storm for future spells, like the ability to manipulate water molecules. Without the rain, there's still plenty of water around to use, but that rain would have allowed me to use the rain like bullets. Unfortunate...It's also unfortunate that it's no longer likely to send the rioters packing. Need a plan b for that later.

She considered restarting the storm, but magic wasn't free and there would be more use for that mana elsewhere now. With some of her tactical flexibility neutralized and her plan for sweeping the rioters out of the streets put on ice, Vael renewed her focus on the combat at hand and tapped into the mana flowing around her body, preparing her next spell.

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#30 Posted by Dandy (362 posts) - - Show Bio

@vael:

No Caption Provided

Heavy rain kept pouring, beating down aggressively against the armored face plate. The storm was blurring out the automatic knights visual sensors. Disrupting scanning procedures and instant simulations, but the move was so simple. A checkmate ready to execute against what the opponent had displayed.

Freeing the shotguns damage, roaming towards the predicted end, the rubber shells would travel on further than expected.

Beyond the machines control, the moving projectiles had passed through the designated position. With almost a 95.2% chance of success, calculating the robots snapping speed, range and accuracy, The tin man somehow missed its target bringing multiple errors across the board.

Target lost.

. . .Tracking possibilities.

Teleportation.

Taking a second look at the environment it would predict Weather Manipulation, branching down to elemental manipulation.

There was one thing that the demonstrated power that she displayed did not reveal. Underestimating her abilities, it did not account the properties of magic in her arsenal. Before her disappearance it had categorized her as a skilled melee combatant. Now the threat level had increased substantially. Allowing the machine to grant itself lethal maneuvers. With tactical speed it had switched its weaponry to live rounds and its purpose for destructive purpose.

Lethal-Cache: Activated

Right and left the target was no longer in sight. Buildings unclear due to intense weather but the search was interrupted. Sounds of rushing water that resembled the explosive thunder of the ocean had filled its view. Suffocating the streets in its brutal rock crushing force. Banging against the road in its musical domination as if it were the drums of war. The cacophony of the elevated tide would trigger the robots defense. The element was too fast and had too much height to boost over, so its only resort was to anchor itself onto the road.

With one great swing its right arm would penetrate the road as if it were paper.

Nailing its body in place as the weight of summoned water passed through. Shredding its pressure against the robots exterior. Ripping off most of its arsenal as if it were sucked into a black hole. Then the weight of the assault increased as its climax had crushed and dented its larger weaponry that were made of less durable metals unlike the awaiting automaton that patiently waited for the assault to end.

Standing up, such attempts would only slow down the terminators progress and never completely stop it. The automatons design was built to be a tank among all other programs so that it will never be stopped until it is the only one left standing.

The skies has cleared.

The building tops were able to be seen where its target has been detected standing along one of their edges.

Dandy began to walk towards the position for a better angle, but through her magic properties she had slowed it down again. Instantly freezing the water where it was leg deep in.

Quickly retaliating the machine pulled out one of its remaining weapons that survived the flood. Firing an entire submachine gun clip towards her.

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#31 Edited by Cognus_ (258 posts) - - Show Bio

@_reynard_:

The self titled ‘objectors’ and ‘revolters’ were nothing but agitators and traitors, nothing more. His bound from the teleportation gateway made a grand entrance for the battle scene as his trench coat draped beneath him, his dual pistols fired in rapid succession, letting out a low and muffled puffing noise as the tranquilizers exited the lubricated barrel. The muzzle flash was practically non existent despite being casted over by the shadows of the clouds and the rainstorm falling from above. A perfect climate for his debut.

“Un peu trop ambitieux, n’est-ce pas?"

The Alabaster Spectre seethed from his gritting test underneath the hood. He was resentful of his people for rejecting the plans that he had projected for the country of course, but he was saddened more than anything. Like unruly children that had been told that they needed to eat their vegetables before they can taste their desert. So they must prepare for a few amendments to their rights for the sake of peace and security. A time-out was called for.

With each round landing and penetrating through the clothing of their objectives and slugging into flesh, a visible crimson feather tail protruded from the rear of the projectiles so that all could see that there was no true harm intended. However, Cognus felt no remorse for each mutant that dropped, nor for a human that had decided to align themselves upon the wrong side. The traitorous side.

“Traîtres! Indigne à vos concitoyens!”

His words spewed like spiked venom, his fingers moving in a blinding rhythm, pulling within the trigger weld and reloading the magazine, letting the expended rounds cradle to the floor. He was lost in a blind shootout without any true opposition. It felt almost unjustifiable. Almost. Just as he felt the tide of the scuffle was turning in his favor though, Quinn’s mind strayed as a single sound of earth cracking in the distance broke him of his concentration. It was unexpectedly captivating and even hypnotizing. Time froze to a single frame of chronological juncture.

No Caption Provided

Shit.

He couldn’t move a single fiber of his skeletal or muscular system, almost as if his nerves were sending signals but their was no receptor to perceive and interpret the response. Only his oculomotor nerve seemed to still be functioning under the command of his exceedingly augmented brain. A hue of violet crossed his vision, the glimpse of a grinning fool stood before him as a fist was cocked back in presumptuous certainty. It felt like he paused, savoring the moment that he could declare to the world, ‘It is I. The man that struck the Phantom Spectre and lived to regale to the world.’

You will have this, Coercer, and only this.

Feeling as powerless and impotent as ever, he stared back into the face of his aggressor, trying dauntlessly to harden the fibers and molecular cells of his body to defy the stroke, but it was to little avail as Cognus could not adequately match his speed. With a boisterous bashing noise and brazen movement, the President’s Weapon went tumbling rearward and shattering through the outer wall of his palace. The tan bricks of Monarchs past collapsed upon the successor and latest of the lineage. The entirety of his torso burned with a violent response. His brain was sending emergency SOS alerts to his body, desperately holding on to consciousness.

The Ivory Assassin grunted loudly and his chest tightened, coughing up more than a substantial amount of blood. He could breath, but the feeling of drowning was overwhelming. His left lung was clearly punctured and his 3rd rib was broken. Dazed, but still coherent, Cognus reached upon his waist and retrieved a 3 inch long needle within a 14gauge catheter. He gazed upon it’s plastic coating, proud that at least his gadgets were properly prepared. He let out a small cry as he drove the pointed prod between his 4th and 5th intercostal space, the secondary ideal placement for a chest decompression and first line intervention to address a soon to be collapsed lung.

Motherfucker….Pregnant women deal with worse.

He reflected back to himself, regarding the broken rib. It was enough to keep him mindful of the fight, but most certainly not out of it. Stumbling to his feet, his strength was coming back to him as well as his ability to inhale and exhale. The basic of human efforts. He cracked his knuckles and bent down, reclaiming his cutlass pistols. He could feel the blood swishing within his respiratory system and reluctantly coughed up once more to relieve the influx. Refusing to remove his shawl, he let it soak his chin and down his torso.

“Is that all you got?”

He only whispered before his voice began to raise in volume.

“You tread through my country and into my home while attempting to coerce me into battle?!”

His voice was thundering through the skirmish and growing more and more.

“I will not fall into the mud of your tactics. I refuse to kill you or those that you have recruited from my people!”

The lies were practically falling from his tongue. Of course he wanted nothing more than to kill this man. Of course he would execute the ones that had decided to join the herd, mutants and humans alike….But most of all….Of course Quinn wanted to see the demise of mutant kind. This was a goal that he would see through to the end.

Comfortable that he was at a strong enough level of recovery to hold his own, he drew the pistols once more. Firing faster than he did before while vaulting in a backwards leap, landing upon the still standing portion of his cement wall. Sprinting alongside it’s fenced edges and aiming towards the over-egotistical face that was so eager to prove his sympathy to mutants. This battle was far from over and the reversals he kept in his attire were far from empty. He turned his palm into this waistband and fetched a coral colored canister that matched the size of a large vitamin pill.

Tossing it with his left hand into the air, it became a flying target for Cognus, and so it was. He fired upon it, allowing the identical hued gas to mist over the now rainless atmosphere and upon the mob. A still unknown designed nerve agent had now dispersed, intending to block the enzyme acetylcholinesterase. If successful it would cause excess salivation, involuntary urination, deification, and restricting the functions of the lungs to the bare minimum required for survival. Death wasn’t the intention nor possible, but if fortunate, the victims would cry for it.

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

@dandy:

The problem with moving a weapon into position to fire is that it was always something of a telegraph. With only precious time to respond to the moving of the weapon into firing position Vael made a split second choice, rather than teleport again she tapped into yet another magical ability. "Eth!" In an instant she was gifted the ability to see fragments of the immediate future, a gift most useful for deflecting attacks, including bullets.

The display that followed was as graceful as it was swift and as much combat skill as it was art. Her motions began at the same moment the trigger was pulled. Her future sight informed her of the location of every bullet before it left the barrel, of the place it would travel, the reaction she needed to make to it and suddenly the entirely human would seem super human. Reflexes honed by a lifetime of training kicked into high gear as bullet trajectories were played out in her mind's eye in the time it took for the trigger to move from resting to depressed.

No Caption Provided

Each bullet was struck from the air by the cold vibranium staff, smashing uselessly against the metal and deflected away from the person they were intended to cut down. Vael was more than a mage, she was highly trained, highly experienced bo-staff warrior (she wasn't bad with a sword either, but she didn't like blades) who had long believed that being able to defend herself physically was just as important as being able to defend herself with magic. Magic could fail, and when it failed, she needed something to fall back on.

Smashed bullets rained to the rooftop around her in the same manner drops of water had done so just a few heart beats sooner. One bullet, two, a dozen and so on, smashed from the air with artful precision. Vael though, gifted and trained as she was, was also still only human, her agility was peak, her reflexes peak, but they were not extra human and an entire magazine worth of fully automatic rifle rounds was difficult to deflect without any sort of error. Two bullets made it past her staff, though both were robbed of much of their momentum, their shape and their aim. They tumbled end over ruthlessly smashed end until one aimed for her heart instead lodged itself in her shoulder, avoiding critical components of the joint by the smallest of margins. The second bullet struck her hip on the left side, smashed into the bone and fortunately avoided organs or complete bone penetration or fragmentation.

When the magazine was dry Vael ceased her movements, blood ran from the pair of wounds and pain coursed through her body along with fury that someone would penetrate her defenses, fury at herself for failing and fury at the machine for daring to shoot at her in the first place. Supreme arrogance laced with raw emotion flooded her mind and pushed her to extend the limits of her spell-casting. Where as before she'd been sticking to low level spells, now she wanted the complete obliteration of her opponent. From a tactical standpoint she also understood that so wounded, she wouldn't be able to keep up this fight for ever and if pressed too hard would be left with few options, none of which she wanted to commit to yet.

"Oth-etaka-ven-tamor!" She shouted the words with fury dripping from every syllable and the power to manipulate the very molecules of water in the air, on the ground...in her target...was hers. Biting back the pain as she strode towards the edge of the rooftop Vael reached out with her power and tapped into every single water molecule in and on her target. Expecting that the wave would leave water wedged in the most useful places, she sought to harden it, turn it to solid ice and rip it free. If there was water between the metal plates of the machine it would freeze and thus expand, pushing apart armor plates, damaging joins and essentially tearing at the machine from the inside.

She had different plans for the molecules on its surface. The gun had to go, she tapped into it as well and drenched as it was, water would be everywhere...more importantly, it would be in the chamber. Said water would freeze instantly and suddenly expand, hopefully distorting the firing chamber and preventing successful firing. She did the same to the water that would hopefully be soaking the firing spring. On the surface of the machine she pushed at the molecules, seeking to push every last molecule of water around the machine ,seeking openings and weak points. Anywhere the water could enter, she would force it to do so, hoping to damage circuits and plunge the water into the inner workings of the machine, if at all possible. If not, then it was a simple matter to repeat the process of freezing and expanding.

All the while she felt blood running from her wounds and knew that her stamina was escaping with it. Soon she would have to make a choice.

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#33 Posted by XRiskyX (12700 posts) - - Show Bio

@tenjin: @cassius_knightfall:

It all began with a strange, tickling feeling in the back of her head. No, not so much a tickling, more of a pull. It started in that special place right under her cranium and went through her neck and her shoulders down her spine into her thighs that tightened and around her ribs where it laid on her chest and made it hard to breathe for a millisecond.

Shocked she inhaled the stale air of the ammunition storage and let the smell of cordite and gunpowder fill her nostrils. She remembered that feeling, that shortness of breath. Their acquaintance reached way back. The first time it had shown itself when she had been a kid. She had played hockey on the street with her friends and as usual she had been completely immersed in the game. Suddenly this special feeling had invaded her body and out of pure reflex she had jumped off the street. The next moment a cherry red Porsche had sped around the corner, almost too fast to even notice. Nothing more than a crimson blur. Her friends had managed to jump out of the way, too. Like little mice before the cat they had reacted on her sudden outbreak and had joined her in her sudden evasion. All but Emily. The red sports car had hit Emily right front and like a grotesque ragdoll she had rolled over the hood and windshield. Her bones broken it had enabled her to assume completely new, absurd positions the human body was never supposed to be in. The moment she had landed Risky’s friend had not been more than a lump, bloody heap of flesh while the car had made a cowardly getaway. With great eyes Risky had examined the repellent thing that had been her friend in the late afternoon light. On this day she had vowed to forever listen to that special feeling.

Today was no exception. Following her inner guardian angel she instantly went into a split. As the mysterious attacker went over her like a nocturnal bird of prey her warning system proved to be a life saver for the probably ten thousandth time. Her system was already sated with so much adrenaline that she could perfectly perceive the blade and how it missed her by only a millimeter. She witnessed how the sharp steel managed to shear of a few hairs and watched the deadly play of light as it went past her. There was not even a sound, only the faint glimmer of the blade in the darkness. Undiscernible even to the most attentive audience. This man was a true professional. If it had not been for this short breathlessness she would be dead by now. Split in half. Ironic if one considered she was part of the Unified Mutant Underground.

But he did not stop there. Like a murderous dervish he whirled around spitting shadow in all directions. It was a fascinating display of elegance. A deadly flower opened and spat its dark pollen into every direction. There was no way to say what these projectiles consisted of. Steel, pure shadowstuff or something even more obscure. She knew better than to challenge her legendary luck.

One blink. One single blink sufficed and the world around her was a different one. No, not the world. Her perspective of it. She know looked at a world of white smoke beneath her. Standing high on top of one of the crate stacks she had intended to blow up only two seconds ago she observed an ocean of white smoke where she and her attacker had danced their deadly ballet. The Artful Attacker had nuanced his skillful assault with a phosphorous grenade. If she had been in there she would be blind or even burned by now . A combination of teleportation and luck had saved her again.

If he wanted to play she was more than happy to oblige. Lightning fast she whipped out two Tec 9 submachine guns. As they found their ways out of their holsters into her hands they felt like actual parts of their body. Time to party.

Or so she thought. Almost demon like he peeled himself out of the darkness. A portal of sinister origin, a vortex of corrupting energies, emitted cold and sucked the warmth from her body. She could feel it even through her insulated, armored suit. It was not so much a coldness of the body but more one of the soul. And the moment he smiled, that precious second before he threw the kick, she suddenly felt even colder.

She barely managed to get her weapons between herself and the attack but it did not help much. Bones gave a nasty cracking sound and a sharp pain shot through her whole body as the pure force mangled her physical form. She had managed to protect her pressure point but the damage was still considerable. Broken bones with a single strike, not to speak of the countless hematoma. But worse than that was the fact that Newton had been aware of: No action without reaction.

Not being able to stand the impact of the attack the Risk Taker was hurled through the hall like a cheap toy. The world moved around her too fast to react, a miasmic kaleidoscope of light and darkness. It swirled around her on her flight making her dizzy and confused. The air made swooshing sounds as she quickly passed through it.

Her halt was as sudden as brutal. With wood splintering in all directions she crashed into one of the wooden crates. It stopped her involuntary travel effectively but not necessarily pleasant. Finding herself in a pile of Beretta 92 still above the ground she was fed up with the Nasty Ninja being one step ahead of her. Ignoring the flames on her forearm where the flaming kick had hit her she hoped the insulation would hold for a few more seconds before she evened the playing field a bit. Smiling an impious little merc smile she brought up her weapons and went to work.

The burst from her left weapon was not more than a simple mean to keep him occupied, to give him something to dodge. If it hit him by some miracle only the better. But given the direction the bullets came from it was most likely that he would dodge to the right where the real attack awaited.

Her right weapon was the decisive one though. Seemingly missing him by less than a foot it had not been aimed at him. Instead she had targeted the box on his upper right, a good amount above his head. Hitting the perfect spot the side of the container opened and rained a cascade of tank shells down on him. Despite posing the obvious threat it would make him tread carefully and be a bit more cautious with his pyrotechnical tricks.

Still she did not stop. Teleporting around him in quick succession, not staying in place for more time than it needed to pull the trigger, she attacked from three different angles. The devious aspect of this attack was that she would appear, pull the trigger and then randomly appear in another place, sometimes even in midair, to unleash the burst.

After her last burst she would rematerialize in the fourth direction she had not attacked from yet fully aware that she was open for another lethal strike from her opponent. For this reason she held the satchel with the explosives she had originally planned to use in front of her to catch the blade and block it. With this maneuver she intended to bring the destructive load close to her enemy.

The trigger for this explosive charge still rested safely in her pocket. Yet…

Readying for the answer she let off a short message to her co-conspirator.

“Zealot to Scion: Champion arrived! Need assistance!”

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#34 Edited by Cassius_Knightfall (12600 posts) - - Show Bio

@xriskyx: @tenjin

Reaching for his pocket whilst ducking low behind a counter. Bullets flying overhead. A glimpse of its words was enough "Dammit." Slipping it back into his pocket as he rose raining rounds at the remnants of the French nation reserve. Counting his rounds as he fired off at his targets. Four left, three, two. Swiveling from his hips and firing the last in his clip through the nearest window. Breaking into a running stride. An orchestral bombardment of gunfire exploded around him, automatic rounds peppered the walls, the window frame all but one bullet missing the running renegade as he breached the glassy fractured frame.

Plummeting from the second floor and hitting the ground with a roll, a sharp pain rampaged up and down his left leg as a cascading flow of crimson pulsed out from his fatigues. The bullet having grazed a near surface artery. Grabbing a table cloth from a local bistro as he limped by, ripping the fabric between tooth and fist before pulling a tight knot down on the wound. Standing a little firmer the weaponised warrior picked up his pace and approached the main road. Hearing the throaty grunt of an approaching motorcycle.

"CRACK"

"WHURRRRRRR"

The rider didn't even move till he hit the floor. Cassius already flooring the throttle know he had at least half an hour to get to his allies side.

27 minutes later...

Pinning back to the throttle fully Cassius aimed to smash through a wall in the building his ally was hopefully still in. Breaching through brick and tinder showering the entire room in shrapnel spotting movement and instinct taking over the masked marque of mayhem placed a grenade under his seat pulled the pin and launched the vehicle come bomb towards the target ahead of him.

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#35 Posted by Neuromind (150 posts) - - Show Bio

Late

The only word running through the mind of Ronald Larson as he booked it back to the Regalius Zeta Port, his black suit jacket fluttering behind him as he rounded corner after corner. He was in the middle of a defense ministry meeting, he had to give an update on his newest project to the Orbital Knights and Cross. Of course while he was in the middle of that business Earth decided to throw a hissy fit, signaled by the soft beeping of his watch. It was synced directly up with Phobos-2's central computer which, through the use of those nice cable and radio satellites in space, kept track of things on Earth.

He took a wide left into the janitors closet, locking the sliding door behind him.

"Computer, begin launch sequence"

The mop bucket in the corner began to rumble, a few drops of water splashing out from the red container. From that murky brown water rose a control panel with all kinds of shiny glowing buttons on it's surface. Ronald's fingers began dancing across them, entering all kinds of key presses. From behind a shelf containing all kinds of cleaning supplies slowly slid back into the wall and over. With a few more key presses the black indent was alive with bright yellow light that took the shape of a doorway sized rectangle. With a sigh of relief he took a step through it and found his feet on the metal walkways of Phobos-2.

"Computer whats the situation"

At Larson's request a slightly robotic female voice began speaking through the P.A. system.

"A peaceful protest in France has turned into an all out riot sir. In the time it took you to respond multiple high class targets have begun engaging one another. How would you like to proceed?"

This was a dangerous game, high class targets engaging amidst common civilians never lead to good things. He had scene enough news footage and archived Internet videos to understand exactly what happens during these events on Earth. Buildings get leveled, countless civilians die, and all so a couple super powered badarses can throw down.

"I want Twenty Copper Titans to create a perimeter. Set their Priority Sequence to Civilian protection and Evacuation. Use strictly non-lethal force. As for myself, prepare a Sonic Nightmare, things are gonna get hairy."

His hands reached up taking hold of both segments of his white collared shirt. With a hard pull the buttons popped off into the air revealing a black rubber suit with a large N printed across the chest.

France

The whole city was in dismay, crowds of people engaged crowds of mutants in violent combat, buildings were being torn apart by ravaging crowds of ravaging citizens. Then there were the heroes and villains, capes and costumes locked in a clash that would never end until one fell bleeding. Water flooded the streets and was then frozen, bullets tore through the air with ferocity and pin point accuracy. It was in these moments that the costumes would always lose sight of what was important, protecting the people. Amidst their endless fighting a body count would start to rack up and from the skies, like copper colored angels of justice, they would descend. A group of twenty Copper Titans would form a wide circular formation, and descend onto the streets below. From their artificial vocal boxes a message began broadcasting in a loop, it's robotic tone filling the streets.

"Citizens, we are here to help. Cease all illegal actions and head to a safe area."

Once their mechanical feet hit the ground they were met with what was to be expected. Rioters didn't want to stop, they were outraged, all they wanted to do was release their anger on the nearest thing they could. Now both mutants and people had something to hit, small groups would charge the machines with baseball bats or pipes while mutants let loose an onslaught of their powers. The drones would react in the way they were programed and informed to. Non-Lethal methods of neutralization, for this they had all been equipped with screecher grenades. As the stray crowds charged in the devices would be fired out in all directions. Their silver metallic surfaces would hit the ground and when they did an ear piercing sound would erupt. The sound was designed to attack the equilibrium, people would lose their balance, begin vomiting, and lose their sense of spatial awareness.

Then there was Ronald himself, his suit was different. He was located inside the body of a Sonic Nightmare, a suit designed to handle high-powered bruiser targets. It's black surface dropped down in front of the largest portion of the crowd.

"Fear Not Citizens, Neuromind is here. If you could all please retreat to safety that would be greatly appreciated."

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#36 Edited by Tenjin (2432 posts) - - Show Bio

The Fatal Phantom's eyes narrowed after his furious roundhouse succeeded in breaking bone and sending his foe jolting down the hallway in an uproar. As Risky barreled beneath the artificial lights only to collide with a cedar crate some distance away, Tenjin focused his cybernetic gaze on coordinating his next assault, reading various signatures such as distance and impact, while utilizing his battlefield mapping abilities to make minute adjustments in his tactics. Hanzo was not inclined to bouts of sadistic pleasure, there would be no relishing in a moment that would be time better spent formulating the killing blow. Thus during those few seconds, the Sensational Shinobi stood in utter silence, a ghastly specter half hidden in shadows cast down from the towering piles of crates and ammunition around him and throughout the building. Tenjin fancied himself the world's greatest killer, he wasn't going to waste his time idly however, he was of all things a ninja and was prone to surprises galore.

Hanzo watched with enthusiasm as the bullets poured from the barrel, his reflexes beyond human capability, their courses set in a spread which occupied the left side of his hemisphere. His war portfolio was inches thick, his training vast in all areas that dealt with the extermination of other creatures, not only theoretical knowledge but practical and proven in the field. From this he gathered immense expertise, this is what gave him in edge in combat. Tenjin knew he was be baited; Risky was herself a warrior, he had encountered her work before in a dossier provided by his unnamed employer. She was too well trained to miss, and not only miss one, but many. However, due to his curious nature and his deadly cunning, he would play her game.

Bolting to the right in a commando fashion, he turned onto his right toe and heaved himself into a somersault, utilizing his shoulder as a point of contact instead of his hands and rolled along his axis from shoulder to shoulder and onto his knee, from this controlled fall he locked into a crouching position and listening to the sounds of bullets riddle wooden planks to his left. Dust belched out from the impact of each round as his sensitive ears honed in on Risky's position as her right arm was already drawn, also bearing a submachine gun. Yet, she had already fired a quick burst before he fully realized the extent of her attack. Launching himself forward with sudden speed, he propelled himself two meters towards his opponents position whilst a payload of tank shells stormed down upon him. Luckily, the projectiles were not impact sensitive upon the casing, but the noses had been loaded with a modern percussion fuse. Tenjin's body had proved to be an adequate buffer between the shells and the cement floor, allowing them to fall onto their sides from a short distance. Tenjin's armor absorbing the brunt of the impacts, merely forcing him to the ground and receiving a good rattling, his ears ringing and vision rather blurry. However, he had been buried halfway up his shins with ordnance and Risky was not yet complete with her attack.

Standing to his feet, his hulking physique highlighted by the artificial light around him, the Impeccable Annihilator unsheathed one of his masterfully crafted blades from the scabbard on his back with haste, allowing the katana to breathe out a terrible venomous sounding hiss as it glistened in the light, revealed and shimmering from his allegorical slumber. Without contemplation, he leaped to the right in a series of acrobatic flips, clearing several meters and away from the shells, landing on his feet with cat-like grace.

Just as his toes touched the cold ground beneath, his foe teleported above him, out of range from a reactionary physical strike by the assassin, and pulled the trigger with amazing accuracy. With a swift upward slash, angling his sword with perfect pitch, the sweeping motion of his weapon did not cut the bullets in half, as they were too well placed to do so with a single stroke from such a short distance, but used the length of the blade and the surprisingly rapid movement to reflect them down to cement and out of the way, causing them to dash and score the ground six meters to his left. While the blade was still in motion, like a silver streak in the air, Risky appeared again via teleportation to his right, behind him, placing the barrel of the guns inches away from his back and layered his body with bullets too fast and close for him to react. His armor, composed of vibranium would repel most, yet, Ruby's mutant luck allowed for two rounds to sneak in between folds in the Vibranium scales and against the grain of his carbon-nanotube husk, penetrating the lower center of his back. Before Hanzo could notice the pain, his foe was on the move, teleporting below him, inches above his feet and fired upwards. The Death Device was quick enough to recognize the foe and pivoted thrice in a spiraling maneuver backward and to his left like a wonderful dancer as his sword blade swirled in a counter-clockwise motion, flinging bullets in all directions with expert precision. As his sword made its pass, Hanzo unholstered the Glock G29 on his thigh.

For her final teleporting blitz she appeared off of his centerline, a few paces in front of him and pulled the trigger just as Tenjin's sword was at its zenith, pointing straight up, himself posed in a combat position more akin to a fencer than a samurai, his posture stiff yet nimble and heels pressed together with knees slightly bent, his non-sword hand wrapped behind him bearing the semi-automatic pistol. Tenjin spun from this posture down, rotating quickly as he spread his knees as he sank into a simian position allowing bullets to pass above his head effortlessly only, again due to Risky's luck, a bullet bypassing his reflexes and armor to tear into his cheek and out his open mouth.

Blood poured out from behind his pearl white teeth, but hidden behind his shinobi shroud, the metallic taste filling his mouth and an explosion of pain burst from his back as blood seeped from his two wounds, centimeters from his spine but he could feel one rubbing against a vertebrae and the other lacerating an organ. He would not be able to continue much longer without posing the risk of bleeding to death. His back began to swell as his foe displayed the explosive satchel in front of him, a reminder of the surroundings and the use of his own detonation devices, watching her lips as she spoke to her ally on the front.

A message was intercepted which Risky had relayed to her comrade Cassius, thus by the aforementioned third party station which was employed by the Superb Swordsman, this message allowed them to triangulate Cassius' position. Via the same drone that allowed Tenjin to hunt down the Target that rose from the shambles across the hall, Cassius' position was revealed as he raced down the street on his acquired two-wheeled petrol stallion.

Hanzo's silence broke, his rather fanciful manner of speaking slightly obscured from the hole in his face "Bring the Knightfall to me...." Blood forced out from his cheek and into view, allowing his enemy to see her handiwork, to see the veiled murderous ghost as he truly was, a mortal.

As Cassius twisted the throttle back, redlining through the streets of France like a bat out of hell, a shadow portal would appear before him, twenty meters in width and nanometers in front of his tire to summon him only ten yards from the munition cache where the pair of fighters were located, his speed unobstructed and harmless in nature. Yet he would race through a dark mirror of this realm, where the terrible hauntings of the long dead still tremored awful moans.

Tenjin rose once more, his appearance lurching like a creature from beyond the grave, his stare was intense as he maintained eye contact with his foe before him, sword nestled softly in his hand as Gilgameshian arms curled slightly as he spoke once more, his voice was almost Luciferian in tone. "Prepare to die, Ruby Glassman."

Just as his sentence ceased, his superhuman ears caught the sound of Cassius's motorcycle rocketing through the wall, spraying all manner of debris out into a thick haze and becoming an improvised torpedo as his newfound foe placed a grenade artfully under the seat and allowed the motorcycle to fly headlong towards Hanzo with vicious intent.

Hor a brief moment, as the motorcycle came forth, Tenjin averted his gaze back to Risky, his eyes and the surrounding flesh only visible beneath his shinobi façade, molded into an uncontrolled cocky grimace evidently at the irony of the situation; using explosives surrounded by ordnance was a grave mistake.

With great haste Tenjin left the moment as it was and returned to his killing machine antics, sheathed his sword with uncanny skill while activating another smoke bomb, releasing a cloud of white phosphorus smoke into the air once again all the while he leaped back as the motorcycle came within range, attaching a thermobaric mine dispensed from the flatspace holster to the side of the engine and immediately teleported outside of the building to safety.

Materializing at the center of the courtyard, ripping into the plane through limbs of shadows and horror, he watched as the combination of Cassius' grenade, his thermobaric explosive and the fuel of the motorcycle exploded too near to the tank shells that lay littered across the ground from Risky's attack and caused the cache to be overtaken in a series of plumes of flames and detonations, ripping bricks and rafters and beams from its construction and sending them soaring several meters into the air in a cloud of smoke, mingled with the vermillion, orange and canary yellow belches of hell which shook the emerald grass around it.

Hanzo stayed in the cold wind, watching as the flames grew higher as mother nature breathed life into the inferno, wooden crates providing more fuel for the oxygen-hungry flames to reach for the heavens if they could. Still gripping his firearm, he began scanning the fiery wreckage for signs of life while, as any ninja worth his merit would have done, attached tracking devices somewhere on Risky's and Cassius' positions, using the motorcycle stunt as a sleight of hand. If his foes somehow managed to escape the blast, he would be able to find them once again.

Using his armor's photon absorbing ability and the vibranium soles on his feet, Hanzo made a short retreat into the treeline nearby. Taking refuge in the midst of a large oak, he began performing on the spot surgery as he quickly unlatched a piece of his armor about the back and pulled the rounds from the wounds using a brutal and painful method making an incision using one of many throwing knives and then clawing the round out. Quickly, Hanzo ejected three bullets from his own gun, broke them open using his bare strength and applied the gunpowder around the holes on his back and inside them. Without hesitation, the Grim Ghost used a still glowing ember from the massive explosion nearby to ignite the gunpowder and cauterize the wounds. It two bright flashes, Hanzo grunted in pain just as he relatched his armor back together and lifted himself to his feet, rotated his shoulders and smirked with absolute nefariousness as the dark consumed him in perpetual shadow.

These two foes were worth too much to let slip away, no matter the number of lives he had to take to see that enormous payment. He would have to reaccess his targets, let them feel safe, even for just a moment, then he would strike again.

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#38 Edited by Dandy (362 posts) - - Show Bio

Dear Reynard; “You’re a pretty nice guy”

Few moments before compromise.

20 rounds were fired, each made the robot process a thought on the situation.

(@vael) The blaze struck rapidly, flaring the situation in the processors fast thoughts. As lighting from the barrels compensator exuded the flesh shredding ballistics towards the demon female, it had expected something more victorious. Her magical properties and the velocity of her skills had become uncalculatable. After the first quarter of the clip, sudden equations had been declared faulty equipment due to battle, scaring the interior assembly to produce the submachineguns extreme fire rate. At least that is what it had concluded without using the infinite algorithms of magic.

By half of the expended clip it had noticed the dirt riddled water containing bile liquids floating a top of the streets inch deep river. Quickly scanning the contents at a clogged sewage drain, the expended amount of blood, feces and vomit had nerve agents detected inside the first layers of slime. The thought was processed, An anomaly sparked as true worries had arrived in its mind. this was bad, and it has to stop. The front lines of the riots were being heavily damaged with eerie disturbances of gags and suffocation.

The robot began to narrow down its solution while everything was happening all at once.

The entire weigh of metal was spent, she was hurt. Promptly the programmed tactics had forced the legs and arms to continue its assault after the guns clip was empty. There was no hesitation. There was no feeling or emotional thought to cease the systematized combat structure.

Unlike the designs of the living, Dandy felt no pain. No ballistic, blade or bomb would barricade the terminating machines exterior armor. Not until the programmed algorithms had to adjust for survival was when Dandy had to rethink situations differently.

This would be one of those moments.

The water began to expand. The demons sorcery had commanded the unholy water to deconstruct and critically dissemble the exterior plating by flooding fissures and joints with immeasurable power. The design of the unit was meant to handle even the hardest explosive barrages of military jets, however this was too concentrated unlike the raw power of a missile.

This was focused and had the intent to exploit weakness.

The unholy water tainted and softened the tectonic pressure that the plates had. One by one the weight was lifted. Dislocating the quivering plates into a shatter. Exposing critical regions to water that damaged its interior and most importantly, the star that it contained inside. Unveiling the power core, blinding burnished emanated a cantankerous flickering light that was as bright as the sun. The operating cyrostat was crushed, removing the only thing that was preventing Dandy from unleashing nuclear hell. It began to overheat and resist the generating elements that apposed the robot, evaporating the presence of water and ice almost instantly. Increasing the streets temperature, the all-mighty thermal nucleus was re-purposed as soon as its cover was removed. The crux of the matter is that the situation now exposed the robots naked soul that burned intensely with rage, this would be easily dealt with if it had been a normal automaton. Contrast to most technology, Dandy would continue to work no matter how many errors it was experiencing thus causing hell-bent intentions to terminate to continue.

The machine finally came to the best valuable solution based on its malfunctioning software. Its arsenal has been disarmed, the key to new weaponry was accepting its own destruction, the supernova in its chest was put into play. With its lethal-cache as its primary motive, the possessed husk screamed out "FINISH, KILL KILL KILL KILL"

Going towards the demon sorcerer that had bought it this pain. Its weight was removed causing the light frame to move at blurring speeds as it suddenly took off into the air. Thrusting itself with repulsing back boosters that directed the kamikaze. En route to the most valuable target, its processor kept scanning at intense speeds with the focus to save the victims in pain and kill those who brought it down. The most concentrated area of screams was a frequency of multiple screeches. Instantly changing its designated destination towards the humanoid copper threats. They were at the right location at the wrong time, the protective intentions had spawned a Balrog that charged from the tides of the riot. (@neuromind)

The radiant nova reflected off hundreds of windows of the street following the path of copper towards the entrance of the palace. (@cognus_)

Its explosive radius was big enough to engulf the palace front. Bursting. The possessed kamikaze scorched with the heat of a star, unleashing the fever inside of its infected nucleus, exorcising itself..

0.05 seconds before the inevitable. A paroxysm of concern was sent.

(@_reynard_) Detaching its mind from its soul. The automaton delivered its last thoughts to its main server, leaving its last memories imprinted amidst the moments of clarity. Betwixt the moment of life and death it felt an eloquent emotion. Embracing the false heroism that had reprogrammed itself in its final moments. If the creator were to ever retrieve the diablolical cog that emanated such an action. He would read the message-

-"DangdyL isa1s sborry. Dasd2rhndy fuuueaseels different. Dands46tTty is abnormyu3ality. Dandy is compromised. Dandy is virus."

-Love Dandy

The uninjured flash drive was let free like a dove from the clutches of inferno that caged it.

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#39 Edited by Hunter_Reed (45 posts) - - Show Bio

@cassius_knightfall: @xriskyx: @tenjin:

With pera-militarized uninformative and covert insertion, the Metal Militia; led by Hunter Reed, rapidly filed into an underground parking garage with a visual stream of all black Range Rovers. Parking before quickly disembarking. Beards, ballcaps, skull themed balaclavas, partial face masks all displayed the militia's individual preference for gear, as well as intimidating utility. Moving with equal confidence, they silently re-convened around the lead vehicle where the Huntsman had already turned the hood into an improvised command center. Which consisted of but a single hand held portable device. His boot unapologetically propped up on the front bumper allowing him to rest his arm atop the knee, before swiping right with two fingers igniting an interactive 'leap-motion' hologram of the immediate area, streamed in real-time. Presumably through an amalgamation of sophisticated tech and hacking of local CTV feeds.

It was then that the milita subtly flinched, subtly stepped back as the cinematic projection premiered an unexpected and destructive explosion in the front of the Palace. All except for Hunter. His reaction was something else entirely. Reaching into one of the ladder pouches on his urban colored tactical vest to retrieve a partial smoked Coronado, letting it loosely hang from the corner of his lips in the midst of an antagonistic smirk, but his gaze remained dialed in on the objective, zeroed in on the rolling charcoal colored stack of smoke that had proceeded the second more dramatic crescendo of fiery destruction.

"Here." his Aethrium finger pointed. Using the rest of his digits to single out and expand a particular region of the hologram, extrapolating it until a clear decisive image of the munitions depot had become evident. "Lets move" the gravel grunt was met with eager but vocally muted obedience as the militia,with near perfect synchronization delved into their personal duffles, backpacks and portable armament caches. Hitting the war-torn streets of the city with stealth and well-rehearsed situational awareness. Strategically swimming through the urban sprawl using the various and well spread skirmishes and chaos to conceal their movements.

No Caption Provided

With non-verbal commands Hunter directed half the milita towards what remained of the munitions depot to prepare for a possible Ballistics's breach. Spotters having already been dispatched towards the outer perimeter, while the Helifax of Homo-Superior advocation inspected the treeline, one of only a minuscule number of possible extraction points.

His prosthetic hand hovering over an unexpected scene. Something had been there. Injured, yet medically trained as the physical evidence suggested. Placing the bloody fragments into a protective case as he stoically crouched in position, the Huntsman surveyed the surrounding area with optical brilliance in a blind effort to uncover any or all survivors.

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#40 Posted by _Reynard_ (3203 posts) - - Show Bio

“Is that all I got he asks?” Reynard chuckles, he couldn’t believe humanity sometimes. He scanned his opponent’s body with his x-ray vision and saw that he had a cracked rib and a punctured lung from the flick. “God, I don’t know if you’re dense or just posturing, but I think it’s obvious that I'm not even trying right now. So, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say it’s the latter.” Multiple shots bounced his body like the psychedelic bounce balls he bought as a kid. Three in his head, three in his chest, one in his crotch area, Cognus shot him in mid- air and landed perfectly like a Russian ballerina. His aim would have been fatal under a circumstance where Atticus was just an unpowered like his him. He could have dodged them, but he wanted to drive the point further.

“As much as I appreciate the effort, I was hoping you would have caught on already. I’m not here to “battle” you as you put it so dramatically. You’re really not worth my time.” With one wink, he attempted to melt the handguns’ barrels Cognus held by causing the particles to combust in the weapons. Reynard had noticed the gas, but he pretended not to. He had more important things to take care of than instant diarrhea gas or even riot robots before he knew it.

No Caption Provided

“Wait, shut the hell up for a moment.” A signal blasted into his ear. Codes being activated inside Dandy’s processor. He had programmed the killing machine with specific sound pattern inside his brain like a million musical notes playing simultaneously and the fragment of a second. They had been programmed with a pattern like brainwaves. This specific pattern was called “Carpe Mortem” or “Seize Death”, in Spanish it meant “Vive la Muerte”.

“Oh f**k.”

Dandy’s death was an opportunity, the pitch of the notes grew higher in frequency like Bernard Hermann’s Psycho, the part that has been clichéd across media over the years and associated with the infamous shower scene.

Atticus watched as Dandy flew towards the palace in one last act of heroism, the underlying notes behind the fear of death filled with sadness and sacrifice. That told him that something was wrong with the robot, Reyanrd found nothing honorable about dying and killing people in the process. The combination of both melodies did not blend well with him.

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense.” As Dandy would impact against the building, Atticus flew up into the air and created a telekinetic shield over the palace containing the radius of the explosion. The robot was programmed to ditch his memory before death. He picked up the last reminders of his dead robot friends. “Oh well, I can always make a new one.”

Slowly, he levitated back to the President of France. “Sorry, where were we? Fight to the death. I was going to tell you how I would kill you, but it would solve nothing. So, I’m going to leave. I pretty much did all I wanted to do today. I’m sure you’ll be able to prep for the next fight with some armor, and actually pose a threat or whatever. Sucks about the palace, asshole.

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#41 Posted by Neuromind (150 posts) - - Show Bio

"Well that was anti-climactic..."

When the explosion began Neuromind's optical sensors went crazy, a high moving object exerting that much raw, destructive, and down right lethal power presented him with a situation he hadn't thought he would need to face for awhile. He knew that being a hero meant putting your life on the line and dying in that very way but, he was at least supposed to be known first.

He had already begun directing power towards his suits primary thrusters, the flames began pumping out causing his body to ascend and then...it was contained. The guy in the purple that looked straight out of the cartoons exerted his own powers over that explosive force. The good news was that the people were unharmed and the massive explosion seemed to shake some sense into most of them. The bad news was, the palace was left as nothing but a pile of smoldering rubble.

“Sorry, where were we? Fight to the death. I was going to tell you how I would kill you, but it would solve nothing. So, I’m going to leave. I pretty much did all I wanted to do today. I’m sure you’ll be able to prep for the next fight with some armor, and actually pose a threat or whatever. Sucks about the palace, asshole.

Spoken like, somewhat, of a true hero. The drive to leave people alive when you had the ability to kill them in a heartbeat was something of a hero needed to have. Guys like Thee Champion could level the planet if they wanted too but, they chose to ally themselves with the forces of good rather then the forces of evil which was something he admired about the heroes of Earth.

"Computer set all active Copper Titans to cleanup with a secondary function of civilian defense. Make sure any stray rioters get handed over to the proper authorities."

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

@hunter_reed:

Appearing from behind an ancient oak, like an old god whose name was lost to ruins and time long ago, Tenjin stepped out into Hunter's view from several meters inside the forest. His eyes curiously reflecting light in the manner similar to a jungle cat as the darkness around him encased him in obscurity. He had lingered amongst the branches and foliage for some time, watching as his onlooker investigated the scene of his impromptu surgery and studying his biology, weaponry and equipment. Several battle plans processed in his mind, based on the initial information available about the man before him, he conducted a series of chess-like confrontations. A philosopher in profession, Hanzo was a learned man unlike the former possessor of the mantle, his intelligence was deadlier than his sword. However, he held the quote by Erwin Rommel quite close to his black heart, no plan survives contact with the enemy. It was how one adjusted to these changes in tactics that proved the greatness of a combatant.

The Grim Ghost spoke, his voice seemed disembodied due to the shroud which covered most of his pale face. "In most cases, I would continue with my primary objective, unfortunately for you, your superb tracking ability has placed you in jeopardy. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. I cannot let you have those samples you understand?" His Londoner accent still obscured by the wound on his face. Hanzo was referring to the physical evidence that contained his DNA, allowing advanced Government systems to uncover his identity potentially, researching his genetic code, or some other manner of scientific experimentation. He was far too uncomfortable with such things. Surely forensic evidence could also be available in the remnants of the cache, even with a series of explosions and ultimately being overtaken by an inferno, if one had the will to do so. The Grim Ghost was not fond of loss ends.

His form moved behind trees, using the trunks and brush to break up his outline and used the dark to his advantage, he was certain that his foe would still be able to see him, though, he maintained this distance for such a purpose. He was not trying to hide, only waiting to capitalize on a moment. Biding his time.

"You understand I am injured then, yes? One would plainly see I am quite outnumbered and you strike me as a man of action, someone who has tasted blood before and has come to like it. Why else would you be in this business then? Ah, perhaps you tell your comrades and yourself something different. A great warrior needs to be romanticized, yes, for your people, for liberty or for vengeance...for a purpose. But deep down you smelled blood, my blood, and came running like a wolf to the scent of the kill with your pack behind you. You want death, don't you ol' boy? Well..."

For a brief moment, the air was still, a dreadful silence fell near the tree line as in that cascade of darkness, an argent blade revealed itself slowly after drawn out from its scabbard, reflecting dim light in a prismatic fashion. His voice echoed phantasmagorically, like a specter who whispered from beyond. His muscular frame revealed with the highlights of low luminance, deep grooves of war-hardened physical power. "You wolves stumbled upon a tiger, who loves the smell of blood more than you."

Launching himself from the undergrowth, passing through the hanging limbs of many an oak as if a ghost, a moment to the left then without warning, somewhere to the right and vice versa. Vibranium soles made his footsteps soundless while his armor, covered in a specialized film, absorbed ambient photons to sink him in perpetual shadow randomly. Yet, when he entered a range of five meters from Hunter, the Death Device hurled unique spheres from his vambrace at his opponent; sending them on a course in a trapezium shape, with the two top most spheres to explode four feet outside either shoulder while the bottom most to targeting parallel with Hunters knees but explode two meters in front of him. The lower detonations would try to force his foe backward or to either side while the upper outer detonations attempted to keep him contained. The explosions, however, were not of the common ballistic variety, no, they released a thick emerald mist which each sphere became a twelve foot in diameter technological miasma. Containing a deadly concoction of airborne myotoxins, neurotoxins and hemotoxins while being littering with course titanium dioxide to cause lacerations in the lungs or soft tissue due to the concussion nature of the spheres, while such lacerations allowing for the toxins to enter the body via contact or inhalation. Further, Hanzo timed the attack with wind direction to cause the toxic haze to travel towards his rival.

Yet, his onslaught was not done, as the nature of such an attack, while indeed deadly under the correct conditions was meant only as a deceptive maneuver as Hanzo engaged his most strange and vicious ability he possessed.

Bursting forth from a portal from inside the haze, those carnal shadowstuff limbs reaching out as if to take back what emerged, a Shadow Clone, composed of the same nethermatter from which the portal was made of and bearing the exact physical form of the Death Device, was summoned. This Shadow Clone would easily be disposed of with a single strike, yet what it lacked in durability, it provided an offensive advantage. The Clone hurled itself upwards, in a short but perfect aerial corkscrew only to aim a destructive crescent kick, mirroring Tenjin's own strength, for Hunter's skull, only to dissipate into an ebon mist from the impact if it connected or had not been eliminated before hand.

Finally, Hanzo stopped in his tracks, performed a vaulting front handspring utilizing the momentum his distance closing provided, then into a combat roll, rotating twice before landing in a shooter's position, crouching with his Glock G29 perfectly align with his shoulder. His cybernetic gaze activating infrared capabilities, muscles relaxed, his sword balancing like an extension of his own arm, completely level, and opened fire on Hunter timed with the Shadow Clone's appearance and attempted assault. Tenjin's aim was low but lethal, using Black Talon ammunition, known for its large blade like edged expansions on impact, he targeted Hunter's femoral arteries in a quick four shot burst and then a further three shots intended for Hunter's left tibia below the knee, above the knee on the right leg and the final bullet targeting the fibula above the ankle on the closest leg.

His mind began to access the conditions of his assault, taking in various data such as imperfections in the terrain, the speed of his opponent, biometric reactions and the forces that he had under his control and how they reacted. The squadrons were of little interest to the Prince of Spiders, he planned on cutting the head off of the snake, but retrieving the samples in the protective case was the paramount objective, even if Hanzo had to slaughter the lot of them to do so.

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

@cognus_:

No Caption Provided

Time to take over and end this crap. With Reynard departing the field, the robot exploded and the palace demolished, the fight was already beginning to leave the rioters. She teleported to street level, her eyes blazing gold as she held her staff at an angle behind her and casually strolled through the disaster towards its epicenter. Once there, she stood at Cognus' side (though she had no way of knowing he was the President, only that he was an ally) and jammed her staff into the street. Pressing her hand against it and using it for support, she cast her attention to the dying riot. "There are two options. You can go with the robots and deal with the consequences of your criminal law breaking, or you can suffer the consequences of continuing this riot. The people who marched you here have used you and now that they have what they want, they have left. The only reason any of you are alive is because your President, whom you have made it a point to riot against today, wishes it. GO HOME!

Without uttering a command word, a formality she preferred to follow in most instances but not actually a requirement she summoned her massive rain storm once again, water flowed from the sky like blood from a slit jugular and doused the whole city in its cold and watery embrace. Vael closed her eyes for a moment. She was tired, her wounds had taken some of the fight out of her but she refused to acknowledge it or show the weakness in front of the rioters. I need to get medical attention after this.

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#44 Posted by Cassius_Knightfall (12600 posts) - - Show Bio

@tenjin: @hunter_reed@xriskyx

Cassius hit the ground realizing his mistake far too late. He had kicked a nest of hornets introducing a primer with his attack into what would be a much larger explosion. Surrounded by what appeared to be a collection of explosives. Shouting out in the brief moment of silence"RISKY GET DOWN" Driving towards his ally as the spark of the first explosion erupted forth setting off a deadly and deafening destructive shockwave of firey fury. Clattering into his mutant partner as the flames engulfed the room over his shoulder. The Vensezualian wonder metal of his armor working over time to prevent the destruction of the weaponised Knightfall and his humanshielded ally. The shockwaves and heat seeping into the tailored metal but not without a rattle and a slight increase in heat. Fire lapped at the exposed flesh of his open leg wound. Cassius howled in pain as the flame licked at his wound but dared not move as his body and the armor encasing it could save his fellow mutants life. Shaking violently through the gritted-toothed pain but not letting go as the building shook,the roof fell and the world around them went dark.

Seconds or minutes even perhaps hours passed. Had he passed out?, he didn't know but in his sight pinned to the floor by the weight of himself and the remnants of the room was Risky. Who seemed to be shouting at him. Rattling his head around till the sound come back he began to move hearing a foul-mouthed string of insults aimed at him, France and everything else within forty square miles. "Shut up" Cassius placed one hand over her mouth as the sound of lots of footsteps could be heard somewhere amongst the rubble. She picked up the sounds herself as Cassius gestured for her to follow him. Crawling low from their location amongst the rubble to an opening of a sewer. "Get in, your hurt. I got this" Wincing as he got back to his feet and put his full weight on his burnt and bleeding leg.

Not waiting for her to argue Cassius turned and crept slowly back towards the rubble as the sound of chatter erupted to violence. He could see the shadows of multiple targets brawling amongst the wreckage. Unsure of his location or the number of his targets from this location Cassius simply tossed another frag towards the group before popping his head round a corner his pistols raised, ready to pump round down field into anything that moved in his path.

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#45 Posted by Cognus_ (258 posts) - - Show Bio

@_reynard_:

The putrid smell of decaying body fluids filled the air in a wretched stench that seemingly grew worse and worse while vomit and urine began to coat the streets. It was a repulsive scene that turned the battlefield into vile landscape capable of making the most hardened veteran gag. The crowd of protesters, mutant and human alike, were literally soiling themselves into submission. The main target, Reynard, was seemingly unaffected however. The thought of his smug grin beneath his violet hued cowl brought Quinn to clenching his teeth in anger. The moron didn’t know how far he truly had trekked into the Den of the Devil.

The Alabaster Spectre continued his bullet barrage, but the assault was cut short by a sweltering warmth growing within his palms. The dual pistols had been heating up to unbearable levels and glowing a deep orange similar to the radiance of the sun while smoke rose from his gloved fingertips. Deciding quickly and against his sentimental desires, he discarded the pistols and hurled them against the American, not so much as actual projectiles intended to harm, but as a means of spitting in his face.

“You’re right. You aren’t here to battle. You’re presence serves only to illustrate my point further of mutant kind being left unchecked. Your'e only goal here today was to fan the flames of discord.”

Quinn spoke through struggled gasps and bleeding lips. Reynard couldn’t just kill Quinn because if he did, then the world would only see that as a assassination fueled by dissent and disagreement. He would be branded a terrorist to all and a radical by many. It had been quite clear what was truly going on.

With a blinding flash and deafening roar, Quinn was pulled from his thoughts and turned his attention to the source behind him. His Palace, his home, came crashing down. Engulfed in a fierce inferno, the walls of French history came tumbling upon itself while smoke and soot surged around ground zero. The President’s secret bunker and personal affects would likely be unharmed, but the past of his country laid within that palace and were now forever gone because some frustrated old man wanted to prove a point. Being the self proclaimed ‘Hero’ he was, the cretin clad in purple contained it with telepathic means, but he was the reason it was destroyed nonetheless.

“Pride has been the folly for many, Caped Coward. You have made not one, but many powerful enemies this day and when we meet again….You will die.”

Feeling comfortable about the last bits of resistance and pro-government soldiers being able to stamp themselves out, Quinn was deteriorating fast. It wouldn’t be long before the catheter in his chest would clog up and he would need another more efficient one to replace it. The broken ribs that made every single breath he take agonizing wasn’t doing well to distract him either. The palace was gone, but this was a French victory.

@vael

“I need….assistance….a means of transportation to treatment….would be nice.”

His breaths were still haggard as he stumbled back to his female compatriot, unaware if she herself was still engaged in battle or even if she was still alive, but he had trusted her mettle at the start of the day.

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

@cognus_:

"You and me both." Vael said with her trademark smirk. She pressed slid her bo-staff back into its sheath along her spine and put an arm around the injured man. "If you get an urge to throw up, please direct all vomit outside of the vehicle, or in this case, away from me." Vael focused her abilities, channeling manna from their surroundings and into her body before she uttered the simple word of power. "Set-Ahn!" The two vanished from the field.

Teleporting by magic when one wasn't capable of channeling manna was not unlike riding a up and down roller coaster while spinning after eating a full meal, the sensation made most people violently expel their lunch. One moment they were standing in Paris, the next moment they were a world away in an old rotting house in New Orleans. Her normal teleportation was limited to a rather short range but by adding the word 'ahn' to it, she'd activated her teleportation network, a series of teleportation circles she had established in secret areas. She'd yet to have time to build one in Paris, so here they were at her house in the United States.

The first to greet them was her cat.

No Caption Provided

"Don't mind him, he's a guest." She informed the cat. Satisfied the strange creature made its way elsewhere into the house. "We need a doctor!" She called out to the House. One soon arrived...though perhaps not a...traditional sort.

The ethereal being was at best a hallucination, but it was in fact a long dead resident of the house. One of the ethereal being's eyes was nothing but an empty socket and he had horrible marks along the left side of his face, as if someone had spent hours carefully flaying the skin from his face while he was alive.

The doctor started with Vael. He reached out to her shoulder and through her body. When his hand returned he had pulled the fragments of the bullet that caused her wound from her body and let them drop to the floor. He did the same with the wound on her hip and then turned to Cognus.

"Harmless and much faster than a traditional doctor." Vael told him. "Hold still though." Assuming Cognus didn't react violently, the specter would proceed to heal his wounds through paranormal means. There was no pain to the procedure, only a strange unearthly coldness that went away once his hands left the wounds.

Vael dispelled her battle clothing, returning to the dress she'd been wearing when this all started.