Burning_Brawler_NA

Bumping this for myself and any others who wish to make their arcs here to an in-game version.

I tend to have an idea of where I want a story to end, but everything between that point and what I started myself with is totally up to the characters.

As for the Tyrant and Domi piece, I'd read it. I'd be curious about your take on it.

Burning slept fitfully in the hospital ward. Pyra, accompanied by Torcher, saw it as her duty to visit often and observe his progress. The medics were doing all they could, but it seemed unlikely the new coloration of his skin could be reversed. They were told it was fortunate he had lost his eyes years ago and had already replaced them with the glowing, magical orbs he now bore, else he would be in for double the shock. Fortunate was an ironic word sometimes.

The members of the special ops team that had to leave the battle under more critical circumstances were recovering well. Much better than their leader perhaps.

But as the next few days would go on, it would seem unlikely that Burning would ever wake from his fitful sleep. Only time would tell.

I believe my only hero like that is my main. In his case he started as a villain, and later becomes a hero after the first Rikti Invasion with a pardon from Statesman clearing the way politically. Public trust was an issue later dealt with.

Burning left little room for any sort of 'sneak attack.' On the tail end of the powerboosted rage Wolfgang had given him, the VB officer was a whirlwind of explosive flames as the CPSR closed in.

He found himself spending more time trying to blind them with great flares than do any real damage, knowing that pausing for even a moment to do some real harm would result in a stronger injury for him.

Still he found an Iron Hand coming up to his side, hoping to strike him from just beyond his field of vision. Burning dropped from the sky then, letting the swing go right over his head as he plummetted. He caught himself again just before reaching the ground, seeing the Copper Serpent in hot pursuit.

A tiny orb of flame nestled on the tip of Brawler's finger, pointed at the CPSR and the others around him. Just then, Burning felt his knees buckle, the shock from being critically wounded to revitalized and then some and then the sudden draining fo the power making it very hard to focus, even breathe. He quickly let the little orb fly before collapsing to the ground, unconcious.

It was a small thing, hardly discernable from all the glowing, red ashes swirling about the destruction. But as it came near the pursuing CPSR, the orb expanded to an incredible inferno of searing fire in the blink of an eye.

((Np, in the meantime...))

Pyra looked up with concern to where her Brawler was still taking on the spirits one after another, seemingly still riding the boost he'd been given by the cyborg. She obediently followed Teivos out of the crater, as did Torcher. But both were reluctant to move anywhere far from their leader.

The rest of the squad met up with them, four others who hadn't had to make an emergency exit, each looking at the other grimly as the chaos still raged around them. The sight of the Overmages seemingly laid low was sobering.

Rachel Warrens walked through the park, quiet and thoughtful. She came out here to relax, to have a nice day. And why shouldn't she? The day was clear, the air comfortably warm, and if it wasn't she could have made it so. But still memories of her dream sent shivers down her spine. The pain had felt so real...

Her parents told her not to worry about it, that it was likely just a nightmare. People capable of telepathy often experienced intense nightmares, it comes from being able to hear the thoughts of all those around. Not everyone's mental world is sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows.

But the thoughts were soon broken by an alarming thought. Thoughts of savoring the feeling of ripping open flesh with bare hands and extracting supple organs from a warm cavity. Rachel ran for a nearby tree, leaping up and, with a little help from the wind, grabbed a branch to swing herself upward.

Safe in the cover of the leaves, she waved her hands in mystic passes. A small portal opened up, hardly big enough for a person. She reached her arm inside, pulling free her new costume.

It was something. Black tights with deep, pink lightning bolts printed down the legs and arcing over her shoulders. A cape with a pink inside and a black back sat on it, and the dark gloves and boots matched the material of the rest perfectly.

But she didn't allow herself to reflect on her new choice in costume. She cast a nervous glance to the sun, realizing it was rather bright out. A light mist rolled in around the tree, offering some protection from prying eyes as she changed. Pstorm quickly stuffed her street clothes into the extradimensional portal, willing it shut as she lept from her perch and into the air.

It was little surprise to her that she would find a Vahzilok surgeon and a small group of 'undead.' The man's skull mask was disgusting, bits of flesh still clinging to it. Obviously he was a new and... zealous- recruit.

The man held a pair of surgical scissors in one hand, the other gloveless, fingers moving in anticipation as he cut open his victim's shirt, a boy not much older than Rachel herself. He raised the scissors to stab down into soft flesh, his thoughts beginning to feel with the urge to worm his hand down into the small opening the stab would make and begin his grand work.

But Pstorm had other plans. She threw her palm outward, overloading the man's mind with pain. He staggered backward, gripping his head and screaming as his vision blurred. The zombies looked around stupidly for the source of the confusion and soon found themselves flying backward as a small tornado ripped through the group. Pstorm redirected it, the rapidly spinning air picking up the victim and placing him safely on a nearby rooftop.

She dropped down in front of the Vahzilok then, creating a small stormcloud over the alley. Lightning bolts zapped the zombies one by one, leaving just the surgeon. He held a meat cleaver in his hand. Still dizzy, he tried to charge Pstorm. The girl was ready though, a burst of wind building behind her.

But suddenly the man stopped. Utter shock and terror was clear on his face, and the thoughts of murder that he had nearly screamed now turned to a piercing note in Pstorm's ears. She grimaced, forced to hold a hand to her own head, the sound was almost unbearable.

The surgeon's eyes began to bulge as blood rimmed the bottom of his eyelids, begging to drip like long tears. He dropped to his knees, arms dropped, and sat back as more red liquid began to dribble from his ears.

Pstorm stared in shock, the noise gone, and only her and the man who now sat, literally mindless, before her. Her lip quivered for a moment before she turned and ran, all thoughts of the boy still on the roof far from her mind as she sought to just get away.

She needed to get away.

Burning Brawler's eyes flickered, the red coming back into them. As another wave of power came from Wolfgang, his eyes flared with a dangerous light. He rose to his feet, exposed flesh soon covered as the flames wrapped around him in a protective shield.

He didn't seem to notice the others, least of all himself as he kicked off, rocketing towards the spectres that were causing the choppers so much grief. Brawler led with fires as hot as dragon's breath, tearing into the ghosts like paper.

Pyra stared up, open-mouthed, as her boss grapped one Spectre with a flame-wrapped hand, yanking it away from a flier and sending it into a group of its fellows, where it exploded to damage the others.

"Should we help him?" asked Torcher.

"I... I don't know that he needs the help right now," Pyra replied. "We just need to be ready for when he... when he realizes."

The sight was disturbing to say the least. Burning Brawler lay on the ground, face twisted in a grimace of indescribable pain as smoke rose from his body. A body now burnt and scarred beyond recognition. All hair and clothing had been incinerated, his very skin was the color of coal, what skin was left anyway. Large, open sores were revealed, yet he did not bleed, the wounds cauterized by the same heat that had created them.

His pulse was frantic, but regular. His body was working double-time to keep him alive. At best guess, after rescuing Pyra, Brawler had not been in the blast when it came down. But he was still close enough that even wrapped in his own firey protection, he suffered incredible damage.

Yet he remained alive.

But for how long?

((Really? I thought that you meant to do that. >.&gt)

Pyra listened for the to the communication, looking at the strange cloud. "I sure don't know what that is," she muttered. "Torch?"

Torcher materialized next to her in a flash of light. "Boss taught us to fight as a team, didn't do much in-depth magic studies. Think any of these guys might know?" he said, thumbing back toward the remainder of the squad that was finishing patching up its wounds.

"Where is the boss?" said Pyra, suddenly concerned. She looked back to where she had last seen him, where he had saved her from that damned Lichbeam. Eyes narrowing, she leapt out from the cover of the building, dodging the blasts of the spirits still lingering.

She stood in the center of the crater left by the Overmagus. The smoke hardly hindered her vision, her eyes so used to the sting and shady sight. A little further off, she could see a darker patch slumped against the ground. Pyra ran forward, biting her lip, frightened. She came to a stop in front of the huddled form on the ground and tears came to her eyes.

Torcher teleported next to her, his usual smirk soon replaced by an expression of near-horror. "Oh my god," he muttered, placing a gloved hand over his face.

Pyra held a hand to her ear, fighting back tears as she shouted over the network, "I need a med-vac now!"

"Return to me."

The torches flickered as the winds rushed. From the floor, a portal opened to a lower plane of existence. The calls of the damned could be heard, screaming for mercy even as the roars of the fiends overtook them.

Blightlord held his hand over the portal, pulling upward. As he did, a Lich rose, it's robes even more tattered, eyes dimmed. But the creature held itself proudly, standing strong as it was set to land on the floor.

With a sharp gesture, Blightlord closed the portal. He turned to regard his servant. "We have much work to do, Grime."

The Lich's chilling smile grew. "Of course, my lord."

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

The Final Glimpse sat not on the cracked throne atop the great dais, but at its steps. It was what he had always been accustomed to, a habit he had never broken. He looked around at all the mirrors lining the walls of this central chamber. Unlike the dining hall, this room was shaped as a dodecahedron, and each wall held a mirror the height of two men, its surface usually covered with filth or cracked.

There was a time that each of these mirrors held two, three images each, for indeed these were scrying mirrors. Now there was just one in each frame, like a grand portrait.

Or a hit list.

To many, the sight of Blightlord alone would be terrifying, the sight of him and eleven other versions from the vast dimensions would be enough to bring a man to his knees. But for the Final Glimpse, it was fuel. Fuel for his hatred, his rage. His desire for Vengeance.

He would see each of those images fade forever, no longer able to trouble his mind. He would have revenge and he would have his peace. And nothing would stop him.

((You and your Warhammer...))

Burning had just rejoined the squad when the dark spots began to cover the sky. He gasped, unable to believe the Overmagus's complete disregard for the lives of the men on the ground, that of the VB and the Chinese forces.

He looked out as a beam from the darkness lit up a form leaping toward them: Pyra, with another member of the squad under her arm.

There was no time to think. Burning rocketed forward, a hand outstretched. He grabbed for Pyra's arm, swinging her around and sending her hurtling far from the beam. His flight barreled out of control, he was almost out of the radius of light. He wrapped himself in flames.

Then the blast struck.

Burning's eyes grew wide as chaos seem to erupt before his very eyes. Training helped him quicky regain his composure however, turning to regard Isabel. "A promise is a promise. Your cooperation will not go unnoticed. Torcher!" he shouted.

The younger Special-Op member teleported, the official appearance of his uniform betrayed by the almost excited statement of, "Orders, boss?"

Burning handed him Isabel's arm. "You know where she needs to be. She is to arrive their safely, is that clear?"

"No detours, right."

Burning nodded, saluting Torcher as the young man teleported himself and the prisoner, heading for the VB detainment center. Whatever happened to Isabel after that point was really not in their hands.

Before he could even begin to formulate a plan, Burning saw the Overmagus rise into the sky with a magical display of his own. The VB officer couldn't help the feeling of his stomach churning at the sight of the Lich. The creature was unnatural, and while Burning was no stranger to the abnormal, something about the Overmagus had always unsettled him. Yet he couldn't deny the relief that the power being tossed by the abomination was on his side. It was that relief that propelled him back toward the fight, relaying order to Pyra and the rest of his squad to regroup.

Burning couldn't resist a grin when he saw Isabel surrender. Maybe there was some hope for these people after all. He signaled to Torcher to stand ready as he dropped to the ground in front of the girl, a pair of NullCuffs that would suppress her powers, his other hand in front of him, palm facing her. A gesture for calm.

"Please disengage your shield and I can assure you that you will not be harmed."

Burning took off in hot pursuit after Isabel. He was a fast flyer, quick by many standards, but there was no way he could stop or even keep up with her at the rate things were going.

Not without some help, anyway.

Torcher broke away from the fight, teleporting a ways ahead of Isabel. With a brief moment's concentration, he managed to pull Burning to him. The VB officer dropped to the ground, arms out wide and aflame. He clapped them together, sending a wave of fire in the girl's direction. If it didn't hit her, it would hopefully blind her just long enough to not notice the car Torcher had teleported directly into her path.

There's a good ninja mask option (one of the originals, like what the Phantasm pets have) that's about as faceless as you can get.

Or you could go with the full helmet the Paragon Protectors use. Just a sleek surface, no individual feature to it.

I think SV 101 was my favorite, with Anti-Hero a close second.

But I like evil, what can you do?

I miss the school threads. I really do. I know, ironic coming from someone still IN highschool but there it is. I just went and dug back into Anti-Hero 101 for some stuff and wouldn't you know it, I found out I really did enjoy those.

Just saying. >.>

Things seemed pretty grim for the ops team. They functioned as a unit, like clockwork, yet the invaders were moving through them like tissue paper. Burning shook his head as one had his neck snapped and crumbled to the ground. Luckily, a tackling dive managed to save another from losing his head.

He watched as the downed soldier disappeared. Those familiar with the Medport systems probably wouldn't give the occurence a second glance. Burning's worked a little differently however. He had a facility of his own for his men to recover.

Seeing a second and then a third get teleported to safety, Burning knew he would have to intervene. If his men weren't able to handle this, there was no chance the 'normal' soldiers would survive.

He swooped over the fight, dropping a fireball down on top of the one who was throwing the energy blasts. Hopefully the explosion would do something to her fiery friend in the process. "Torcher! Pyra!" he called. "Divide and conquer!"

Two officers broke away from the circle, the remaining five flamethrowers doing the same. Some took to the air while others moved for a defensible position behind a car or just inside a building.

Pyra leapt forward, wrapped in her own shields of flame for the Tanker, aiming to distract him. The one referred to as Torcher teleported to a rooftop and immediately began to teleport Egregore above him in the open air. After that, hopefully he'd have time to let loose another fireball.

As for the rest of the squad, they were taking potshots, not making any intense stand when approached.

"I'm not the dictator here, just the guy with the badge," said Burning. The energy blasts came then, prompting the VB official to activate his teleport spell. The flash was concealed by one of flames, giving the appearance that he was suddenly consumed by them.

A few yards behind them he reappeared and gave the signal. "Move in, capture is a priority."

Ten pillars of fire suddenly rose in a circle around Isabel and Zeo, each eight feet tall. They vanished as quickly as they came, revealing their occupants: men and women dressed in black VB uniforms with a red pattern crossing their chests. On the arms of their uniforms, a single green and black flame was printed.

As one they let loose a fireball for the pair. It was certain to sting if they didn't find a way out. On the rooftop just behind the action, Burning watched with apprehension. His 'special ops' team hadn't exactly had a lot of field tests. The first few went well enough, and their coordination was good so far.

It was good to be funded.

Burning was glad for the 'warning shot' that whizzed in front of him. He pressed forward even faster, the second blast going behind him. He wasn't ready for the fireball however. The blast threw him off his path, sending him towards the wall. The fire itself didn't hurt so much as the impact with the wall.

"Cease and desist!" he shouted, "You are all under arrest. Release the hostage and you are guaranteed some leniency." The hostage was hidden beneath the burly man and the rain of fire had just run its course. He was tense, a spell of teleportation on his lips. If they refused to give up the hostage, and he honestly believed that would be the case, he could be away from retaliation in a flash and the reinforcements could sweep in.

Burning was flying as quickly as he could when the news came over the network. Not only had the Sovereign's parade for the public been attacked, it was being attacked by more outsiders, just like the ones he had encountered earlier.

Zeo was really the only apparent one at the time for obvious reasons. Burning waited a moment, doubting that a blast of fire or freezing the area would really do much against such an enemy. "First things first..."

He held a hand to his ear as he relayed a message over the net. "Get the civilians out, I'll rescue the actors." He sent a second over a private channel, just a quick series of beeps. Nodding, he first swooped in to pick up 'Nosferatu' and 'Requiem.' After setting them on a nearby rooftop, he swung back around for the man in the heavier Vandal costume.

"Now for our 'Sovereign.'" An officer positioned a few yards from the chaos had caught where the kidnapper had run to. A quick spell to highlight persons of power was all it took and Zeo was shining brightly, metaphorically speaking.

Burning dropped nearby, almost invisible. He could see some accomplices, at least one was definitely a member of the Rebellion. "Rebels have allied with intruders," he sent, not knowing that this was probably known knowledge by now after Toy Dispenser's disappearance.

A short set of beeps in his ear told Burning that this time the reinforcements were in place. He nodded, holding a hand up to the sky. A rain of fire began to fall. Granted, it wouldn't hurt much, but that wasn't the goal here.

Hoping to find them distracted, Burning swooped in to grab the 'Sovereign' and take him to where the other actors were waiting for a chopper.

Post deleted by Burning_Brawler

It was rough, flying. Rough when you were dealing with multiple gashes, scrapes, holding together a tattered uniform. Obviously he'd underestimated the other fighters. Or perhaps he'd just hurried in too quickly. Burning had thought that with their theft of the vehichle they would be simple targets, but it was obvious intelligence and strength weren't always as related as he had long believed under the Reichsmann's rule.

It took some explaining, debriefing, repairs, medical assistance, before he was allowed back onto the field. They wanted to know as much about the 'visitors' as possible. At best Burning was able to give descriptions of their abiltities and approximate power levels. Any useful information of WHY they were there in the first place was hard to gather when being assaulted from all sides.

As he flew into the sky once more, back on the hunt, he couldn't help but think how fortunate it was the reinforcements arrived when they did. Under cover of flame and the offense of his fellow VB, he was able to make his escape before capture.

Or worse.

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((Still here. Also waiting. Think I'm waiting on Khell and BB and BB might be waiting on Khell....so....yeah))

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((Bingo))