The War Against Requiem

Saturday, 29th July, 11.03am, Steel Canyon.

He hoped it worked. It had to have worked by now, surely. Of course, what ‘it’ actually was was an entirely different matter. But that favour he was owed from so many years ago had to come through. It had to. Alfred didn’t even know who the favour was from, either, except a vague impression. And it had been so long ago that he was beginning to suspect that the entire episode was a dream – but for CIRCE establishing contact with the mysterious anomaly in space and time that he remembered being told to call. He hoped that it worked.

Alfred gently squeezed Kit’s armoured hand. She probably couldn’t even feel it through the metal and mesh, but she enjoyed holding hands, armour or not. And this time it was perhaps a bit more important to do so. The lift hissed to a calm halt at the ground floor of the Fletched Alliance skyscraper and the door opened smoothly. They stepped out and the heavy stomp of her battle armour entirely drowned out the soft clicking of his shoes on the polished stone floor.

Outside, the natural light was not a grey pallor, as one might expect on a cloudy day, nor a bright and blue-skied one. The light cast was red-orange, the sky glowing like embers from a furnace. Plumes of smoke criss-crossed the heavens, the whirling, weaving contrails from duelling jet aircraft forming abstract artistic patterns against the dark background of black smoke. This seemed to be the way of the skies of the world, for the moment.

Still, at least it was light outside, the sun desperately trying to break through and light up the city. Last night, though darkness had fallen, the glow of the sky had lit the city up in a sickly manner, white surfaces either being in shadow or a blood-red hue that made it seem that the city itself bled in the war.

Freedom Corps had managed to get somewhat organised and began rotating heroes at around 2am in the night, and those who had responded immediately to the invasion had finally been relieved. For the duration of this war, it seemed that the cycle would be never-ending. Eight hours on the front lines, eight hours off. Then back to the battle for another eight hours, hoping you lived to enjoy your next eight hours of merciful sleep.

They were both more than an hour late for duty – Alfred suspected that they’d be listed as ‘dead’, ‘missing in action’, or worse. But Kit and Alfred had plainly needed time, and it was suspected that their absence would not have even been noticed in the chaos. At least now – depending on whose point of view one took – they were at peace with the universe, having been fulfilled, or just had another incentive to survive and return to each other’s arms.

The distant, thunderous rumble of explosions, which had eased off for a few minutes, now came back anew. Above, three Council jet fighters tore past at supersonic speed, pursued by a single USAF aircraft. The sonic boom from the four aircraft was nearly ear-splitting, and only once it had passed did Alfred wonder why three fled from one. His question was answered, however, when, seemingly from nowhere, a bright beam of green-white energy lanced out and struck a Council fighter. The aircraft’s wing was sheared off and it began a long, rapid descent, striking the War Wall and vaporising in a few moments. Alfred looked to the originating location of the beam and saw nothing but a slight distortion in a pallor of smoke.

Such curiosities were quickly forgotten, however. The gate to Baumton now loomed, with soldiers pouring through it in both directions. Those who were leaving were generally being carried on stretchers by their comrades, and an ever-steady supply of fresh U.S Army troops were pouring in to replace them. As Alfred and Kit passed, a hero dressed as a mediaeval knight was taken out of the combat zone on a stretcher, thrashing in pain and rage at being restrained from the battle. The armour was twisted and cut through in many places, and full of bits of shrapnel and bullet holes. His chances did not look good.

The pair passed through the gate and descended back into the war.


Saturday, 29th July, 11.13am, Baumton.

Their ears were instantly assailed with sound – gunfire, the roar of tank engines, the rumble of detonations, and the screams of the dying. American self-propelled guns were lined up near the wall, their barrels raised high and sending shells tearing into the already-ruined buildings. Distantly, the black armour of Council soldiers could be seen, charging forward in wave after wave at the defences. Alfred heard the ironic thought that ‘the Battle of Stalingrad had nothing on this’.

The heroic pair, hands still clutched together, approached a military man who looked to be in charge somewhat. Alfred spoke over the noise of battle and the constantly beeping and ringing devices that surrounded the soldier.
“Where are we needed, Lt. Colonel?” he asked, the rank being picked up from a stray thought and used quickly. The military man pointed vaguely and tapped a button on one of his command units.
“We could use some help reinforcing this sector,” he said, the location appearing on Alfred’s reticule. “That’s where we need to make a breakthrough and secure the bridge.”
Alfred nodded and turned away, smiling a little at Kit. They headed off.

Arrival did not take long. Army soldiers were pinned down at one end of a long, concrete road bridge by Council troops. Corpses from both sides littered the bridge’s main span, with even dying men unable to be rescued thanks to the hell of bullets, shrapnel, and acrid smoke. Against her immediate plan, Kit took cover with Alfred behind a concrete bollard, terrified friendly soldiers all around them.

The wounded friendly soldiers on the bridge were quickly levitated by the hero back to the American-held side of the bridge and whisked away on stretchers. It was clear that the attrition from the endless Council troops would defeat Earth’s own forces almost certainly unless something was done. Alfred leaned down and kissed Kit on the cheek. She smiled back at him faintly and then stood, clearly allowing her berserker to take over.

She charged across the bridge, into the hailstorm of bullets, most of them pinging off her armour. She laughed madly even as weapons swung around to target her, and Alfred was not far behind, cloak billowing as he ran forward. He filled his lungs for a battle-cry.
“Onward to victory, Paragon City!” shouted he, and there was a cheer behind him. Bullets thudded into his bullet-proof suit, bruising him repeatedly and cracking a rib, but he ignored the impacts and continued running.

Paragon’s defending soldiers stood from their defensive huddles and began to pour across the bridge, roaring in fury and exultation as they came. Boots trampled across discarded weapons and dead bodies, shots catching many in their headlong attack. But they kept on going, charging like Greek heroes of old, blazing their way to death, glory, or whatever else awaited them in the smoke.

Monday Night

An army of 60 men and women in purple and yellow battlepaint, along with what only can be described as 10 shadowy demons, marched on Salamanca, lead by Jest er and his lieutenants. They suprised the Reqium forces by striking from the shadows, using Guerilla tactics to try and confuse the superior number of enemies.

Reqium's forces returned fire with rockets, flamethrowers and mini-gun fire. The used civilians as human shields. Many lives were lost. The town was ripped apart, buildings collapsing and civilians crushed under bricks and mortar. The fight lasted through the night and by morning the battlefield was in ruins. Unrecognisable bodies in the streets.

The Cirque pulled out, leaving several large pockets of enemy resistance but dealing a massive blow to the Council and their operations. The remaining troops regrouped and prepared themselves for another onslaught.

The call came for the strike, Jester's voice ringing inside Inago's head. He was exhausted from days of fighting and little sleep. After this battle he would get that well deserved rest. The soldier's infront of him were unsuspecting as they held their civilian hostages infront of themselves, like shields of flesh and bone. They were prepared for a strike from the sides of the town, not from within the boundaries they had set out.

Inny pushed off from the wall he leaned against, propelling himself through the air and out of the shadows that had kept him hidden. His knee collided with the head of the trooper closest to him who died almost instantaniously. The innocent he was holding onto was stunned and stood there, not moving an inch. The dead mans partner pushed his captive over and trained his minigun on Inago, who ducked just as it fired. The hot lead blasted holes in the wall that he had occupied seconds before. The frozen civilian was caught in the hail of bullets and was shredded.

Inago grimaced and angrily swept the soldiers legs out from under him before bringing his foot down hard on his chest, finishing him off. The teenager then focused on a nearby squad who were quickly engulfed by a dark cloud. Beyond that another group had overpowered one of the smaller Dark Clowns and managed to end their life. The body swiftly being teleported away by the overworked healing team. An angry Magenta steamrolled into them, exacting her revenge.

A rocket flew overhead, impacting on a chimney and sending rubble flying in all directions. The battle had only just begun and the town was already being taken apart. The fight ahead would be a messy one...

Monday Night, Paragon Dance Party

Kata left the abandoned dance club, safe in the knowledge that her captive would not escape. She herself had too many questions in her mind:

What if this one is telling the truth? What if beyond one of those portals lies a place where a woman like me can really make a difference?

Kata's armour had lost its shine, her eyes told the story of how her body really felt despite her striding pace towards Perez. She ignored the old tramp who, after being 'moved on' by Paragon's finest, had now thought it safe enough to return to his spot near the door of the club. Besides, who had the time right now to argue?

***

Perez Park

"You gotta get out of here girlie. Them Council goons is nuts!" screamed a Hellion thug as he dived for the relative safety of the Steel Canyon gate.

"Hey, you!" a nervous policeman shouted after him.

"Don't worry, officer. There are plenty of heroes back there who can arrest him if they have the time or inclination. You may not have noticed but we have a little situation here." Kata's tone was arrogant yet commanding. "And officer, may I have the use of your firearm?"

"Hey, you're that Princess lady, ain't ya?"

"I am indeed. But you can call me-" she hesitated, searching for the correct title, "-Miss Bromovich." Kata pointed to the man's rifle and looked him in the eye, "Your weapon, sir?"

It was a simple, psychological trick that she had often used as a CIA agent on drugs busts. Take command, keep eye contact and make the other person feel as if you were the only voice in the World worth listening to. She chuckled to herself: Perhaps this will turn out to be fun after all

Armed with a medium-range rifle, Kata thanked the poor man and made off for the treetops, switching on her armour's ability to store energy and propel her to the heady heights. The first group she encountered was flanked by a line of Zenith Hoverbots, their incessant beeping providing a useful distraction to the guards at the centre of the group. Taking careful aim she managed to knock three of them into each other, the resulting explosion causing a fire to spread amongst the canopy of leaves and panicking her real quarry - the human threats with guns and who knows what else.
Kata felt her mind focus into a sharp point, the way she always felt in battle, casting aside distraction and closing in on her prey. The men and, quite possibly women, inside those armoured suits were no match for her fists and the lightweight gun which she used like her old sword, swiping at vulnerable body parts.
One of the goons had a flamethrower but, with a stroke of luck, the canister of compressed gas fell to the floor as he reached for the trigger. Perhaps these minions were from a dimension where the Council wasn't quite the multi-billion dollar organisation it was here? The two soldiers who had managed to remain conscious after Kata's assault confirmed her suspicions that Requiem was not the well-resourced being everyone thought he was:

"Please! Stop! Do not kill us! We...we are not fighters. We were forced to put on these costumes and carry guns. Our families were threatened. Please! You have to believe us!"

"And why should I do that? You're wearing Council uniforms. You had those annoying robot guards with you. Tell me why I shouldn't knock you out and throw you into prison?"

The 'soldier' cowered in fear.

"Remove your helmet and drop your weapons!" Kata barked.

Overhead a group of heroes were engaged in a dogfight with two flying Mech Men. The two men took off their helmets revealing scarred faces.

"They captured our King. King Ridolfo. A man came to the villages around his castle, he looked exactly like King Ridolfo, except for his eyes."

Both men shivered and looked at their feet.

"They had weapons we had never seen before. They overpowered us, we had no chance. We only know how to fight with stones and fire. Please do not throw us in prison."

The man looked up at Kata pleadingly and touched the weals on his face. "They beat us and threw us in the castle dungeon. We were left for dead, or so it seemed. It must have been several weeks before they came and told us we were going to fight for them against a great evil."

He stopped for a moment looking sadly at his hands. "Our people are proud and some of the men could not bear to help these creatures so they...they took their own lives."

The man who was speaking began to cry, sobbing tears of desperation. His friend comforted him. So that explained why one woman without superpowers could outwit a group of Council soldiers. Kata looked at the fallen men around her.

"Are they your friends?" Her tone was soft now, comforting and coaxing.

The comforting man nodded, apparently unable to speak. His charge continued to sob a little quieter. Why can't this be simple? She thought.

"I can help you. I am Kata Bromovich. Here in this city I am a hero. We are fighting a war against Requiem, the man who looks like your King. We were not aware of your involvement in this. I apologise for attacking you but-"

"It is all right, Lady Kata." The previously silent man's voice was strong, despite the circumstances. He attempted a smile but the scars on his face proved too painful.

"In times of war many things are done that we may later regret. But from warrior to warrior, we must not let that get in the way of the thing we have to do."

Kata sighed, partly out of relief and partly out of pity for these poor men. She remembered the stories of the Soviet work camps and how she had felt ashamed when she learned about the attrocities that were committed there. But the strong man before her, who continued to comfort his friend, was right: Now was not the time to think and be melancholy.

"I would like to escort you to the relative safety of the city. I am not a lone hero here. I have friends who will be able to take care of you and, hopefully, when this is over, we will be able to return you home safely." Kata smiled and the two men responded as she hoped they would.

"Come, this way, I can carry one of you down at a time."

"But our friends, our compatriots!" The crying man was obviously close to all of them.

"Do not worry about that. I have some friends here right now who will gladly pick them up. Come."

And with that Kata led her two charges down from the treetops and back through Steel Canyon to Galaxy City.

***

On the long train journey back she found out that the crying man was called Vincent and his strong friend went by the name of Paulo. She explained a little about Paragon City and pointed out the various statues and city sights as they passed them. Then when they alighted at Galaxy City, Kata led them to the Freedom Corps building and asked them to wait in the foyer.

"Miss Bromovich, so nice to see you again. It has been far too long." Susan Davies had been Kata's first contact in the city, at the beginning of her so far surprising and illustrious career as a hero.

"I have a favour to ask. Would you care to put up the two gentlemen waiting in the foyer? They are a little confused at the moment. I found them in Perez."

"How is it going, the battle?"

"Oh, so you are aware?" Kata was genuinely surprised although she felt foolish when Susan replied.

"A little, magical birdy by the name of Azuria got the message out. Apparently it's not just you she's been teleporting all over the city. Rumour has it that the Phalanx are preparing a counter-strike. E.L.I.T.E.'s switchboard has been overrun with telephone calls from operatives across the globe. Emails, faxes, even a telegram from Siberia. We haven't seen anything like this since-"

"The Rikti Invasion, I know."

"If you need to make it back to Minsk, you only need say the word." Susan studied her old student's face carefully, noticing the tired eyes and the odd fleck of blood on her shoulder-plate.

"No, I am needed here. Spetznatz and Red Force are more-than-equipped to deal with the likes of Requiem's forces."

Susan nodded. "Well, where are these fine gentlemen?"

"This way Susan. And, don't be alarmed by their clothes. They are dimensional refugees."

The two women walked with purpose to the foyer and Kata was glad of another non-meta to talk to. Normality could be sought in the most unlikely of places, or so it seemed.

***

Perez Park

An incredibly large robot stomped its way through the trees followed by an insanely happy (in his own way) alien engineer, carrying an arguably unhinged Russian I.T. expert in his arms.

"Kata!" yelled Gregor above the roar of the mechanical beast. "Good news. We've cleared Bettis Hills for now. We received some interesting looks from a group of heroes but Zoullar here flashed them his Hero I.D. and they joined up with us!"

"Have you had cause to activate the energy barrier yet?" Kata replied, straining to get her voice above the noise.

"No, thank goodness. No falling buildings just yet. My word, this hero-ing business is fun! Perhaps I should give up the day job and don a spandex jumpsuit?!" Gregor laughed like a bear. Zoullar grimaced which made Kata giggle.

"You're doing fine Gregor. Just don't let your head inflate any more, eh?" Kata grinned.

"So, why did you call us?" Gregor asked.

"I need you to deliver some refugees to Freedom Corps in Galaxy City." Before she received a thorough grilling, which she was too tired for, Kata added, "It's a long story, Gregor."

"Well, where are they Princess?"

"I was hoping Zoullar could locate them. Zoullar! Can you trace a mental image?"

I think so, although it's not the easiest task. I'd probably mess it up anyway. Kata explained, via her thoughts, that she had encountered the group of soldiers by the Steel Canyon gate.

They will most likely be scarred underneath their headgear. Oh and Zoullar?

Yes Kata?

I have every faith in you. Now go find them and take them to Freedom Corps. Ask for Susan Davies. She'll know what to do.

Thank you, Kata.

And with that, engineer, giant robot and computer expert stomped off in the rough direction of Steel Canyon.

Kata sighed. Now she'd have to go back to the dance club and see if she could get any more information out of her captive.

Sleep? It was for the weak... there wasn't enough time for Inago to rest now. Molok was dead... another friend gone. Reqium's soldiers would suffer. Inny stepped out through the hazard gate as gunfire and explosions echoed through the sunken valleys. No fear... His exhaustion was still there but he forced it to the back of his mind and pushed on, making sure his metal gauntlets were fixed in place and wouldn't slip off mid battle. He would now hunt and kill all the enemies he could find.

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

Inago barreled straight into a large squad. They didn't have time to shoot him as he darted around, hitting each of them in a seemingly random sequence. His usual grace had now vanished. He pummeled with his legs instead of carefully timing and placing his blows. This was his downfall as a group of Vampyri joined the fray. They saw error in his movement and eventually managed to overpower the weakened hero. They pushed him to the ground, his life was now forfeit...

Inago accepted his fate. He closed his eyes and prepared for it all to end. But even this cruel death at the hands of genetically altered freaks was stolen from him. Sounds of scuffle and then the screeching pain of men being pulled and thrown in all directions... then silence... moments passed and then the sound of small footsteps approaching, a giggle and then a familiar voice "Little brother! Why are you sleeping on a battlefield? They are for fighting!" Inago opened his eyes slowly to see the outline of a face. Frolic had come to his rescue.

Tuesday

Inago returned from the battle in Salamanca in a sorry state. He slept all day until about 8pm. He ate and relaxed for a while before heading to GG. It was there that he heard of Moloks death from Minako and others. He was so angry at the loss of another friend that he headed straight to the Hollows where Mol died. There he almost got himself killed through recklessness. Thankfully he was rescued by Frolic who slapped some sense into him (in her usual perculiar way) and dragged him back to the Cirque base so he could rest.

Althia was draughted into the Peacebringer army and sent to fight on Peregrine Island. Her friends Winter Heart and Minako were worried by this. She was accompanied by Grav Mistress who was also on her way to join the battle.

Rachis woke up and fought in the Hollows. He then went to Pocket D where he got drunk, helped Winter Heart steel her ring of gravity (along with others) and then he went back to fighting. He loves a good fight (especially when drunk).

Finally, Steel Guard watched over Subaiku still after breaking her out of hospital the other night. She is still in her healing trance.

Tuesday, 2200 hours

As Ellie left Jess and Sam behind, her heart turned cold as she turned her thoughts to Molok, dead at the hands of the council. They were going to pay for this!

Ignoring the slow train, she approached the tunnel in the war wall and dived through, the glow from her body lighting the way. Following the twists and turns at high speed, she burst into Atlas Park and hurtled across the sky like a comet. Seconds later she landed at the crowded entrance to Eastgate, the Hollows, were Molok had fallen. Moving quickly past the gathered crowd of tired soldiers and battle weary heroes, she pushed past those crowding the gates and entered the zone.

As she got clear of the entrance, she quickly took stock of the nearby situation and headed over to a tall woman who was giving orders to a group of heroes. Moving quicky to her, she interrupted the woman and asked her if she knew the location of Molok's last stand.

The woman faltered a moment as she saw the bright glare of power in Ellie's eyes, then decided now wasn't a good time to berate her for the interruption. Sighing, she checked through her clipboard and gave Ellie the information she needed; The Gulch.

With barely a word of thanks, energy wrapped itself around Ellie and she rocketed into the sky.

Seconds later, she halted in the air high above The Gulch and scanned the area with all her senses. It was thick with council troops and equipment, and here and there, the body of a once proud hero lay broken. Finally, she found him; his large form lay still on the ground, partially buried under a mound of rubble and not far from a group of soldiers and mechmen.

Ignoring the soldiers, who seemed more interested in laughing merrily about their seeming victory, Ellie dropped from the sky and alighted softly next to his still form. Crouching, she placed a gentle hand on his once proud brow and traced a finger along one of his horns, broken now. Softly, she spoke to him, "Oh Molok... You always liked taking on more than you could handle... Look what you've done to yourself..."

Behind her, unheard or just ignored, the laughing soldiers had stopped as they noticed her brightly glowing form. One of them, an Archon by the markings on his uniform, picked up a glowing red rifle and slowly approached Ellie, his troops right behind him.

Ellie let them approach to within 10 feet of her before she spoke, softly, "Are you the ones who did this?" Rising slowly from her crouch, she turned to face the soldiers.

"That cow thing? Yeah, good work eh? Planning to have us a barbecue later, right boys?" The soldiers behind the Archon laughed, confident in their ability to beat such a small hero.

Ellie smiled, and slowly, her energy claws extended from their sheaths as several pulsating balls of light formed around her, "No, I don't think you will be..."


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


As the last of the troops fell, her claws sliding out from his abdomen, Ellie turned and walk back to Molok. Withdrawing her claws, she crouched and lifted his great form. "I'm taking you home old friend, back to your family..."

Gently, Ellie rose into the air with the body of her friend in her arms, and flew slowly back to the gate.

Wednessday, 0542 hours

Ellie sat by the aid station at the Atlas Park gate in Eastgate, a mug of tea cradled in her hands. As she stared into the steaming beverage, the memories of the nights events flickered through her mind.

The fight to recover Molok's body and the flight back to the lab, giving him over to CIRCE. Returning to the Gulch again and again to recover the body of every fallen hero there. The argument with Lt Wincott over her wasting time and power on the dead. Well, screw him; the dead don't deserve to be left out there! Besides, she'd done more than her fair share of fighting this night. Every body she'd recovered, she'd had to fight for... And sometimes, she'd had to....

No, don't think about that... Start down that line of thought and you'll be useless to everybody...

Sighing, she sipped her drink, feeling the hot sweet liquid seeping into her oh so tired body; it's sweetness helping to restore her. As she sat, sipping, one of the paramedics came over to her and crouched down.

"You OK there, kid?" he asked.

Ellie looked up at him and managed a wry smile, "Don't I look it?"

The paramedic pursed him lips for a moment, looking her over, before replying. "No.. You look knackered... You really should get some rest."

Ellie looked back into her tea before taking another sip and replying, "I am resting, see? Sitting down, having a cuppa... I'll be fine."

"Look... Tiger White isn't it? Some of my colleagues told me what you've been doing all night... Bringing in the poor souls who didn't make it. You should be proud of that, but it's a soul destroying job. You need to stop while there's still some of you left that cares..."

Ellie looked into the paramedic's eyes, her own glowing with a cold light. "Someone has to do it, they can't be just... left behind..."

"Then let someone else take over for awhile, yeah? Otherwise you're gonna end up leaving yourself out in the battlefield next time you bring another one back..."

Ellie looks at the paramedic for awhile, before setting her now empty cup down and painfully climbing to her feet, a small wound now visible on her side where her armour had been breached, blood slowly oozing out as her movement opened it up again. "No... No one else wants to do this..."

Seeing the wound, the paramedics eyes widened a little, "You supers... You're all the same, thinking you're so invulnerable, when you're just as at risk as the rest of us... More so in fact. Come on, lets get that cut sorted out."

As he finished speaking, the paramadic bent down and picked Ellie up. Surprised at how little she weighed, he carried her into the aid station, ignoring her protests.

Tuesday

Solar slowly walked up to the statue. That gas hadnt mixed with him very well. Infact this whole war hadnt mixed very well, it all seemed to be too well thought out for him. And he didnt like it.

As he sat down he noticed that something was wrong with the general feel about the statue. It almost felt hollow for some reason. After a while of sitting down catching his breath, he decided to go over to the Hollows. Maybe he could do more good there rather than choke on toxic gas, get lost in the blazing forest (what was left of it), or get chased and/or killed by some lethal soldiers.

Maybe there might even be a little less soldiers there...

Wednesday

Limping round the corner he sat down at the end of the dead-end alley way. 'Well' Solar thought 'atleast I know ive done my part'. Thinking back over the last few days it had all been like trying to climb a sheer cliff with only your finger tips. The start of the invasion, the battle in Perez, the wandering around Perez, the fighting the patrols in the Hollows.

The slow clink of the boots as they walked down the first part of the alley way. Thinking back over the news of the death of his friend Solar frowned. It felt strange, he'd never thought of any of his friends being able to die. They always seemed so capable.

As the shadows stretched over the mouth of the corner Solar remembered the first war by the rikti. They had first come and tried to take the Sun, trying to gain a foothold. Well they managed it, fortunately the sun was too hard work to actually use as a base for them to be efficient. The flashes of the massacre were slowly coming back. As he sat there he started to sliently weep, for the dead of this world, for the dead of his world, and for the many more that would have to suffer at the hands fo these soldiers.

And thats how the council soldiers found him, just sitting and weeping. And thats how he stayed as the bullets ripped through his body. As he slipped down onto the floor his thoughts were only of his friends and how he hoped they would fare in this war.

Posted for, and on behalf of, Zortel!

Skyway City, Wednesday 00:01, Decommissioned ZorTel Industries Warehouse 5B.

Bootmode - Remote...
Mothersystem Valkyrie Online. Boot Successful.
Access Code Upload - 8919RolandoZ
Access Code Confirmed: Z. Rolando
Operational Mode: Awaken AMAZON units.
...
AMAZON units online. Running POST 1-100.
...
Units 1-100 confirmed operational.
...
Offensive Mode Set: +kamd
WARNING: Mode +k set, confirm y/n?
Y
Authorisation Code: ZTx689alpha
Authorization confirmed. Mode +k set.
...
Defensive Mode Set: +ep
Assigning Patrol Locations: Patrol Size = 10.
...
Running POST 101-130.
...
Units 101-130 confirmed operational.
Defensive Mode Set: +pr
Assigning Defensive Post Locations: Guard Size = 5.

Uploading Target Data: Offensive - . . .
Target Data: CreQinv06.dat Uploaded
Uploading Target Data: Defensive - . . .
Target Data: CivOutline06.dat Uploaded
Target Data: CityHero0806.dat Uploaded
Target Data: EmServ06.dat Uploaded

Operational Mode: Run. . .

WARNING: Check all settings confirmed.
Y
WARNING: Delay 20 seconds: Hanger Door Opening.

Mode: Run Successful. Carrying Out Orders.
Logging Mode: Set

The rumble of steel grating echoed about the room as the shutters rolled up. Streetlight from outside dimly illuminated the contents of the hanger. Standing stock still in rows of 10 were women in black suits. Different ethnicities, builds and ages, the youngest in her early twenties, the eldest late fourties. The haunting thing was their expressions, stoic and unwavering even in the face of the event data that had been uploaded to their brains. Crafted on technology similarly based to mad creator Nemesis' automatons, the gynoids had once been guards at ZorTel Industries sites.

And now, from orders issued from above, started to march forwards out of where they had slumbered. Given purpose once more, they would carry out the orders of their creator, to aid in the defense of the city, to provide cover for escaping civilians and emergency services, and bolster the forces of heroes in the city. They may not have been human, but that was more of a boon than a flaw in this time. They didn't feel sorrow, anguish, despair or any of the other emotions that could marr or drive a person to incredible feats. They just did their job with a passive look.

The first patrol of Reqiuems forces fell, the ten strong patrol unleashing a hail of bullets onto the invaders. Some of the Council forces were killed, but this was war. Programming dictated that they were enemies, killing heroes and civilians alike in their masters name. Programming told them an eye for an eye. Programming also reasoned that adding strain to the staff at the prison in this dire time would be counter-productive.

...

Zorielle watched through the monitors. Her family was safe on the island she had purchased, but her friends were not. One had already fallen, and others were still in the city risking life and limb. She gnawed at one knuckle as she monitored her creations moving into position. She had escaped Paragon a month ago, wanted a safe place for her babies and all her family to grow up, a place for family friends to come and relax from the strain of heroic life.

She shut her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of the previous invasion out of her head. Some days that time four years ago seemed so far from her mind. And days like today, she could smell the burning rubble, the charred flesh, and the tang of blood on her lips. That invasion cost her so much... could she risk that again? Or risk any of her family taking that cost?

The gynoids that she had ordered to assist just didn't feel enough. It felt like she had put a penny in the hat of a begging child and walked on. Mere lip service, casting away something that had no importance or worth to herself. But she also remembered the guilt when she sent her own daughter, and two of her most advanced and stunning creations ever into the city to secure the portals to the island and help out a little. That heavy feeling that pounded through her chest, the fluttering of her stomach.

What was a women to do? Zorielle didn't know, weighing up the pros and cons in her mind as she sipped at her now lukewarm cup of tea. She started a little as she felt two arms slip around her waist, then relaxed into them as she breathed in the smell of a familar perfume, one that was a christmas present. The soft touch of hair against the side of her face comforted her.

"Come to bed love... you'll just worry yourself sick staring at the screen."

Sometimes it felt very good to have someone else make decisions for you.

Location: Khan Tengri, also known as the Lord of the Spirits
Time: 2.8.2006 (Coile's 20th birthday incidentally), 5 pm local time, 8 am Paragon City time

The cold and dry air prickled his lungs in an awfully familiar way. Karakara base camp was far behind him and the majestic mass of Khan Tengri, the Lord of the Spirits loomed ahead. Coile closed his eyes. Tattoos made by Subaiku had faded out already but the terror brought by the pretender Azure Sting stayed away. In his mind's eye he saw the blue flower that he had planted in Steel Canyon university park. Inhaling the mountain air he could still feel the flower's simple fragrance caressing his senses. He felt serene.

The weather was excellent this time. Due to time difference and one of the fastest jets he had ever flown it was just a few hours past noon. There was barely a whisper of the wind and the sky was crystal clear. The Lord of the Spirits was favouring him. He muttered a humble prayer to the mountain. Then he broke gravity's hold of him and started to glide along the ground's forms upwards. There was was still journey to be made.

The siege of Paragon City had receded from his mind. There was a plan in motion that would try to pinpoint Requiem's location in some universe or the other. Coile was somewhat unclear about the details but understood that it was time to take the fight finally to him. Unless someone used a shortcut. The crackling quantum rifle strapped to his back was a constant reminder of what he was up against.

Still there was no turning back. When Requiem had contacted him he had known exactly which strings to pull. "I have what you love, lust, covet.", he had said. Nadia. Sword of Truth. Alive? Captive? "You can have her back. There is a way to survive what is to come." Coile knew what that meant. Betraying the Rebirth Alliance. Sabotaging their operations. Helping Requiem to achieve his goal.

That was what had been discussed with Hana Li. There was only a small chance that Requiem would keep any promise that he made. And if there was a world for afterwards he knew that Nadia would never want to live in it. At best he would get to be with his love in a world which she hated, and in which she hated him for his part. There was no way that he would be a party to treason. He would play the part long enough to free Sword if he had to but actually moving against his allies was something he could not see himself doing.

It all could be faked, too. He had only the man's own testimony of being the madman who was out to destroy the world. Even that was based on an assumption, based only on a name. The proof of Sword being alive was equally flimsy. Just a scream over the connection. So easily faked that Coile thought even he could have done that. None of that mattered. It could be a trap. It could be a plan to get him to switch sides. He did not care. There was the most fleeting chance of regaining what he cherished the most in his life. Nadia Forester. The Sword of Truth. How could he let it pass?

Requiem had promised there would be a contact upon his return to Khan Tengri. He had wanted to go there according to the original plan but no word of it had come. The war had thrown all schedules up in the air and eventually it had come down to a solo mission. No doubt people would have volunteered to come with him. Some had, in fact. But the more he thought about the situation the more he was certain that this was now between him and the villain. Others could have possibly just faced their instant deaths. Requiem had gone to some trouble to ensure Coile coming to see him so there would be no immediate risk to life.

The big weapon that he was carrying with him had the theoretical chance of killing his target. There were no illusions about his ability to effectively operate a large scale assault weapon. There was besides no chance that he could get a line of sight with it. Requiem was not a stupid man. Only arrogant and clinically insane. Arrogance was what Coile hoped would be his ace in the hole. While the big gun was a decoy the smaller pistol stripped to bare bones and mounted on his wrist was not. Concealed under his bulky winterwear it went largely undetected.

He wasn't that good with most things. That had been painfully clear to him for years and only been reinforced after he had come of age and left the farm on a more regular basis. Arriving to Paragon City had just underlined it all. Everyone else was more accomplished and had better resources. There was only one thing that he knew how to do - take aim and blast. The moves and energy regulation had been imprinted onto him by years of daily practice under the watchful eye of their mother, the ND-unit. He was confident that if it came down to taking a shot he would make it. The damage output was a cause for worry but he had thought of that too. The wrist pistol had been modified in a way that allowed him to take the full advantage of his natural abilities. Of his full abilities. He shuddered at the prospect but reminded himself that it was Nadia who was at stake. No sacrifice too high.

Coile cleared a wedge in the mountainside and the vastness of the eastern face stretched before him. This is where it had happened. Where he had lost her. Where he had lost himself. The echoes of despair, fear and terror nagged at him but the magics Subaiku had weaved on him held fast. He did not crack up. He took the full brunt of his darkest moments and only winced. His core had been put back together. For a price, of course. Nothing came free, especially no good thing. The unexpected effects were at work beneath the surface.

The altitudemeter had brought him almost directly to his target. There was a high, black pole erected into the snow. A marker. With an ominous gut feeling he drifted towards it. When he came closer he saw something on top of it. He glided up to gaze into the clear display case. A pair of sunglasses. He could not breath. The nagging voice warning about fakes and forgeries faded into oblivion. This was an unnecessary detail in a ruse. This was genuine. Nadia's glasses. They had at least her body but at that point he stopped doubting the premise. Requiem held her. Alive. Alive.

She was alive.

There was an arrow attached to the pole beneath the display case, pointing upslope. He looked into that direction but saw nothing. He could have continued the journey presently but at the end he would need his strength so a resting period made sense. He would have to be on the top of his game, for Nadia. He floated down and fixed a small meal.

He had left a message behind. He hoped it would be delivered according to his instructions. It was a warning. If he had been contacted by Requiem in order to get him to compromise the fight there was no guarantees that others were not also. There could have been multiple contacts. There could be moles active right now. With dread he remembered what Kitmarch had told of Coila. She had resurfaced after a long absence and started asking questions about how far the Flecthed Alliance would go for Tempest. Kitmarch had mentioned a vendetta to avenge Sword. Sword who had the same day been revealed to be still alive. Too big a coincidence to be just that.

With a sigh he drove the more distant worries out of his mind. There was a task for which he needed his full concentration. He packed his gear neatly and prepared for the ascent. The quantum weapon's incessant noise made sure he stayed aware of the huge danger he was in.

There were no distractions between him and the cave.

The cave was cut through the ice and stone. There had been no reports about it during the search so it had to be relatively new. Made just for him he realized. This would be a classical example of a boobie-trap as Xan would put it. But he had known it all along. Ever since the certainty of Nadia's demise had been lifted there had been no actual choice for him. That he had ended up here alone and without backup was more a fling of luck than a part of the plan but standing there by the three meter high entrance he he knew this was as it was supposed to be.

With determination he walked into the cave, and into the darkness.

Message from Steel Guard - Regarding Coile

The monorail rumbled quietly out of Talos Airport. The magnetic sled that bore the dozen or so passengers hummed it’s own little tune, accompanying the sounds of suspension as the vehicle made it’s way into the tunnels that penetrated the city’s warwalls.

Paul stood facing the window, blackness staring back at him, carrying his reflection in a surprisingly favourable light. He looked down at the hispanic woman who sat to his left, a toddler perched burbling and happy on her lap. She returned the glance and smiled.

“He’ll be three next week.”

“Sorry, Miss?”

She nodded at the child she held. “He’ll be three. Say...that’s a funny accent you got there. You on holiday in Paragon?”

“No, Miss. Wish I was. Strictly a business trip. Flew in from London this morning.”

“Now that’s a shame. This city’s a sight to behold. If you get the chance, I’d advise the Airship Skytours.”

“Thanks, Miss.”

The car hovered clear of the tunnel. Paul smiled as sunlight bathed his face. Gingerly he ran his hand over his face, finding the latest scar in his collection running over his right eye. He had been lucky to keep the eye. Gritting his teeth he leaned on the backrest of the seat in front of the mother. He looked down over the rolling streets below, thinking about his briefing the night before. His attention fell upon the strangely garbed figures that pointed at the car. One, following his colleagues directions, rose something thickly cylindrical onto his shoulder...

“EVERYBODY GET DOWN!”

The impact shook the car, destroying the track in front. Luckily the destruction also stopped power feeding into the car, stopping it dead. Paul looked around the car. “Everyone okay?” He pulled his jacket off, laying it over an elderly gentleman who sat shaking.

“You’re gonna be fine, mate. Listen! I need everyone to stay calm!”

The attackers fired grapples onto the wrecked line, pulling themselves up in twos. Paul cursed loudly before kicking the window out that overlooked the rocket launcher’s position. Pulling himself onto the roof he grabbed one of the ascending figures and pulled him up sharply, kneeing him in the face. The blow knocked out any chance the figure had of retaliating, Instead he hung limply on his line. Paul took hold of the line and rappelled downwards. Gunshots bounced around him, sending metal sparks skyward. A few feet from the ground he let go, landing with a crouch.

The rocket launcher raised his weapon again, this time aiming it at Paul. The rocket burst free from the weapon, hurtling towards the sprinting Paul. He ducked and rolled, looking back as the rocket hit a parked car, sending the vehicle upwards in a frighteningly erratic spin. Before it hit the street again, Paul reached the rocket launcher. Bringing his head up under the masked chin, he punched him hard in the throat crushing his windpipe. The launcher dropped to his knees, dead. His companions sprayed machine gun fire in his direction. Paul grabbed the dead man using him as a shield as he charged the remaining attackers. Throwing the corpse at them they were toppled over and pinned by the sudden weight. Paul kicked one in the face, chopping the other to the throat.

A gunshot rang out from behind him. He turned and looked in horror as the climber he’d forgotten about tried to shoot the monorail passengers.

“Son of a...”

He pulled a rifle from one of the figures grip. Turned, dropped to one knee. Took aim and fired.

The last of the attackers fell from the car, landing on the street with a sickening crunch.

Paul turned his attention to the two men at his feet. The insignia on their uniforms was dangerously familiar.

Requiem!

Sirens approached fast. Paul pulled a small communications device from his trouser pocket.

“Bravo One to Sabre control. Bravo One to Sabre control. Come in control.”

“Control receiving Bravo One. What is your status?”

“Have reached destination. Contact has already been made with enemy. Proceeding to rendezvous point. Over.”

“Message understood. Good hunting, Bravo One.”

Friday 28th July - Manhattan, New York City

When I am not with you, my dreams are so very dark.


A sudden bright flash startled Pyranha. Despite the curtains being drawn shut the room was still clearly illuminated with hard white light, exposing every last cruddy detail of it. Then just as suddenly as it had appeared it died away, leaving her in darkness and blinking out phantom-images. She was lying on the floor of her motelroom in Upper West Side and had quite literally just been staring at the ceiling. She had wanted to think and the distinct smell of her mattress had been too distracting. In the faint phantom images she could almost see the faces of Kyo and Claire, looking at her, needing her, pleading at her to stay. Then the sound hit her a second or two later, the deafening boom of an explosion. She could feel the tremors travelling through her room as if the very ground beneath her was shaking.

Confused more than scared she got up, forcing thoughts of the past couple of weeks to the back of her mind. From her window she could only see the brick wall of the next building, but the lighting was all wrong. Too red, too dark. The street was far noisier than before, car horns honking constantly and people shouting. From further away she could hear the familiar sounds of fire, explosions and gunfire. Cold dread was spreading in the pit of her stomach, even if she had no idea what was going on.

This was New York! Here, there were supposed to be sirens and police cars speeding to one crime location or another. Ambulances, yes. Cars with black windows escorted by other big black cars. A gun fired in the seedier neighborhoods, definitely. But explosions? Big earth-shaking explosions, with heavy suffocating masses of smoke billowing down the streets and the high-pitched screams of large crowds of people thrown into panic and confusion. No, that was something that happened in Paragon City.

Pyranha gripped the windowsill, her knuckles white. She was going to see Broadway this evening. She was going to get drunk, have fun. She was not supposed to see this. She had been trying to leave that part of her life behind, how could it be right here, outside her window? She wanted time alone, away from all her problems. And now her nightmares were being manifested in flesh. In scared, needing flesh looking for a savior.

Even without her powers she was still a hero. Pyranha hastily gathered her few belongings, stuffed them into her bag and slung it on her back. She briefly wished she had brought her leather hero-outfit with her after all, as it offered a tiny bit more protection than the jeans and tank top she was wearing now. But it was no point worrying about that now. She would have to make do with what she had, as little as that was.

Pyranha headed out in the streets with a determined step. Everywhere people were running and screaming in panic. It was overwhelming. People pushing past each other, shoving each other out of the way carelessly, not caring if others fell or not, and trampling over those who had fallen. An elderly man leaning against a lamppost, clutching his chest and crying. A young couple, their face bloodied and hair matted with black dust. A mother, carrying two children and shouting after a third one. A man pulling his gun and waving it around randomly, some people dodging out of the way, others swarming over him in sudden bloodlust. Pyranha felt sick.

All these people, desperate to get away as fast as possible, abandoning all care and hope for civilized ways or compassion to their fellow humans. Not all, Pyranha reminded herself. There were those who were helping as well. Someone found the third child and brought him to his mother. Others were shouting orders, trying to direct people through more efficiently. The traffic had jammed solid and many of the cars were just abandoned in the middle of the street, others were trying to manouver between them, ignoring all traffic rules. People spilled between the cars, adding to the general confusion.

Now she could see that towards Central Park, just a few blocks away the buildings were on fire and black aircrafts hovered around them. She could hear sirens too, even if from the sounds of it, they were mostly stationary. Pyranha could not imagine what was going on. A terrorist attack? After living in Paragon City she had forgotten about all the more mundane terrorists and the real world politics. But this was no terrorist attack. This was war. There were too many aircrafts, and too few defenders. Where were the police? The military? US National Guard? Heroes? If they were not here, it meant they were fighting somewhere else.

It did not matter, though. Whatever their name was, whatever propaganda they followed, they were still evil men trying to kill innocents. Her job as a hero was to stop them. She clenched her jaw and started to move towards the sounds of fighting. It was not easy. Every other person wanted to go just the opposite direction, flooding towards Broadway and away from Central Park and they all seemed to take personal offense to her wishing to go against the flow. Pyranha really wished she could fly right now. She was pressed against the wall, shoved, shouted at and in few occasions struck at.

Finally the throng thinned out and she could move more freely. She moved only slightly faster now, her fear of what was ahead of her and doubts of her own capabilities hindering her. She moved from cover to cover and was now unable to stop the thoughts returning to her. Kyo, Claire. The two most important people in her life. She had left them, unable to cope with the reality of who they really were and what they were capable of. There was nothing she would not have done for them, and both of them in their own way had made sure she indeed did everything. Everything. The guilt and regret clenched her chest again. And now she had left them.

The street was clear of fleeing people now, just sounds of battle ahead and chaos and screaming behind her. Further down the road a nervous looking duo of policemen were standing on the sidewalk, uncertain which way to go. Pyranha waved at them in friendly fashion as she was passing, one defender of justice to another. "Hey, girl! Don't go down there!" ne of them yelled, and ran after her. Pyranha stopped and looked at them with an expression she hoped was calm. "It's okay. I know what I'm doing." Saying that made her realise all the more strongly that she really had no idea what she was doing. Without her powers she was just another shortie teenager girl. "Look, I'm from Paragon City," she continued and found her hero ID card. The policeman looked absurdly relieved. "Oh, that's great news. We need your kind here! I don't know what the hell is going on, just got called on-duty and it's World War Three out here! You think it's the Rikti again?" Pyranha shrugged and shook her head.

The fire and battle was close. Pyranha could almost feel the heat and movement of fire in the air. The two police trailed after her, their chattering more confident now. Pyranha herself felt less and less confident with every step. If it WAS the Rikti, what was she supposed to do? She was not the one leading fights against invaders from another dimensions. Not even with her powers. Even with her powers she failed. Why did she have so much trouble accepting what Kyo did? Claire had no trouble with that. Pyranha frowned and pressed on.

Out of nowhere a black aircraft came swooping along the street, its machinegun firing in a deadly staccato rhythm. Pyranha dived for cover instinctively, as did the policemen. The aircraft was gone in the blink of an eye but there was still time for Pyranha to notice the markings on it. Council insignia. Stunned, she just stared at the empty street until the cries of a man woke her out of it.

The younger of the two police had been hit across his upper abdomen and shoulder. The bullets had torn his uniform and flesh into a mangled mess of blood, fabric and flesh. Pyranha felt sick just looking at it. Zan had made her do some first aid courses and in theory she knew what to do, but no class could prepare her for a sight like this. Reluctantly she crept close. The other policeman did not seem too confidant either, his hands were shaking and he had the blank look on his face Pyranha recognized from many of the victims she had saved. Shock, disbelief at what was happening around him. However, he did try to stop the bleeding and together with Pyranha they did what they could.

It was not enough. Pyranha could tell. There was too much blood, and he was not breathing properly. They would have to get him to a hospital, but how could they do it? There was no way an ambulance could reach them and get back to the hospital in time, even if one was available. She stared at his face desperately. He was so young, so pale and so very dying. Pyranha swallowed, trying to find the words to console him. Nothing came.

Another round of bullets ricocheted from the building nearby. Reflexively Pyranha threw up her arm in a futile gesture, yet no fiery explosions flew forth, nothing even warmed around her fingers. Panicking, she dived down for another way of fighting. The policeman's gun was unfamiliar to her, but in the end one pistol is pretty much like another.

Five council soldiers were approaching. Overconfident, their machine guns held high as they waded closer through the labyrinth of abandoned cars. They had not yet noticed Pyranha and the police officers, or at least she hoped so. With her gun in one sweaty hand, Pyranha ducked behind the nearest car. She clicked the safety off and took aim. There was not much time and no room for error. All thoughts of morals and ethics had fled her mind. Now there was just time for determined concentration to a task at hand.

She fired her pistol. Over and over, until the clip clicked empty. A few meters from her the older policeman was doing the same. The Council troops had been taken by surprise and had vanished from view, either hit or having dived for cover. Pyranha bit her lip nervously. Her gun was empty and she could not say where the soldiers were. The police made obscure hand gestures at her, possibly telling her to stay put while he was going to investigate. Pyranha shook her gun at him, and surprisingly enough he seemed to understand it was empty, as he tossed another clip at her.

The officer crawled forward, disappearing from Pyranha's sight. Nervously she tried to figure out how to reload. More gunfire, and to Pyranha's relief it was the sound of pistol, not the harsh chatter of a council rifle. A man shouted in pain. Soldier or the policeman, she could not tell. She hesitated and hastily reloaded her gun after finally figuring it out. She needed to go see what was happening herself.

As she turned around corner of a car, she came face to face with one live soldier. She froze, time seeming to stop. He was on his hands and knees, black visor cracked and his face faintly visible under it. For what seemed like an eternity they were just staring at each others. He had come to kill her, Pyranha knew that. Still she could not bring herself to hate him. She was scared and she was angry, but this man in front of her, it was just one man. His hand was bleeding, and Pyranha thought he also looked afraid.

Then he made a motion to grab his rifle and Pyranha lifted hers as if in slow motion. He shouted something but it was drowned out in the roar of her pistol. The man stared at her amazed and stunned as the bullet ricochetted harmlessly off the car. Pyranha was staring at him equally amazed. She had meant to shoot him, she really had. But then something in his face reminded her that he too could be someone's son, he might be someone's loved one. And she had missed her shot. The man blinked, finally realising he was still alive, still holding his weapon. Without hesitation he brought up his gun and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

Pyranha was not sure if she felt regret or relief just before her mind went numb. Probably relief. Or regret.

Requiem Update: Part One 5/8/06

War.
War never changes.
The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth.
Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory.
Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower.
The Rikti laid waste to Paragon City in an attempt to seize the flesh they needed to rebuild themselves.
But war never changes.

In the Heroic Century, wars are still fought over the resources that can be acquired. Supervillains take the place of nations, squabbling over materiel, personnel, and territory.

The supervillain Requiem is the lastest in the line of villains who have sent their legions to wrack Paragon City and other cities of North America. In his case, of course, territory and resources are just one of his goals, and so he has unleashed the sword of his armies against his enemies.

A sword which has rapidly been blunted.

While his feints towards other cities have held up resources from being poured against him in Paragon, the residents of that city have fought like tigers, all too aware of the costs of war from the coming of the Rikti, all too aware of the sacrifices that must be made, and the gains that come from such sacrifice.

Over the last few days, even Requiem's seemingly inexhaustible forces have begun to waver under continued assault, as strike teams of dedicated heroes *and* mundane personnel have lashed out against the portals that supply them with further men and materiel.

Eden is now home once again only to the Devouring Earth.
Dark Astoria has been cleansed of robotic legions.
The Terra Volta Reactor is secure once more, keeping the inner city safe from the fighting.
Faultline's dam no longer threatens to flood the city under a wall of water.
Croatoa's fields no longer house black-painted Council aircraft.

These are the gains, but oh, the sacrifice.

Perez Park aflame, casting black smoke into the sky.
Swathes of the town of Salamanca in rubble.
Dark Astoria choked with drifts of clockwork parts.
Eden a pit of toxic chemicals and screaming plant-beasts.
All across the city, hospitals choked with wounded.
All across the city, the taint of cordite on the air.

War.
War never changes.

The battle had not gone well.

And the winner of the Understatement of the year award goes to the Clockworks of Dark Astoria!

Clockwork after clockwork fell to the rattling machinegun fire of the council, the shots raging through their small metallic bodies as more and more collapsed in to a dis-functioning mess. The more complex forms from off world held up as well as the few survivors of the Astoria strike force against Striga isle. The robots, androids, droids, drones and any other form of mechanical life form was destroyed against the onslaught, and the two big guns from the Vindicators and Phalanx left in order to take care of their business with their groups.

Things were getting desperate.

”FOR THE KING!” Shouted a clockwork as he ran at the council mechman before getting blown away by a thick energy blast.

”You will be destroyed!” A booming voice came out across Astoria as the reason their attack had been so effective reared up again. A giant monster of a mech, something with Buckholder has been working on personally. The experimental giant that many had thwarted in Striga time and time again, but now it looks as if their attempts to stop this creature were for nothing. Requiem gave him power; Requiem gave him time and resources to build this monster, and no one would survive if the Clockworks didn’t take him down and take him down now.

Unfortunately, that’s what they have been trying to do for three days.

As more Mechmen and Clockworks poured out of their respective portals the fighting intensified. Paladins were cut down in seconds, Babbage wouldn’t stand much chance but he managed to get one or two hits in before being brought down to earth. Scrap piled up as more and more clocks threw themselves at the mechmen.

”Retreat! PULL BACK! PULL BACK TO THE HALLS!” Off world Knight Rusty-Bandage shouted, waving them over to the entrance to Lyn’s old base, now the Halls of Moth Cemetery, the Halls of King Cogs the first. What Clockworks chose to heed his words ran, and even those who did were cut down as they sprinted, dived, ducked, bobbed, weaved and generally scrabbled for the huge rusted doors.

Monoreceptor, the intellectual Clockwork jumped over the bodies of a Sprocket before ducking under a red blast before joining up with Scraps the Knight as the pair ran for the entrance.

”This seems to be quite the predicament, wouldn’t you say?” He asked Scraps before he jumped up and fired off an energy balst in to the following Mechs, a system stolen from the very people they were fighting I’m sure. “I even lost my notebook somewhere out there!”

”You find it later! Me sure!” Scraps called, throwing back a few Taser darts to the fray, hoping to slow his pursuers down.

”I hope so; one would scarcely like to think of what was made of it out there.” The matte grey Clock replied.

Cog-Girl, a sprokette unit (named after their Queen), also joined the running. Notable for being Pink as she was made out of a student’s VW Beetle she stood out against the grey background more than the bronze and rusty-red men and as such she had a hard time escaping the blasts. She flipped and jumped and dived and made her way, slashing as a Mechman with a retractable sword on her arm before continuing her elegant and graceful flips, though something caught her lone view finder, Clocks running…

The wrong way.

They weren’t falling back like the rest of the armies, they were continuing forward towards the foes they had been told to escape, and the fact they had no heads on. She soon found out why.

With desperation, comes desperation, nothing good can be brought out from being pushed to your limits. The mother of invention had arrived and it had facilitated this need.

The Headless clocks ran up towards the Mechmen, using sensors and secondary visual processors to make sure they didn’t hit anything before they reached their targets. The Mechmen paused and laughed at their little counterparts.

”HA! How do they intend to fight with no heads?” One asked as a malice filled clawed hand reached down and lifted up the Sprocket that had rushed to him. His Red eyes pondered for a moment before realising that their usual empty cavity on these cheep little Clocks had wasn’t so empty. It had a small brown packet in wired like there was no tomorrow. It seemed rather soft to the touch.

He read it.

C4.

Explosions rang out as the Clockwork Suicide bombers exploded in a rush forward hoping to set themselves in to the minds of their enemy. Shrapnel was thrown everywhere, Zenith bots now had bits of Clockworks imbedded in to their armour, some had entire limbs in them, arms sticking out of their heads and twisted legs protruding out of damaged arms.

Necessity can be a bad mother.

As three of the battle Clocks reached the Halls, the entrance hall was filled with Clockworks removing their heads and being wired up with bombs, their heads were so in the hopes that a little of them could survive to get a new body after all this had happened.

Someone once asked why they defended Dark Astoria, it had no people; it was nothing more than a waste, a dead land that had no purpose. The fact of the matter is that they fought for it because it was their home, they were safe there. They enjoyed it there, no one came to bother them, no one wished to.

They had Freedom, and they would fight for that with their lives.

Big Ben ran towards the door, one of two survivors to the original Babbage Team, his light shields and superior armour protecting him from the blasts, though not enough. The giant Warcry fired again, blasting Ben in the back and throwing him forward, forcing the Duke to hit the ground and slide a little, stopping short just of the door. As the last Suicide bomber ran out with the last block of C4 they could spare, the clockwork teams grabbed the leader of the Babbage Units and was dragged in, allowing two more to come in also; Lightning MKII, Babbage’s arm and Tick-Tock the Soul surviving prince of Cogs the First and next in line for the throne.

Teams worked together to close the four foot thick doors on their enemies, a few blasts making their way in as the last of the explosions rang out. Tick-tock sat next to Big Ben with a sad posture, both were dented.

”Me thought me was stealthy enough.” He simply stated, before his optics dimmed. Functional, barely if at all. Tick-tock was too small to move such a giant as Big Ben, so he patted his shoulder and ran off to the Throne room, a huge hall that encompassed the seats of the King and Queen, where all the armies now stood anxiously. An army of thousands reduced in a few days to an army of no more than two hundred, Clockwork and Misc robots.

”FORM RANKS!” Scraps called to the survivors and new Clockworks. “We have to defend the halls!” The clockworks stumbled a little but formed ranks while the other Robots did so as best they could. “Get ready!” He shouted again. The huge doors to the entrance hall crashed a little, as heavy blasts continued to hit them harder and harder, but they did not budge, they didn’t break, they didn’t move.

Silence followed. An apprehensive air filled the halls as all the Clockworks ranging from the ranks in the halls to the expectant sprokettes lining up to leave earth for another world through the portal. After so many explosions, crashes and general booms and bangs hearing silence was strange. The Scientists in the Halls of the Grave-diggers whirred as they tilted their heads up.

”Are we…” One asked.

”Don’t say it.” Another replied.

The silence didn’t stay for long though as soon the blasts returned, but his time it wasn’t on the gate, as the entire halls shook. Stayed on but dirt fell from the ceiling. They were using Mortars! They were trying to burry them!

Cogs won’t stand for that…


Lost was her name, and lost seemed to be what she was.

Once again, or rather for the first time, we have joined the enigmatic, rather schizophrenic woman with Dissociative identity disorder. Standing in at 5ft tall she ran down the street, avoiding those who would do her harm and those who could catch her and made a route to the nearest base of operations.

For those of you who don’t know her, Lost is a Vahzilok or rather was. Dressed up in the classic black that the more advanced creations wore she was cast out of the order due to the fact she inadvertently irradiated the soup and a large chunk of the reapers became very sick. So when the reapers and the others left without her, Lost became just that. Unable to cope without being given orders, it was theorised that the more dominant ‘Found’ personality came in to being.

She gave Lost a tough streak and allowed her to survive on the streets without being abused, using her powers where and when she needed to. Though Found seemed to be tougher, Lost always kept her reigned in to prevent her attacking the general populous or holding up a restaurant for food. Eventually Found got her chance to be nasty and took revenge on a Vahzilok Reaper and Cadaver. When this was seen by a Hero, he approached her and Lost took over. Taking her to Freedom Court, she was thus absolved from blame of her kind being a lowly chef and given a heroes licence and a bed in a nearby apartment building. Greeted in to the community with little trust she was surprised when heroes of the GG statue welcomed her and thus did her best to do the job that was asked of her, Found becoming more than apparent every so often.

But now she needed to go back to her roots. She needed to return to the world in which bore her in to this life. Opening the sewer cover she jumped in, her light frame worming it’s way around the entrances and covers that lay before her. Soon she was back in Vahzilok territory.

Back ‘home’.

”Come, we must hurry! The carnage up top is giving us an opotunity we can not help but collect upon! Free corpses for the taking!” Dr Vahzilok, now a monstrous being in a bio-mechanical suit much like his monsters the Abominations, ordered. His huge hand thrust out demanding things to be done as Reapers and Mortificator closed up around Cadavers and Eidolons of both genders. The destruction had served him well, the more that died the more that would soon join his army and then he could take over Paragon for himself and preach his teaching to the rest of Rhode Isle, then the entire United States and perhaps… perhaps the world?

“Father….” He said lightly to himself. “You’d be proud of me.”

Vahzilok’s quiet contemplation and nostalgia was washed away as a sudden yell was heard from behind him, added to a heat and glow familiar to most as a radiation blast. “DOCTORS! WE’RE UNDER….” He didn’t finish his sentence as he turned around and saw an Eidolon behind him. “…. Why the hell have you betrayed your creator?”

”Well Sugar! I ain’t sure you’re gonna be likin’ the answer.” Found spoke, her voice solid and strong as she walked with intention and meaning, what hips the small black clad Gestalt had swaying with each step. Found walked up a little more and stopped, resting a hand on her hip standing in a bold and open pose. “I’m here to talk some sense in to ya”

A hail of vomit, crossbow bolts, dark energy and Radiation streaked across to the short Eidolon, a literal rain of shots. She let out and eep of surprise before running, though she didn’t run forward or backwards, she just ran around in circles for a moment.

”Cease fire!” The doctor shouted, the arms of the many men and women there lowered.

Standing amongst a graveyard of bolts, scorch marks, vomit puddles and so on, was Lost. There she stood on one foot gracefully balanced without a scratch on her. Not even a sick stain.

”Prepare to fire.” Vahzilok said somewhat surprised none of their attacks worked.

”WAIT! I-I CAME TO TALK!” She shouted, her voice having returned to Lost. The large arm of the Doctor came down, lowing the arms of his subordinates. “I.. Well I would like you to come and fight the council with me.”

Laughter came rolling through the crowd from anything with a conscious mind. Lost returned her foot to the ground and relaxed a little, somewhat embarrassed. She placed one hand in another behind her back and stood in a timid pose, knees slightly bent inwards.

”Talk.”

”Well… er… Yeah, you got to help.”

Round of laughter take two.

”Help? Why should we help?” He asked in a definitive term.

”Well… Well if you don’t Council will take over!” Lost shouted, or at least attempted. This wasn’t too well received as you can tell.

”The heroes have a tendancy to win out in these situations, as such they will win and then I’ll use my army of Council and Hero made creations to go fourth and rule.” Vahzilok shrugged half-heartedly, his eyes somewhat languid and bored. He once more raised his hand.

”HEY! I just went Super-speed on your rear Doc!” Found shouted. “You’re just wastin’ ammo! Let her finish!” Again, the hand lowers and Lost spoke up. “Well what if they loose?”

”Hm?”

”What if the heroes loose? What if you walk out of here and you find there are council insignia all over? How do you plan to take care of a city of council rather than a city of heroes? Plus what if they come after you?”

”Hm…”

”If you fight or at least lend me your forces I’ll let you find my super speed trick.” Lost coerced.

”Hmm?”

Lets see if she can ‘suade him to join the Rebirth alliance.

Here’s hoping.

((This is how DA is cleared out, please be paitient for posts!))

Perez Park, Sunday 6th August - 0200 hours

Well, no more dopplegangers or unwilling soldiers to fight, Kata mused to herself.

All around her the trees were ablaze: Some heroes were valiantly trying to put out the flames but to Kata they all looked alike: Just another mask and cape.

Her thoughts turned to the men she had rescued who were currently recovering back at Freedom Corps. At the rate the battle was going here they wouldn't be seeing home for months. The robot warrior she had helped to create wasn't doing the damage she thought it would. In fact some of the newer heroes to the city, rushing to the front line, often attempted to derail it thinking it was just another Council weapon. But, it had protected a lot of people from harm and that was no small feat. Plus Zoullar and Gregor seemed happy enough...

Kata breathed in the air, thick with oil smoke and the tiniest tang of blood. She looked at the scene again as if standing outside of time and let her shoulders drop. It could be such a depressing place to live, Paragon City - who was she kidding? This World is a depressing place in which to live.
So, that was her mind made up. She'd travel but not necessarily in the way she had intended. The doubts she had expressed at that first, great meeting in Space, aboard Victoria Station seemed laughable now: How she felt her skills would be more beneficial to remain 'earth-bound'. Ha!

Kata let her head turn away from the pointless violence, removed as she was from it all now her mind had been fully made up. Her body followed and she walked, dream-like, back to Steel Canyon and to the woman who would be her ticket to a thousand worlds.

***

Steel Canyon, 0215 hours

"I'm back."

Kata faced herself, looking at the woman she might have been.

"Well, you've certainly got more of a knack with clothing than me." She smiled, noticing how the Council uniform had been stripped of its emblems and how the woman had tied her hair back, the way she used to wear it.

"Are you sure?" Kata still couldn't get over hearing her own voice like that. She nodded in response and picked up a backpack stuffed with provisions and the like. The other woman did the same.

They walked through the streets of Steel Canyon together, never looking back at the conspicuous building they had both been effectively living in for the past week. Kata noticed a litter bin on the pavement and, with little thought for consequence, dropped her star-shaped communicator in it. If she was going to start a new life then she had better do it now.

***

Peregrine Island, 0300 hours

The dream continued - everywhere was chaotic and Peacebringers flew overhead, carrying odd bits of machinery and, on a few occasions, people.
The two women walked through the chaos as if they were taking a gentle Sunday stroll which, depending on your perspective, they were. Kata and her companion stopped outside of the Portal Corps building.

"This is the place? Inside here?"

The woman shook her head.

"Not inside but round the back of the complex. We came in here and were moved to the reactor, where you found us. I cannot believe I am about to do this." The woman was nervous, almost excited by the prospect of what they were about to do.

Without further conversation they made their way behind the complex. These were not the portals Kata had seen in footage of the Rikti Invasion - to her they looked like rips in the air; colours danced around the edges and made her eyes water when she found herself staring at them for too long.

They exchanged glances and lowered their heads, not wishing to look directly into the light that streamed out of the portal. Kata felt warmth and then a chill colder than a Siberian winter. Her brain felt twisted and she thought she could hear voices all around her, nothing familiar although... past conversations, banal and inconsequential, came to her. Here, in this void of time and space, she could understand things a little better and her memories flooded back - all of them.

She saw her companion as a ghost-like creature, shimmering beside her. They reached out to grab each other's hand and Kata risked looking back - nothing. Just light. The woman's lips moved as if speaking but it seemed that this was a purely mental realm where physical action had little meaning. Kata lost herself in the light and willed her body onwards to its destination.

***

Steel Canyon, 0309 hours

A star-shaped transmitter bursts into life. To the passer-by a static sound is heard but if anyone was to put their hand in the bin, lift it out and put it to their ear, they would hear everything that had ever been through the mind of Katarin-Marie Bromovich: All the lies and deceptions, half-truths and cover-ups - and all the goodness that was in her; all the things she ever wanted to achieve for the betterment of herself and others.

But no-one is there to listen. At 0900 hours, Katarin-Marie Bromovich will be pronounced MIA. Perhaps a service will be held in her honour, but that was never her style. So ends another life in The War Against Requiem.

Faultline

...

> qd3

Quick Diagnostics:

Neural Net Core Status: Active. 92% efficiency. Damaged Core Media Routed Around. Summary - Motorollin'
Power Core: Active. K-Flux core containment 76% efficiency, within useage limits. Summary - Still Bustin'
Sensors: Active. Efficiency 68%. Sensorium Impaired but functional. Summary - Flying Blind on a Rocket Cycle.
Weapon systems: Offline. Summary - What are you going to do, talk to them sternly?
Structural Integrity: 34%. Massive pseudomyomer and pseudoskeletal damage. Summary - Thats going to sting in the morning.
Motivational Efficiency: 12%. Summary - Goin' nowhere fast.

System Status: Your health insurance just expired. Phone tech support. Failing that, two weeks in the bahamas.


....

Sylpheed struggled to make her abused shell respond to command as she lay on the control deck of the Requiem machine, a huge multi-limbed spiderlike creation that was crawling across the distorted terrain of faultline. The moment the machine had warped in, it had been evident it was going to be a tough nut to crack. It's external shields were enough to deflect the attacks of the below-strength force arrayed against it. So she had taken matters into her own hands, and had gone for the access hatch. The damage she had taken on the way in was severe enough, but having forced the hatch, she had fallen foul of internal defenses, which had caused the rest of the damage. The situation looked grim. Auto-repair was off-line, as were her weapons. There was nothing to be done.

Nothing but invoke Plan B.


>planb
System Uplink to Shell 002 Active...
Core State Data Copied.
Real-time Update Active.
K-Flux Core Set to mode Omega. Buildup Complete in 15 seconds.
"I told you I was ill."


Nina gazed up at the roof of the space within the machine, quiet, serene, yet feeling the bleak chill she had come to explain as fear. As the 15 seconds ticked by, she reflected that regardless of whether her AI was actually alive or not, she certainly felt real enough, which was probably what counted. Life, or a reasonable simulacrum thereof. And here she was, giving what bit of it she had to end a threat to the zone, and help save the world.


Buildup Complete. Are You Ready?
> Into the valley of death rode the six-hundred.
K-Flux core interlocks decoupled. Have a nice afterlife.


Nina Silversmith, Sylpheed, smiled.

The spider-machine evaporated in a shattering energy blast. Threat to Faultline Over.


...


In a room, in Galaxy city, a purple-haired figure lying on a bench surrounded by blinkenlights opened her eyes, a smile playing about her lips. Then she screamed.

Location: Khan Tengri, an abandoned council base
Time: 2.8.2006, 9 pm local time, high noon Paragon City time

The tunnel was long and wide not unlike one that trains used passing through hills. Faint light shone down from longlife lamps hammered into the ceiling and the feel of the place was both old and new. Some cuts were fresh but the blast doors at the end of the tunnel had gone rusty with age. They had not been in use in years except that right now they had been pushed ajar. The temperature was still freezing but the air was still. Coile lowered his hood and without hesitation walked through the uninviting doorway.

The cavern seemed huge to him. There were still bases of walls left with the modules gone. Lone pipe brackets hung on the walls bare and useless. There had been an organized facility in here, now abandoned. A council base stripped down and evacuated. The cavern itself was brightly lit by lamps standing on posts and the air vibrated with the whirr of the generator powering them. In front of him two squads of council troops were waiting for him. Coile felt sudden dread. One man against two dozen highly trained soldiers. As he was personally invited these men receiving him would not be simple tossers. They were each and everyone bound to be a top trained combatant. His bold and rash plan felt suddenly as inadequate as it in truth was.

Coile approached the group unsurely but not having it in him to stop either. When he came closer a man spoke out. "You're expected." The man had signs sewed onto his clothing. Requiem's trooper. The other sign was something that Steel Guard had once called an archon. Coile didn't know if it was a rank, definition of status or description of the man's capabilities. The archon waved Coile to move forward without paying any attention to the quantum weapon strapped onto Coile's back. This added to his sense of premature defeat. His best chance wasn't even worth a glance to them.

Some distance away were black curtains draped from posts to form a separate space. That was the direction the archon had indicated. Coile slipped between two curtains and entered a small space about five meters per side. There was not much light from the outside but the illumination was not lacking nonetheless. A man-sized black crystal was emanating devilish purple light. There was also a screen on a stand showing static and nothing else. He opened his mouth to call out his host showing bravery and bravado but words refused to form. After an awkward silence he just uttered, "I am here."

His waiting was cut short by an entrance of a council man. This man was not wearing a helmet nor was he seemingly armed. He was almost as nervous as Coile and despite the subzero temperature was sporting a thin film of sweat on his face. He walked directly to the crystal and placed his hands on its surface. Then he recoiled his mouth opening into a voiceless scream. He spasmed like being electrocuted by a cannon prince and shook violently. Then he stood straight and turned his pits of purple energy for the eyes on his guest. Coile felt his heart sink. He was in the presence or Requiem.

The man whose eyes were leaking purple dark energy streams spoke. "Coile, of the Silent Tempest. It is well you have come. The weapons you have brought are puissant against my kind." He kept a small pause to enhance the impact. "But not puissant enough. If you have come to fight, let us be to it. If you have come to learn what you can gain, let us talk."

Coile had known his plan had its weak points but Requiem referring to multiple weapons made it clear that his every move had been anticipated and nullified even before he made them. All that he had left was the desire that had driven him back to Lord of the Spirits on a fool's quest.

Mustering some mysterious reserves of a man obsessed he forced himself to stand up for his cause. "Is she alive? Show me." If he could just retain an upper hand, show them all who was the boss. Keep them off-balance, gain what he had come here for. Keep the appearance of having aces up his sleeve, opposition guessing about his real might. The pools of purple evil bore into him, shrinking him inside. Quietly he added to his bolsterous demand. "Please."

"I speak for Lord Requiem, and He is not without mercy. Watch, and learn." Without making any sort of gesture the screen flickered to life. Distantly Coile understood that once lured to here he was no longer worth the attention of the main villain himself. A lackey had been assigned to tend to him. All that evaporated as the picture commanded his complete attention.

There was a cell and in the middle of it a medical gurney. On the bed was truly her. Sword of Truth. Coile would have let out a squeak but his shock held him immobile and silent. She had not perished in the avalanche. By some means she had fallen into the hands of their deadliest adversary yet. Suddenly there was light in his life again. He did not notice that he was holding his breath nor that his eyes were watering up. Slowly he lifted his hand towards the screen.

There were tubes going into her feeding her some blue liquid. A helmet covered her head and temples. Her eyes were closed and she did not move. Coile's hand never touched the screen itself. Solitary words broke from his lips. "Sword. Can. I." He swallowed hard. "Can I meet her?" His host explained the situation. "She is not held on this earth. We are not so foolish, else your eager seeking telepaths and searchbots would have discovered her. If you make the right decisions, you will be reunited with her."

The last remnants of his ill prepared plans dwindled into nothingness. He could not just grab her and shoot their way out and make a daring escape into the freedom that was the open sky. If only he could get to her. Maybe there would be a way, even on some other Earth. He did not speak to the man but to the screen. "I want to see her in person. Take me to her."

Requiem's lackey was more than oblidging. "Certainly. All you must do to achieve that is agree to merge with one of my kind." This took the young hero completely off-guard. The sentence was valid by grammar but made no sense at all. "What? Become a nictus?" The sheer absurdity of the proposal was fully evident in the astounding disbelief of his voice. The man who remained nameless merely nodded.

"Blend with one. It is the only way we could trust you enough to allow you to see her before our deal is completed. Of course, there are other options available to you." Coile listened obediently. He was shaking under his tumultuous feelings. "You may conclude that your loved one", the councilman injected the last two words with a certain degree of mockery, "is not held by us, that this is all a fake. You may choose to believe that, but-", he held a dramatic pause to let the next scene to sink in with theintended intensity, "you would be responsible for cutting off her chance." He motioned to the screen.

A black-robed figure moved towards the unconscious Nadia holding a tool that spew ominous sparks. The tool went closer and closer stopping just shy of touching the collarbone. The councilman finished making his bargain. "You see, we are not unreasonable. You wish her to live, we wish for things. We can trade."

Fear was wrecking havoc with Coile and he managed only to acknowledge the fact that he had heard the man with a slight movement of his head. His mouth was terribly dry. His companion wasted no time in pressing his horrific point in. "Do we have to make clear the consquences of disobedience, or do you get the idea?" On screen the tool seemed to move ever closer even if it was impossible to be sure. Finally finding his voice again Coile rasped hoarsely. "I will do as you ask." He did not himself know whether or not he meant what he said.

He had had a resolve when he set out on this journey. He knew he would not follow through with any request that jeopardized the goal of his comrades-in-arms. It was paramount that Requiem was stopped. Enough heroes had laid down their lives in the line of duty and he had also risked his existence daily combating the vicious assault on his adopted hometown. Still at that exact moment all that he was aware of was the love of his life being under the knife. His predicament went unnoticed or at least unmarked by his captor.

"Excellent." On the screen the threatening tool was withdrawn. "Now, you are not a total idiot, so perhaps you have told others of your trip here? Even of your contact with us?" Avoiding eye contact only enhanced his apparent guilt. "What if I have?" Requiem's servant was not fazed by this prospect even if Coile had been forbidden to share any knowledge of the contact on the bane of his and Nadia's immediate death. It had in fact been anticipated. "Why, then your service to us will be somewhat more complex since we will have to ensure that you serve us adequatly while avoiding suspicion."

Grasping at intangible wisps for hopes Coile tried to avoid his situation deteriorating into a complete disaster. "You hold her. You can't have a better hold. I would do anything for her." He weighted his words and felt the taint of dishonesty. His hope was that the man did not see through his lies. "I wasn't going to. But, seeing her - there." Coile added a swallow which was not hard at all. His eyes kept returning to the screen.

"Yes. We are all slaves to the things that we love, aren't we? Even we of the Nictus. You know, thanks to your oh-so-sadly-deceased former advisor, of the most epic of Lord Requiem's true schemes. We are not unreasonable. You and she may survive the apocalypse, just as we Nicti will. All that you must do is serve us." This was it. One of the questions that had been burning in Coile's mind. "How? Everything will be destroyed. How can you survive that?"

It felt like there was a mesmerizing echo in the man's voice, or maybe it was purely imagined. Be that as it may it was having a disorienting effect. "Everything will be consumed by Lord Requiem into the Gestalt, and we will be reborn in the new universe. You can share this bounty, just as we who serve him will." There was a meaningful look. "If you are not foolish." The anguish was constricting him terribly. He looked at the screen. Nadia. So helpless. Sentenced to death if he did not co-operate. His own resolve concerning betrayal. Aloud he whispered. "Maybe she will forgive me."

His features were a showcase of a man broken. He had brought up from the pits of his memory the assault Azure Sting had visited on him. Despite Subaiku's sorcery he still could vividly recall the exact feeling of his core torn to pieces. He was still hanging onto thin threads of integrity and feigning loyal obedience. It came easier by the minute, slipping into the role, buying into the hype. In a hollow voice he inquired. "What do you want me to do?"

"Three things. You will gain for us the location of the three beacons that your friends have set, so that we may destroy them. You will place a device we shall give you into the Portal Corporation offices. And you will return to us for your Rebirth."

It was no small task that was imposed to him. Gradually it dawned to Coile what he was asked to do. No small time espionage that he could accomplish badly or other minor misdeeds that would eventually blow over. Full scale sabotage of resistance efforts and treason against the hero kind. He had not thought clearly about this before and now it was too late. Of course his lot would be something he could not go through with. How could he? Nadia on the screen. So close.

"I want to see her. In person. I want to touch her. Feel her. Then I'll believe. Then I'm yours." A ruse to get to the place where she was held? A ploy to heroically spring her out of captivity to together wage battle against insurmountable enemy forces and rush to freedom? Or a beginning of a fall of a man crushed by his overwhelming desires, the insane need to be with the person he had fallen in love with. The distinct lines were on a precipice of blurring.

"You know our condition if you wish to see her, Coile of the Tempest." The man stepped aside leaving a path open to the crystal. There was no goading in his voice nor posture. The offer was a genuine one. The crystal continued spewing out its magenta brand of darkness. It was so close. Just a step and a touch. Coile stretched his hands. To see Nadia. To touch her, know that she was real. The loneliness of past weeks was hammering at him. The void within was screaming to be filled. It would be so easy. Yet he did not take the necessary step. Yet. "Would she be a nictus too?"

"We would make the offer, in exchange for your aid." As if it would make them benefactors of the highest order the man added, "We usually take. Here, we invite. Be blessed in such mercy from Lord Requiem." Coile's mind was ablaze. All contingencies were evaluated. Sword would never take such an offer. Never. But was that the only way? Coile heard his voice speak out words of madness. "Is it-", he began. "Does it have to be voluntary?" There was pride in the man's tone. "No, it does not. Revel in your opportunity."

The Nicti lived long. To be with her an eternity. Hands were still poised on the crystal. Just a step and a touch. Forever. Was that not how long a love was always sworn to last? To be a living embodiment of dedication an loyalty. "No. Not like this." He lowered his hands and looked away brushing the corner of his eye with his shoulder feeling surprisingly ashamed of a few tears. He would just have to play it out, try not to commit to too many actions he would not be able to atone for later. "Just get me the device."

"The Archon outside will give it to you, Coile of the Tempest, together with a drug which you must take. It will bury this from your conscious memory, otherwise your telepathic comrades will stop you in your tasks - though I caution you to complete them swiftly, and not to contact any other, for in that way lies your safety. And so the safety of your love."

Whatever little control over the situation he had hoped to retain was receding fast from his grasp. What if they had not thought out their plan completely? "How do I know what to do, if I don't remember?" There was a condescending tone as if an architect was forced to explain to the hammer why it needed to hit the nails. "Given that the process does not involve blowing things up, you are unlikely to understand it. Suffice to say that your subconscious will move you through your motions while your consciousness creates the rationales."

Desperation for a way out was burning him inside. Prove them wrong. Catch them on a lie. "One thing. Why would you keep your promise?" The possessed council man stood by the screen. "Perhaps we would not. We can offer no guarantee you would accept. You must ask yourself, is the chance she is alive, and the chance she will be returned to you, worth what you do? If not.. then she will be as dead as if you had killed her, in your own mind."

No way out. No chance to turn the tables. What had he been thinking coming here alone? That he had a chance? That he could somehow outwit a lunatic who had thousands upon thousands of men under his command? All of his circling thoughts were coming to the same point. Defeated. "And what if I say no, now?" Maybe he could just back out. The reply was pragmatic. "Then she will die, and we will try to kill you."

Coile remembered a fantasy of his where he shot Requiem point blank in the chest ending his threat, released Nadia from captivity and handed her the sword he had brought along. Together they fought their way out of a tight situation as they had so many times before and returned to their life as it had been. He stood disillusioned now. "With those soldiers out there you would succeed."

The game was up. The only thing he could do was just delay. "What is happening to her now? What is that blue stuff?" Requiem's servant accepted the stalling as they were holding all the cards. "It keeps her docile, and the rest of the apparatus is to keep her from being located by mystics, or telepathy, or such."

Unable to draw his eyes from his dark-skinned goddess the young man was succumbing to absurdities. If he could not be with Nadia free then maybe in imprisonment. He swallowed hard and presented his latest request. "Could I join her in there? As a captive?" That would give their enemies even more leverage but he hoped no one would be stupid enough to let two lives affect the fate of the world. Unfortunately he was not the only one to arrive such a conclusion. "There is no gain in that for us." He feebly tried still. "A hostage? There are others still."

The bargain time was over. There would be no deals except those that Requiem had laid on the table. Enhanced with the assessment of his insignificance. "We do not fear what you may do, Coile of the Tempest. Some explosions more or less will not affect your world's opposition to Lord Requiem's plans, and your tactical brilliance is nonexistent. The others are unlikely to participate. No, Coile, will you serve, or merge, or die?"

Chewing his lip he raced through the options. Serve he could not. He would have given his own life instantly to save Nadia but he just could not bring himself to betray his allies. His love was not strong enough, after all. Merging with a nictus would not be as direct a way to let his comrades down. But a merged Nadia would not be the woman that he cared for. It never occurred toi him to ask how a nictus would have affected him. Two options eliminated. He knew that his own suggestion had been turned down. He did not repeat it because he hoped that the second time it would be accepted but because he could not speak aloud just the one thing left.

"Your options are keeping me a hostage, or killing me. I - I can't do it. I won't. I would lose her."There. It was said. The certainty of death left him empty. No daring charge at the enemy forces got him killed in the end. He ended up negotiating his death sentence, haggling and bargaining until it was the only way to proceed. What remained was to execute the common resolution. "That is a brave decision, Coile of the Tempest."

The peaceful feeling in the screen was shattered by two council soldiers stepping into the view. They were holding assault rifles each pointing at the dormant Sword of Truth. Knowing was one thing, seeing first hand was an entirely other thing. "So, Hero Coile, the choice you have made for her. You may step back from the brink even now, or you may simply say 'I will not do it' and what will follow will follow, as surely as if you pulled the trigger yourself. Choose."

The choice of words would be irrelevant. Unless he yielded he might as well give the order to shoot himself. Doubts and fears were ripping him apart from the inside. Coile had heard of people who were so dedicated to their code of honour that they could sacrifice anything or anyone for that. He did not see himself capable of doing so. But the truth remained that he did not do anything to stop them. "Life for your love - or painful death." The man with glowing eyes cocked his head as if he was asking about if there were any requests about the dinner.

Numbness was forming a ball inside. It pushed the emotional turmoil towards the surface with unrelenting vengeance making Coile's cheeks wet with tears he did not notice. His voice was low and soft because a louder expression would have broken before the end. He could not believe he had the strenght to make the decision on his own so he reasoned it through the one he had failed to ptotect or save. "She has way more integrity than me. She would never submit to it. She would die first. I know it. She - she is my everything. I serve my goddess. When all is lost faith is everything that offers salvation. Faith in yourself if you're strong, or else faith in a god, even of your own making. It was done.

"No, Hero Coile, one way or another you will serve our God." There was a hissing noise from behind Coile and a dart punched through the thick fabric of his clothing. It happened so fast. There was no fight to the death, there was only death. Darkness rushed at him and he began to fall. From somewhere a universe away he heard two bursts of automatic weapons and his sense of drama added a female scream.

He had failed in every account. He had gone down without any kind of fight, without inflicting any damage to the enemy. His actions had driven Sword of Truth to death and his fool's quest had cost him his own life. Stangely it was something he did not regret. His last thought was "I turned twenty today." and then he ceased.

Eastgate Park, 'The Hollows'. Saturday Night.

An abstract ideal given form and life can be a terrifying thing, as one of Requiem's platoons had found out. They had been perched on top of the hill overlooking the Red River, at one of the old look out spots. The 50 cent telescope still stood there, as did picnic tables and bins. The troops had amused themselves with sniping at anything that wasn't of their own alliegence. Until the earth behind then cracked and split open, and crawling out of the jagged maw was a massive suit of archaic, black armour inscribed with glowing runes. Fire flickered out from the edges of its joints, and a huge war axe was belted over its shoulders.

The troops started to fire at it, the bullets merely pinging off the armour, seemingly undisturbed by the attack. "I am a WEAPON. JUSTICE, VENGENCE and RETRIBUTION. These are my ASPECTS." a hollow, rumbling voice bellowed from inside the helmet, two firey eyes blazing. "I am the WEAPON, WARFORGE... and your SOULS BURN with the MARK of GUILT. You are GUILTY." the golem proclaimed, its axe rattling and trying to get free as it spoke those words. "There is only ONE for of RETRIBUTION for your CRIMES, your SINS. DEATH is the CLEANSER of all SOULS." it handed down sentance, the axe flying off its back and spinning into its hands. "I, WARFORGE, will FREE you of your GUILT, your SINS. You will be WELCOMED to OBLIVION."

And with that, the judge, jury and executioner stepped into battle, its axe swinging and cleaving through the air aflame with spiritual fire. One by one the ten guilty men fell, the axe passing harmlessly through them, the fire igniting the guilt residing in their souls. With one final swing, the butt of its axe crashed into the communications radio they had been using, the channels still open at the time.

"A touch melodramatic, hmmmmmmmmmrr?" a voice said from on top of one of the picnic benches, coming from a black cat busy grooming itself.
"I will instil FEAR into their HEARTS. To crush their MORALE with DESPAIR." Warforge replied, sheathing its axe on its back again.
"If you insist..." the cat replied, lifting up one of her back legs and starting to lick at it. "I think you should pet me, I'll enjoy that." she purred after grooming. Warforge moved over to the picnic table and knelt down, running one of its fingers over the cats back.

Cogs would not take the punishment the Council were giving no longer.

Mortars continued to fall and crash at the entrance to the base and on the graveyard above with some painful repercussions. The walls shook as dust, rubble and more fell. A metallic slab came down and damaged several cogs while a rock fell from the ceiling and collided with a Paladin, bowling him over before he crashed to the floor, narrowly missing Commander Beet.

Ulfsark looked up for a moment, the police robot hearing a cracking from above as another Mortar crashed above.

”MOVE!” He shouted, a moment too late as another boulder came down, landing hard and destroying the head of the Police Droid, forcing the blue and white ‘Honorary Clockwork’ do fall.

Rusty ran over to try and help out, but when he got there he had found something he didn’t expect. Ulfarks brain was actually part organic, and with the helmet smashed it bled out to the ground bellow. Cogs ran over and stared at his friend, the same friend who had helped defend him from Major Stone of the PPD and his black suited comrades. The brain suddenly turned grey, before disintegrating in a mass of metallic clicks, the grey over coating falling the retreating back in to the downed body. Nano-tech was amazing, but so terribly sad; another life that was lost to Requiem.

A scream was heard out back as some of the expectant mothers trying to get off world ran and even dived out the way as a huge slab of metal came crashing down across the portal, shutting it off mid-transfer. Soldiers ran over to tend to the wounded, mothers with no spouses being helped by friends like they should. Cogs made his way back over to the portal he built, there was no way he could repair it, not in time.

Another scream was heard, this time in the generator room as a sharp rock slashed down and collided with the Psyconics generator he and Sockette built in what seemed like an eternity ago. The generator spluttered for a moment before collapsing completely shutting down, dropping all the Clocks who were bound to it. Cog-girl, Scraps, Monoreceptor, Lightning, everyone who required it to power them.


Except Cogs however; if he didn’t reach out and grab Lyn’s mind, which was tired but conscious, he too would have fallen.

”Without the portal we can’t get back!” One offworlder called.

”How will we recharge?! Without the generator we can’t….” Another started.

”ENOUGH!” Cogs Bellowed, jumping up and taking his place at the edge of his throne. “The emergency rations will go to mothers as priority! Teams will work on generator, then gate. Boris the Computer has all information you need.” He paused and looked over the fear filled faces of his followers, his people. He was the one who brought them here to win a war for the humans. He could have gone off world and survived or joined the Council, but instead he joined the side of the humans. He just hopes his people will be looked after when he’s gone.

”Is there no way to get out apart from the doors?” A mother enquired.

”The entrances to the Labs of Temporis were sealed.” Gustaf spoke, one arm missing and the other holding his head. This was one council who didn’t like to see his fellows.

”Send a detail down there and try to open it up. If you get it open, make sure you can seal it afterwards so you can lock it as you go.” Cogs spoke before jumping down. Gustaf, a Jumpbot and a few other Clocks rushed with him.

He had a plan, though it was somewhat risky for him. He continued to calm people down before calling Rusty-Bandage over. “What I ask of you now will like madness, and I need this done so plan can succeed. If you wish, you say no.”

”My king…” He started. “I would go to the ends of the furnace Sir, for the clockworks I would go in to the very fires of the Forge.”

Moments later, the gates opened. Mechmen stood outside; their guns trained on the door while teams worked with mortars, shelling the stronghold until it was no more than a pile of corpse ridden dust. The command to prepare weapons came as the Mechmen raised their arms to fire.

A white flag.

”HOLD!” Shouted the lead Warcry as Rusty game out, waving it still. He paused, waved it a little more, and then placed it on his back in a space just on the Backpack energy pack he wore. “SPEAK YOUR SURRENDER TOY!” He shouted, his voice amplified so he could lead.

”You killed our king!” He yelled back. “We don’t want to fight! We have women, and children here!” He called again. “If I bring you his body as proof, will you let us go?”

”OF COURSE.” The Warcry barked. “BRING HIM TO ME.” With a nod Rusty popped back inside and took up a body covered in a sheet. He marched slowly across the foggy mists of Astoria, the whole battleground once again silent, the entirety of Astoria quiet again for the first time in days. An uneasy air as if the madness will grab you from behind. “When he signals for the others to come out, if they’re Metal, shoot them.” The Warcry spoke sharply. His troops nodded and watched the approaching white cloth.

Rusty placed the body on the ground, his whole outer aperance was depressed and lazy, as if he’d given up the ghost.

”The clockworks… serve you.” He spoke joylessly, head bowed.

The Warcry reached for the cloth.

”Wait, I got that wrong.” Rusty looked up, his turquoise visor shining a refreshed new. “The meatbag expression is; you got served!” Ripping the cloth off himself he reached down and pulled off a red tag. The Warcrys had been so busy watching him they didn’t realise what he left.

They never learn.

The Bomb bleeped one last time, and it wasn’t a small C4 charge, it was a big bomb. How big was undecided, but it was a concussion blast with roughly the same strength of the smallest of nuclear warheads, but minus the radiation. The Warcrys and Mechmen were so tightly packed together that all of them suffered. All of them, even Rusty, the brave knight from another planet defending the world in a way he felt he could.

I lie. One survived.

The giant Warcry, the monster of the battle endured with his roar of anger apparent as he shook off the parts that had embedded in to him like shrapnel, but then again the largest bit of shrapnel to this monster was like the tiniest bite from an ant. The battle was far from over, and for once the king would have to agree with the monster.

Cogs stepped outside of his base, but he was alone and not wearing his cape, he had a different back ornament in mind. Wired up completely to the inside of his base, the charge started. Clenched fists would bring about the end of this war, clenched fists and all the power Astoria could spare.

The lights drained from the area, streetlights and store-lights died. The old cinema and the hardware store, Magician’s the comic shop and the Hotels, all gave up their illumination for the Clockwork King as he crackled with energy. Soon it was pitch black, the glow of the eyes to the Goliath lit up his white head.

The crack of electricity.

”Welcome to my kingdom, for I am the King, I am the sun, the moon, the stars and earth. I protect and serve my people. I am Thor, and more.”

Another crack of electricity occurred.

”You can not win.” The goliath spoke.

”I’ll win, because I raise a glass to fallen friends, instead of these comedians. I do this for Ulfsark, I do this for Big Ben, I do this for Rusty-Bandage, I do this for my lost Son Gears, I do this for my living son Tick-tock and I do this for my wife, comatose as she is. I do this for the Clockworks.”

”I do this for my God.” He replied.

”And that is why you’ll fail.”

”DESTROY ME IF YOU CAN!” Goliath shouted one last time.

”FOR TACHO-PIZZA!” Cogs screamed as he let fourth the charged bolts of lightning, and unlike before this was literally a bolt of lightning; thick, powerful, devastatingly quick and horrendously noisy.

The lights came back, illuminating the area as if nothing had happened, as if it had always been with that same silence. The giant monster stood there for a moment.

”I meet thee brothers…” He spoke quietly, a clawed hand feeling the hole in his chest, roughly the size of a house. The end had come quickly for this monster; it had come at a cost of thousands to both sides.

The cost of war, the price of ‘peace’.

Cogs lowered his arm, now melted from the efforts as the Clockworks came out to see the damage, or to lend aid. They had one, they were victorious. The clockworks cheers, mothers reuniting with their spouses if they survived and androids patting themselves on the back for a job well done. They had survived. They had won.

Cogs fell backwards, the cables disconnecting from his frame.

The Armies rushed to their lord. He had fallen.

In the end, Two thousand, four hundred and thirty seven point five Clockworks met their end; One hundred of the Androids and Robot alliance met their end also. All of the Council Mechmen, Warcry and the Goliath died by their hands. Cogs was deified, his body was placed on his throne, HIS throne and his queen next to him like statues as the remaining clockworks, a meagre two hundred tried to repair the damage as mothers scavenged for ‘food’, the fathers gave up their powerpacks and stood as the terracotta army, defending their lord in the hope that the women could one day reactivate them, the generator and the portal.

And amidst it all two things happened.

Lyn-Lyn Richards, the Heroic Legend screamed in the night.

And a very confused and slightly damaged group of Nano-bots clambered on to the thrones trying to find something to repair... Anything.

Ana lay curled in a hollow in Eastgate, clutching the haft of her axe. Fragile whispers clouded her sleep and wove intricate and unsettling dreams. Her eyelids flickered as past events were relived and tainted by a presence she knew and shied away from.

The sky brightened almost imperceptibly and as the weak light revealed her face, Ana roused. A thin thread of a thought not her own lingered as she opened her eyes. There are promises to keep, Fräulein…

Lying on her back, she gazed at the sky, reflecting on nothing as the ominous thought faded. Fear of what the thought and those akin to it meant had driven her to seek her friends under the statue in Galaxy but she had found little solace there. She knew they meant well but still felt herself drifting further from them, something she was unsure how to rectify…

Her mind clear, she rose and looked around. There were indeterminate rumbles in the distance. Perhaps falling shells, perhaps super-powered combat… It mattered little to her as an immediate concern. Eastgate had met with a large-scale invasion and, while the city’s defences, defenders and heroes were holding on, the area itself was overrun with Council soldiers and little else. She no longer knew whether or not her presence made a difference but resolved not to allow self-doubt hinder her.

The district had once been a pleasure to behold: lightly forested with rolling hills and charming houses. The Hollowing had changed that and reduced the area to one of perpetual conflict, a virtual war zone. The Council invasion, however, had turned it into a graveyard…

Her gaze had rested on the middle distance as she considered these changes. Ana shook her head angrily at the danger of such an activity and, having strapped her axe to her back once more, moved out of her hollow and made her way to the river’s edge. Kneeling, she removed her bracers and thrust her hands into the cold water. She scrubbed them vigorously, ignoring the dull ache that cold water always brought from her scars. She splashed water on her face and scrubbed it too before settling back on her heels and letting the water run down her cheeks and neck. She ran wet fingers through her hair to tidy it, picking plant detritus out when she came across it. Wiping her hands dry on her leggings, she reached for her whetstone and oiled cloth.

Her axe gleaming, she stood and replaced her bracers, adjusting them idly as she looked around. Another rumble shook the ground and see scanned the horizon for its source.

It will be a busy day, she thought, spotting smoke in the distance. I had best begin.

An unknown location in some dimension or the other - 3.8.2006 (Thursday)

There was a signature hum of the door opening in the otherwise silent observation chamber. The man with the blazing purple eyes did no turn to look. Instead he kept looking at a screen on the wall and the two people in it. A female voice spoke behind him. "Report, Dolor." The man who had tried to bend Coile into treason lifted his hand lazily and pointed at the screen. "Phase two is in progress, Countess Ater."

The woman took her place next to nictus Dolor and fixed her radiating eyes onto the screen as well. "I have been assigned to this center recently. Describe the project." She gave the man a meaningful look of a superior being who very much disliked her time being wasted. "Briefly."

Giving an obedient nod the man gestured at the display. "We are to break their wills before nictus implantation. Direct wish from Lord Requiem. For his own reasons the chosen method is psychological. My personal guess is that they are to be hurt in the process."

It was as if frozen breath was coming from her mouth. "Your personal assessments do not concern me." Giving a few seconds for the man to remember who was senior to whom she asked, "Who are they? Accomplished heroes and notable enemies?"

"Their names are Sword of Truth, named Nadia Forester and Coile, named Andre Kraft. Their records are good but not stellar. Each has taken part in a direct operation against our Lord's divine plans." He kept any sign of contempt out of his voice fearing it might be interpreted as expressing a personal opinion. "They more or less landed on our laps."

"They are healthy bodies and will serve us well. It is of no consequence how they were obtained." For the first time Countess Ater seemed to show some interest. "How will they be broken?"

"Hero Coile is the more unstable one. He will experience the death of his companion multiple times. When he cracks we will use him as a host and present him to hero Sword of Truth hoping that that will dissolve her resolve to resist."

Countess Ater pursed her lips. "Very well. What is happening at this moment?" Dolor nodded at the screen. "The usual. Shock. Hugging. Crying. Kissing. Also a proposal. They are soon ready and will be separated."

Frowning the base commander tilted her head. "Are you sure it is wise to strenghten their illusion of hope by providing proof that the other one is alive?" Her underling bowed his head. "Other methods fell short. Ice can support more weight that water but ice can be broken. Water cannot." He felt smug while not letting it show.

"See that there are shards soon, Dolor. Our master requires new hosts within the week." Then she turned her back and walked out of the door.

((sorry for all bad spelling and grammer and generally crappy prose. I knocked this together in about 5 minutes while dodging my supervisor at work ^_^ As always - 1st person from me))

Unknown Location - Unknown Time - 8.8.2006(Tuesday)


I slammed the thick wad of sheets down on the table, standing up quick enough to jar my knee on the edge I tried not to wince but stayed standing radiating anger as thick as fog.

“A joke right? You don’t seriously think I would agree to this?”

“Professor Stevens, you have a good track record with keeping our secrets despite becoming a hero. Our records show you were loyal even while your family was threatened... You can’t buy that type of service”

I sneered at the casual manner of the man in front of me, his smooth docile tones were starting to really get to me, not to mention the way he had no guards with him at all… As if I wasn’t a danger at all!

“Now look here, you. I worked hard for the column; they treated me and mine alright for what it’s worth. That was years ago and I quit fair and square, I kept to my contracts ok? I’m not bloody working for some cheap Council scum like you against people I know and work with.” Joanne picked up the folder again and threw it in his face, the sheets going everywhere while the Archeon just sat there with a pleasant smile on his face.

I stood up straight trying not to let the anger drain and leave me feeling foolish as I knew I would. The emotions I had locked in was the only thing keeping me focused against this man and whatever mind tricks he was trying to pull. I swiftly turned on my heels and made for the door as two men in normal council uniforms come to stand just inside, barring the way out.

“Professor Stevens, You will drop your defences and accept our terms, I don’t want to damage you before you have given us what we want. The others we brought here never put up a fight and yet you continue to resist.”

As I frowned at the two guards I spotted the badges of those gone through the war wolf programme. Others? “What others?”

“You know I won’t tell you that.”

Damn.. “You know I don’t care”

“No…. I suppose not… You’ve not had a hand in this war at all; despite your so called friends dying left right and centre you still avoid joining any sides. Why is that?”

“Sod off, Vyros”

“Tsk tsk, Insult is the last defence of a stupid person” I felt him shift ever so slightly until he was leaning forward over the table, his gaze boring into the back of my skull. “We don’t want you to kill anyone, even though we have evidence that you still can and have frequently done it recently…”

He paused to let that revelation sink in. yet I ignored it for now, letting the outrage add to my defences. I grit my teeth to bite back the comment.

“… no, we just want information… movements… that sort of thing…”

I stopped listening, some babble about Requiem’s glorious victory being in my hands.. all I could hear was a buzzing in my ears as the temper took over in a blinding flash of white and blue lightning. I was vaguely aware of not being able to feel the heartbeat of the guards anymore, the Vampyr I wasn’t so sure about but I never stayed to check.. I ran as if Requiem himself plagued my footsteps and didn’t stop until I found myself out of breath and standing in front or the portal corps buildings..

I looked down at myself groggily and found my clothes dirty and my hair now undyed… the inky blackness I’d contained so well stained my hands, receding back up my arms…

I was ready to choose a side…

((Apologies in advance if this post doesn;t 'come off' as intended. I'm rubbish at posting links!

Just a little fun I had with Paint and screenshots...

Kata's Fight in the Nephous Quadrant

and in case that didn't work:

[image]http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i61/lord_ionos/NephousFight.jpg[/image]