Lucy Now The Zigg
Female Block
The cameras panned over the cell and surveyed the scene below. Two girls, one on each bed, staring intently at each other over the intervening gap of a few metres that separated them and kept the peace. Hands itched and both clawed at their sheets in frustration.
One had black hair, long and lustrous, hanging down her back in a flowing mess of tangled ends and matted clumps, unkempt and dirty. She wore the Zigg uniform, an orange jump-suit and a prisoner number, yet all was but a distraction from her eyes, which were such a dark brown as to be black and seemed to sink into her head, opening a window to a soul, both empty and hollow. Right now her lips were curled in sadistic pleasure as she attempted to torment her adversary across the room.
The other girl was smaller, more petite, and her eyes were as white as her cell-mates were black. Underneath the orange suit her body looked well maintained, strong and athletic yet lithe and well toned. Her identifying feature however was her hair, curled into dreads and combed back over her shoulders. It was beautifully arranged, a sign that the girl was new, and the pink hair dye was still vivid and strong, occasionally interspersed with streaks of red.
A voice sounded over the comms, gravel-like and husky, yet in a way kind, that is, as kind as any voices heard inside this concrete tomb, where the trash and garbage of the fair Rogue Isles were sent to rot out of the sight of public eyes and out of the reach of public minds. The voice spoke,
Ms. Andrews, youre to leave, please stand.
The woman with the black hair did as she was told, her eyes never leaving her opponents as she strided confidently to the door of the cell and left in the custody of a pair of guards to another cell, far far away from her previous cell-mate, as far as possible, so that future repercussions could be, for the most part, avoided.
Lucy Then Kings Row
Everyone always said that Lucy had her mothers eyes, and now she did, container A247.B, alongside her fathers heart, A247.C. So beautiful in their clear cases, supported in a gel, the eye staring and the heart still beating, shaking the shelf ever so slightly and causing its other tenants to rattle or squelch in their cases.
Perfect, Lucy smiled, she would of course keep the rest, but these would be her pride and joy for a few days before they lost her interest and were forced to compete with others for her loving eyes that began to stare so adoringly at others. Lucy walked, along the isle, calm as can be with a cardboard pad in her hand and a pen dancing between her fingers, the long laboratory coat she wore billowing out behind her in the artificial wind of hundreds of ice-cold jets, designed to keep the warehouse as cold as possible.
Stepping into the sun Lucy smiled again, what a glorious day, another day of wonders in this black city upon a green earth within a universe of wonders.
Lucy Now The Zigg
Enjoying youre sleep are you darling?
The voice echoed around the empty room and into the ears of the girl on her bed, who sat up, slowly bringing herself upright and her eyes level with that of the warden outside the bars of her cage. He was escorting another girl, this time with blond hair and tattoos that covered the entirety of her bare flesh revealed by the jump suit.
Another punk, a boring, predictive, image obsessed punk. Lucy fell back onto her bed with a groan as the woman was ushered inside by men with tasers. The woman advanced on her, preparing to assert her dominance, in plain sight of the guards who had only just begun to round the corner and Lucy wondered why on earth shed let herself get into this mess.
As the pattering of feet began to fade away the voice of the warden shouted around the corner, to the whole of the prison as much to Lucy and her cell mate,
Have fun you two!
When out of ear shot he turned to his friend and laughed, saying after a second,
$10 say were moving the new girl out by the end of the week.
Third Degree
Ziggursky Interview Room - Now
The door to the interview room slid open and Julius Byrne was ushered into the room, shuffling in his chains, the bright orange boiler suit rustling as he moved. Although a pair of power-dampening manacles embraced his wrists, his legs were still bound with standard chains, causing him to walk in very short steps.
Inside the room was a desk and behind it was a smartly dressed man in a suit, blonde and with delicate, angular glasses. He reeked of being a lawyer, even in this place.
Ten minutes, said the guard, firmly but in a manner that suggested that he didnt want to annoy the lawyer. He left the room and locked it behind him. The lawyer shuffled some papers in front of him.
Excuse me a moment, he said, taking a small black box from his jacket pocket and placing it on the table. He pressed a button on the side of it and then sat to address Byrne. This is not a tape recorder, he stated. It is a transmitter, designed to interfere with magnetic recording. Should the warden ever attempt to review a tape of this meeting, he will see and hear nothing but static. Now, to business.
Byrne remained unmoving, trying to assess the man in front of him as he continued to talk.
Ill come straight to the point, he began. My name is Mr Dufresne, I am employed by Mr Mason, a man with many interests in this part of the world. He has recently discovered that in order to further his business ventures, he requires a team of motivated people to enforce his authority in certain places, namely the Etoile Isles. I trust you are familiar with them? Byrne didnt respond so Mr Dufresne just continued on. Youll be pleased to know that you have been identified as a person qualified for such a job.
Byrne raised his manacles. Theres not much I can do while I am bound like a slave, he rumbled.
Indeed, replied the lawyer. Very soon, there will be a raid on this prison. I have arranged for yourself and the other members of Mr Masons little cadre to be among those retrieved. However, the troops will only be able to land next to D Block, where their attack will commence. You will need to find a way into said Block if you wish to take up Mr Masons generous offer. We can provide you with clothing and equipment but you will need to make it to the rendezvous in Port Oakes. How you do so is up to you.
Byrne sat back in his chair, amused. This Mr Mason was direct at least. Mr Dufresne, as much as I appreciate your employers offer, I am no mans lackey. I will not be at the beck and call of your master like some lap dog when I still have my message to spread.
And you will be able to do so, replied Dufresne. All of the cadre will be entitled to continue in whatever business they wish to once in the Isles on the following two conditions. One, they do nothing to incriminate or bring attention to Mr Mason. Two, that under no circumstances should they attempt to discover who Mr Mason is. Aside from your servitude, you are free to do as you wish. Or you can sit here and serve your time. The choice is yours.
Byrne considered his options. As much as life in the Zig was tolerable, he was serving two consecutive life sentences. Even with good behaviour, hed be lucky if he was out by 65. And although he resented working for someone, at least the Etoile Isles was freedom of a kind. Hed studied their history before, even making an illicit visit to their shores. Lord Recluse at least understood that might should decide right and maintained order there with an iron fist. It was a philosophy that stood well within Byrnes morality. He considered that perhaps he could aid this Mr Mason for a while, then venture onwards once his freedom was secured.
Before he could respond, seemingly prompted by his thoughts, a large brown envelope was slid across the table towards him. I was told to present this to you, stated Mr Dufresne, in case you needed any further convincing.
Byrne took the envelope and shook out the contents. Inside was a large photograph. The image hit him like a bombshell, his plans crumbling before it.
Mr Mason takes all such contracts of employment very seriously, affirmed the lawyer. I can assure you that he knows a lot about the people he chooses.
As the shockwaves died down, Byrne took the picture and slid it back inside its envelope. Whatever choice he thought hed had was no more than an illusion.
When do we begin?
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk
It was around this time that you came to Paragon, if Im not mistaken. The lawyer continued in his odd dulcet tone, unfitting for his build. Gabe sat and watched the lawyer as he thumbed through pages of the dossier, shuffling a little, causing his chains to clang and echo around the now silent interview room.
Something happened, something changed you. And you turned to murder. We have a long list of victims here, Mister Silveria. All with your distinct method. No visible signs of break-in, no signs of a struggle. Just one swift cut across the throat. You had the PPD stumped for a long time, didnt you
Gabe shuffled uneasily in his cold metal chair, his head cocking a little, trying to assess the situation, find out what this mysterious lawyer wanted.
Whats the point of this? Im already serving my time. Gabe retorted, his voice unwavering but his mind not so.
The point? The point is, Mister Silveria, you have a unique talent. And it is a talent that my employer is greatly interested in. The lawyer slowly closed the paper dossier in front of him, placing his hands on it and staring at Gabe with deep, dark blue eyes.
My name is Mr Johnson, the lawyer continued. I work for a Mr Mason, a man interested in expanding his business ventures into this part of the world. However, what he needs is a group of like minded people, people willing to enforce his view here. We know you have ventured to the Etoile Isles before.
Gabriel remained silent, continuing to stare at the lawyer, feeling extremely uneasy about keeping his gaze.
Mr Mason thinks you are a perfect candidate. A break out has been scheduled for the near future, but thanks to the nature of this prison, the only safe place to land is near D Block. The lawyer shifted in position ever so slightly, leaning forward. If you get yourself in to D Block before that day, you will be taken care of. Equipment and clothing will be provided once you make it to a set rendezvous. And you will be allowed to do whatsoever you wish, as long as you remain loyal to Mr Mason.
Gabriel leant forward and rested his manacled hands on the table, almost threateningly. And what if I dont want to work for Mr Mason? I have my own things to take care of
he softly growled, the intent behind his voice easily recognisable. He didnt like the idea of working under someone again. Freedom was much more fun, and allowed him to carry out his job in peace.
Mr Silveria, I was told this situation might arise. Mr Mason is well aware of your mission in life. And he told me to present you with this. The lawyer was almost whispering as a dark brown envelope was laid on the table.
Gabe slowly opened the lip of the envelope, sliding out the photo and documents gradually. He stopped as the photo was only half way, the image on it already burned into Gabriels mind. He lifted his head to glare at the lawyer.
Mr Mason knows you better than you do, Gabriel. Be prepared.
@Crius
Bassai, Canadian Kid, Alruna, Kahi
Mistress Rad, Culpeo, Ms. Demeanor, Celsius
If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. Let's go to work.
WarpLocke
Secure Infirmary, the Zig - Now
"...moving him out of here, Doctor. He's got an appointment."
Hank Delacroix opened his eyes. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but the pain in his chest had more or less faded, and someone had turned the lights down to a bearable level. He sat up, looking around to see who had spoken.
The doctor on duty was talking to one of a trio of guards, carrying a selection of chains and other restraints. "If those are your orders, I'll release him, but I'll be filing a protest. I don't know what kind of powers he has keeping him going, but nobody who's been shot that many times should be leaving this place so soon."
The guard shrugged. "Not my problem now and it won't be then."
"I wouldn't worry, Doc." Hank swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I was gettin' tired of the décor in here anyway."
The guards closed in, securing the power-dampening manacles around his wrists before unfastening him from the wall. He stood, a little shakily, while they chained his ankles and ushered him toward the door.
"One second." The doctor opened one of the supply cabinets and took out a pair of dark glasses, which he handed to the lead guard. "He'll need these. The city won't appreciate it if he goes blind before his trial."
Hank blinked, relieved, as the shades blocked the glare from his eyes. Today was starting to look like it might be a good day. "Much obliged, doc. Where did you fellas say I was going again?"
"Interview room. Your lawyer's waiting for you."
"Huh." Hank followed in small, ungainly steps as the guards led him out of the room. Since when do I have a lawyer?
* * *
The appearance of the man waiting in the interview room answered no questions. He was tall, pale and almost skeletally thin, giving his completely bald head a faintly skull-like appearance. Green-grey eyes paler than any Hank had ever seen, aside from his own, watched unblinkingly as the guards led him to his chair. "Ten minutes, Delacroix," the lead guard muttered as he and his colleagues made their exit, without so much as a backward glance.
Hank sat in silence, watching his visitor with some bemusement. "So just where the hell did you come from?" he asked, finally.
"I am Mr Weaver, representing the firm of - excuse me a moment." The lawyer reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a small black box with a button on the side, which he pressed as he placed it on the table. "We really must ensure that this conversation is held in the strictest confidence. To finish answering your question, as of the hour of your arrest, I am your attorney."
"That so?" Hank shrugged. "Well now, ain't that convenient?"
"Mr Mason expected that you might think so." The lawyer's face showed no more expression than his clipped, accentless speech. "Mr Mason has a vested interest in ensuring that you are well advised for what is to come."
Hank nodded. "And I suppose 'Mr Mason' thinks maybe he's gonna get something in return?"
"In a sense, he does. And Mr Mason is very seldom wrong about these things."
"Well, I don't need any lawyers with strings attached, thanks very much." Hank sat back in his chair. "I'll take my chances."
Weaver nodded. "Mr Mason also expected you would be reluctant." He took a crisp white paper envelope from his briefcase and slid it across the desk. "He prepared an appropriate incentive."
Hank opened the envelope, carefully removing the file it contained and reading over it. "Well, now. Mr Mason is just full of good ideas, ain't he?"
Weaver nodded. "As you can see, Mr Mason is capable of being quite generous. By way of earnest-payment, he will effect your departure from this institution in the near future. There are only two things you need do to facilitate this plan."
Hank handed the file back. "I'm all ears."
"First, you will plead guilty on all charges. The trial is an unnecessary complication and must not be allowed to obstruct our efforts or draw undue attention. Second, you will contrive a means of reaching the special containment area in D Block to meet the other members of your cadre. Two small gestures of trust."
Hank raised an eyebrow. "That's a lotta trust to ask. They're never gonna make that murder charge stick - they don't even know how I killed the guy."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. The requirement stands. I guarantee that you will not have to wait long for your trust to be repaid." Weaver reached into his briefcase and took out a second file. "And in case you are in need of further persuasion - or considering leaving Mr Mason's employ the moment you are free - " He handed over the file in silence.
Hank read it. Then he took off his shades and read it again. He looked up at Weaver, eyes narrowed. "You do know that I could burn your heart out of your chest from where I'm sitting?" he hissed.
"I am well aware of it. If, of course, you were prepared to die in the process." Weaver showed no fear, no emotion at all. "We know quite well how your... powers work. Better than you do. Suffice to say that killing me would have quite the opposite effect to what you wish. I am here to proffer the carrot, Mr Delacroix. Mr Mason has other employees to wield the stick."
Hank tossed the file back to him. "Fine. You got yourself a deal."
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Lucy Now The Zigg
The man was fairly nondescript, but Lucy noticed his eyes glinting slightly when he smiled as she sat down. She began to speak but he held up a finger and withdrew a black case from the inside of his suit; it looked like recording equipment but after it was set down on the table the lawyer relaxed noticeably,
There, now we can talk, Lucy didnt answer, but the man didnt seem to mind, perhaps he expected it, and he continued in level tones, My name is Mr. Darrock, I am employed by a Mr. Mason, who, if I may speak bluntly, is interested in your services.
The only response he got was a raised eyebrow, a sign of slight interest at best, but Mr. Darrock was not deterred and plunged onwards, My employer is looking to make a team, a team of people loyal to him who will accept his authority and work on behalf of his causes. I am proud to inform you that you are one of the few which have been chosen to embark upon this adventure.
Lucy spoke, So I assume if that is the case then I will not be cramped inside this hell-hole much longer?
Oh of course not, Mr. Darrock smiled, You, and your team-mates, will be removed simultaneously from D-Block as soon as it is possible.
But I am not in D-Block. Mr. Darrocks smile widened,
Now Ms. Lucy, I am sure an imaginative young girl like yourself will be able to think of a way to get herself into trouble; many others far less capable seem confident enough. Darrock was relieved to see that the little jab incited some physical response, if only the clenching of manacled hands under the desk.
Weapons and clothing will be distributed amongst you once the escape begins, as will assistance from some of Mr. Masons associates. In return for our aid and offer of employment, however, we ask a few things of you.
Lucy nods, and Darrock continues, We would ask you do not try to discover the identity of Mr. Mason, we would ask that you obey him, and we ask that in whatever private undertakings you may participate in that you do not incriminate Mr. Mason in anyway, if you do, please be aware you will be severely punished.
At this point Lucy spoke up, You assume a lot Mr. Darrock, what if I do not want to participate in your Mr. Masons team. Darrock sighed, and after rummaging around in the innards of his jacket he produced a small brown envelope which he proceeded to slide across the table to the girl, who awkwardly opened it. Her reaction was nothing more than a sigh, but after the envelope was returned she nodded as well, Okay then, Ill be in D-Block by the time Im needed, I trust that that is all you need? When the lawyer didnt answer Lucy stood, walking back outside into the restricting arms of a pair of guards, she licked her lips as she walked along the corridor, already she had a chance.
Tarana
Female Block, Yard, The Zig - Now
The yard was busy. Only a few hours each day the inmates where allowed outside. For Tarana it was more then enough. Some where socializing and talking about their powers or what they did before they where arrested, others just enjoyed the rare sunny afternoon. Tarana was in a corner that had some dumbbells lying around. Sitting on a bench training her arms. She was completely oblivious of the people around her while she added weights almost the same as the super strength empowered women from her block.
One of the guards walked up to her... "Stromboli..."
Not used to be called that anymore Tarana ignored the man completely.
"Stromboli, front and center. You're lawyer is here!", the guard repeated himself. Hitting her dumbbell with his nightstick.
Not being able to ignore him anymore Tarana realized he was talking to her. "No-one calls me that anymore...", she mutters. She dropped the dumbbell and followed the guard. Very curious on how her mysterious lawyer would look like, having heard only a few words from him over the phone.
The interrogation room held a small table and two chairs. on the table was something that looked like a tape recorder. Behind the table was a slightly heavy man with a small beard. His black suit and case showed him to be the man in question. The door closed behind Tarana. "Who the hell are you!", she said.
"And good afternoon to you too, Ms. Stromboli.", he answered with a small smile and a wicked flicker in his eye. "I am Mr. Lomax. My employer Mr. Mason showed interests in you and made sure I was appointed as you're lawyer." He gestured for Tarana to sit down.
"What does he want from me!", she asked blunt while sitting down. Tarana was never someone with much patience to begin with.
"He wants you to be part of his new project... a team of loyal specialists. You showed much promise Ms. Stromboli.", Lomax folded his hands awaiting a response. He didn't had to wait long...
Tarana looked him straight in the face, "He is mad! ...and stop calling me that. If you have to call me Tarana! I am not a lackey to anyone."
Acting like he didn't hear her Mr. Lomax continued... "If you agree to not pursue Mr. Mason himself, obey him, or incriminate him in anyway... You will be outside these walls within a few weeks, max. In return you will act upon his requests in this newly formed team of specialists he likes to call ' The Cadre'. He also told me to hand you this..." He took a brown envelope out of the inside of his jacket and placed it on the table. "You might want to look at the insides before you decide."
"Can't hurt to look...", Tarana replies while grabbing and opening the envelope. Inside was a paper with a photograph attached. Upon looking at it Tarana's expression changed from grim to downright homicidal. "What the [censored] is this. How did you... I... I don't have a choice..." She squashed the paper in her fist.
Mr. Lomax looked up to her... "No worries, it is only a copy."
Tarana had a face like she had seen a ghost, "What do I have to do!"
"Make sure you are back in D-block again soon. The breakout will be from there. After that you will be brought to the Etoile Isles where you will be able to meet you're contact.", he answered while grabbing the ruined paper and dropping it in his suitcase.
A small smile showed on her face while she calmed down again... "Joe will be glad to see me back again."
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"I trust that you're aware quite how dangerous this one is? You'll have to sign a release form..."
"No rhyme nor reason... I understand and it's fine, we go back a long way. I can handle him, he's my client after all. I sign here yes? I assume this places the risk of this meeting firmly in my hands?"
"You're the lawyer, you tell me."
The Black Golem
Ziggursky Interview Room - Now
Mr Townsend took a seat at the table, as the man whom he claimed to be affiliated with was brought through the opposite door. Held beneath each arm by power armoured guards, and flanked by a man in a regular wardens uniform whose mouth was open a jar.
As the armed guards moved away, their prisoner slinked forwards to stand over his new partner in crime. Townsend stared feircly back at the monster before him, communicating a message that could not be spoken in such company as the Zigg Guards.
"Mr Townsend." the warden began, his Super Sonic voice thunderous even hushed, made the Prisoner step away uncomfortably. "My special assignment is to be released into your care." this Wardens face was hard, worn and pock marked. "Once again..."
"Yes." Townsend cut in bluntly, "That will be all thank you very much officer."
The warden nodded and waited for the clunking armed guards to leave, before following them with his gaze and his aim fixed to the last second on the inmate under special care. The door closed gently with a click, and deadbolts were set fast in place, the prisoner in question took his seat, scraping the metal chair along the marble floor.
Lowering himself to Townsends level, his unusual form was revealed. His skin was a fine grain of jet black charcoal, gently shifting and reconstituting his facial features like a crumbling sand dune. His eyes were vile, soulless obsidian orbs pressed firm into his head, vaguely transparent like a marble glass, his iris' twitched and refocused uncontrollably as he viewed Townsend as another potential victim. Then the ash skinned man, raised a corner of his withered lip, widened his eyes, and forced his fingers slowly across the table inch by inch towards Townsend.
"Now, now, Rak'ha." said townsend, perfectly rolling the R and gently breathing his names ending, as he placed a small black box on the table and activated its jamming frequencies. "I'll have none of that." The Golem raised his nose and tightened his eyes as he gazed on Townsend and his magic box in a new light, posturing himself to hear the man out.
"I know that you're still an inquisitive human being beneath that fascinating body of yours, so I'm going to answer your questions for you."
"For example to answer three..." the Black Golem before him twitched slightly, but Townsend carried on cofidently. "I came here to offer you a deal. I know your name because I am very well connected and this box is a means to keep our little chat just between us."
The Golem looked intrigued as it raised the sand where an eyebrow once was into a ridge above its right eye. Townsend reached into his briefcase, holding a stare with the Golem that showed he neither feared nor despised it, Evil knew Evil well, this much Townsend knew would protect him as he slid a brown case file across the table benath his fingers, holding his hand above it.
"You need to know that my Master is a man called Mr. Mason, he is a very powerful individual. Powerful beyond even your comprehension and to prove that I have something for you..."
His fingers reached beneath the folders edge and he lifted it open to reveal a large colour photograph, which he slid towards the Golem, revealing a printed document beneath it. At this The Black Golems mouth opened, a look of shock covering his face like a skin.
"What is... this?" he finally spoke as if breathed inwards through a heavily corrupted respiratory system.
"Do I need to spell it out for you Mister Rak'ha?" asked Townsend. "Mr. Mason knows you better than even you know yourself, and because of this, you have been chosen to join his new project."
"It is long since I have served another but her and I accept." replied the Golem firmly.
Townsend sounded slightly bemused as he smiled and placed the image and paper document back in his briefcase, "Mr. Mason knew that you'd understand Mister Rak'ha. Though he was quite insistent that you must agree to three conditions beforehand..."
The Golem raised his head to look down on Townsend "What are your terms?"
"Number One; do nothing to incriminate or bring attention to Mr Mason. Number Two, under no circumstances attempt to discover who Mr Mason is. Three... and this is only for you... do not kill as you once did, without restraint, only do what is necessary, Mr Mason will be the judge of what this amounts to."
The Golem nodded compliantly, slowly, his expression dulled.
"There will be a prison break soon. You needn't do anything but wait right where you are up in D-Block." Townsend stood up and gathered his things, stopping to look the Golem in the eyes. "You'll be joined by a fellow Cadre of prisoners in D Block. These talented people will be your new clan from then on."
Townsend smiled a despicable look at the Black Golem as he picked up his little black box. "Any questions before I shut this thing off?" he said waving it in his grip.
"No." with that Townsend clicked the button and walked up to the door, pressing the buzzer.
"It was a pleasure Mr. Gol-"
The Golem was standing behind Townsend, his hand held firm on his shoulder. "Master Mason will understand..." whispered the Golem as black sand tendrils slithered their way over Townsends forehead towards his nose and mouth. Townsend tried to break free but it was no use, his days were numbered.
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
Nadja Romanov
Agincourt, Nerva Archipelago Then
Nadjas First Offer
After the clamour and commotion of her arrival into the Longbow base, the air was suddenly still. She enjoyed the quite time. Focused on a point on the wall to overcome the pain.
Two Longbow agents were sat opposite her, a heavy table inbetween them. Moments early they had sat her down and cuffed her hands. The bruised flesh of her right wrist pressed painfully against the metal.
The first Longbow agent, a short, muscular man with a fiery red Amish beard, stared at her. His partner, an athletic woman with a high, blonde ponytail, was nervous. She kept looking to the man and then to Nadja.
Who were you working for? the male Longbow asked.
Three of my ribs are fractured. My wrist is broken. You are required to see that I get medical attention before questioning me, replied Nadia, the copper taste of blood in her mouth.
The woman looked to her partner then back to Nadja. We will, I promise. Just answer Sergeant Masseys questions and well get you out of here.
Nadja resisted sighing, realising her good cop act was genuine. So was her fear of getting caught breaking the rules.
Three of my ribs are fractured. My wrist is broken. You are required to see that I get medical attention before questioning me, said Nadja again, no trace of emotion.
Sergeant Massey pulled up his spandex sleeve to reveal a tattoo. Do you know what that is?
Nadja looked. Is it a clowns face?
The sergeants face reddened. No its a wolfs paw print. You know what that means?
You like wolves? Nadja volunteered.
He could barely contain it now. Everyone who trained under Commander Stonefang got one of these. He called us the Wolf Cubs. We knew
we knew we were safe with him. And he knew wed do anything for him. Im going to bring everyone involved in what happened down there to justice.
The female agent put her hand on his to comfort him. Its ok, Massey, we will. But we should take the prisoner to
Not until she tells us who else was involved, Sachss. Shes not leaving here till she tells us. He looked at Nadja. Youre going to spend the rest of your life in prison unless you start talking. Tell me who was behind this!
Nadja filed the name Sachss along with Massey for the future. Part of her wanted to talk just to make the pain stop, but she had been raised better than that. She considered her options. With her interests in the Etoile Islands ratting out an Arbiter wasnt a wise career move. Besides, she was going to keep any bargaining chips until she was playing with someone who could actually cut a deal.
Three of my ribs are fractured. My wrist is broken. You are required to see that I get medical attention before questioning me.
@Romanov
Nadja Romanov, Lily Pink, Little Death - The Cadre
Estoque, Bastinado, Spidermonkey, Chic Doyle - The Militia
Miss Teen, Dead Reckoner, Dee Dee Diablo, Kaneko
Nadja Romanov
Female Block, The Zig Now
Nadia reclined on the top bunk in her cell reading a copy of Italian Vogue. Her eyes scanned the images and articles but the rest of her senses, honed in hell dimensions that didnt even have names, were alert to any hint of danger.
Officer Brenda Gillian, a plump-faced woman who would look more at home on a farm than a maximum-security cellblock, entered the cell. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and something wrapped in tissue paper in the other.
Good morning, Na
Ms Romanov, she said with a smile and a nervous energy that made Nadja want to punch her in the throat. Officer Babcock brought in pastries today so I brought you an apple Danish and a coffee. Black, no sugar.
The officer smiled, looking for approval like a puppy dog. Finally, Nadja looked up from her magazine. Ive lost six pounds since I arrived her, Brenda, do you really think I want to eat that carb-packed creation?
Im sorry, she said. I could get you
Nadja motioned with her magazine for the prison guard to put the pastry on the cells table. Although it served her to make her visitor feel awkward she wasnt going to turn down a tradable commodity.
She sat up on the bed and took the coffee. Anything else?
Officer Gillian flushed slightly. Dave asked me out
on a real date. Were going to see a movie and then get pizza at the bowling alley.
You have my sympathy, said Nadja.
No, no, its great. I mean Ive been hoping for months and now
I was wondering if youd help me with my hair and make up this evening? You always look so pretty and
I dont know I was thinking of going out myself tonight, said Nadja.
The officer turned slightly pinker. Oh, of course, Im sorry. I
hey, wait, youre joking with me, arent you?
Nadja nodded slightly. She took the officers chin in her hand and tilted her head slightly. Ill help you, Brenda. Ill warn you though, Im good but I cant perform miracles.
Thank you, you dont know how much this means to me.
Nadja smiled. Im sure well find out soon enough. Come back in an hour, Ill give you a list of things youll need to get on your lunchbreak.
Oh, I almost forgot why I came in in the first place, said Gillian. Id forget my own head if it wasnt screwed on. She opened the door of the cell fully. The library carts here.
A tall, thin man with a shock of green hair pushed the small cart laden with books into the cell. His orange jumpsuit looked several sizes to big for him. He seemed blessed with vacant euphoria that belied his incarceration.
Not today, said Nadja.
Undeterred he picked up a book and placed it on her bunk. Try this one, its my recommendation of the week.
Nadja looked at the book. Machiavellis The Prince. This was the first book my father ever gave me. Ive read it many times. Take it away.
The librarian turned and gripped the handles of his cart. That edition is most enlightening, Ill bet its got some new passages youre not come across before. But be careful, its delicate
I think the spiders have been at it.
He pushed his cart back on to the landing.
Officer Gillian smiled. See you in an hour then,
Nadja picked up the book and looked at the gold lettering on the green dust jacket. Yes. Ill be here.
@Romanov
Nadja Romanov, Lily Pink, Little Death - The Cadre
Estoque, Bastinado, Spidermonkey, Chic Doyle - The Militia
Miss Teen, Dead Reckoner, Dee Dee Diablo, Kaneko
Third Degree
Kings Row Boxing Gym Then
Byrne fell back into the corner, collapsing onto the stool. The cut above his right eye had opened again, leaving him half blind from the blood that flowed into it. Frank, his trainer, was swift to apply a damp towel to the wound, attempting to staunch the flow. Steam billowed off of the cloth as it touched his temple. Frank did his best to cover it with the towel.
How close are you? has asked to the punch drunk Byrne.
Close, replied Byrne, but I think I can control it.
Youd better, replied Frank. I put of a grand up for this match and he made me promise to not pit him against no mutants. You go Nova out there, we lose big time.
I know Frank, I know, reiterated Byrne. Like I said, I can handle it.
The fight had been straightforward. Down on his luck, Byrne had sunken into the dingy world of underground boxing. With no football team in the states wanting to touch him, hed moved into a new arena. Frank had found him at the gym and helped coach him in his new field. He was no contender but his size and increased strength when riled gave him an edge which made him a safe bet in an evenly matched fight. There was one risk of course. Most of the matches held after hours in this place were human against human. If Byrne lost control and let his anger get to him, hed burst into flames and reveal his meta-human nature to everyone. All bets would be off. So far, hed managed but the Mexican bruiser in the opposite corner was pushing him hard.
The bell rang and Byrne leapt back into the ring only to receive a cunning left hook to the jaw. He reeled, feeling the rage building, wanting to get out, wanting to destroy. He choked it back, just as El Toro delivered a series of body blows to him. He fought back, punching upwards into his opponents stomach. The Mexican staggered but didnt retreat. Byrne laid a lazy punch into mans chest, pushing him back. He followed with a left hook and a jab which connected with a satisfying slap. Toro countered, blocking Byrnes follow up and then laying in with a stunning combo of punches to his torso. Byrne hit the ropes and tried to bounce back. His calm was shattered and it took all of his strength to repress the fury that was filling him. Frank watched in horror as the ropes began to blacken from where they had touched Byrnes skin. He was close to losing it. But as his opponent closed once more, Byrne ducked to one side, sending a powerful blow into his foes gut. As the Mexican crumbled, Byrne pushed him backwards, a flurry of punches connecting with the stunned man. Finishing with a massive uppercut, Byrne staggered backwards as the man fell to the canvas, out for the count.
Frank ignored the opposite team as they leapt into the ring to check on their contender. He helped Byrne remove the cumbersome boxing gloves that he was trying to tear from his hands. The plastic on them was already blistering and it hurt to touch them.
Frank
he managed, grimacing, Ive got to go
Go? he replied, nonplussed.
I must go. Now. It was a statement that Frank didnt argue with. Stepping aside, Byrne ran from the gym.
Escaping outdoors, he jumped, clearing several buildings in one go. The cool night air did nothing for his temper which desperately wanted release. He ran further, heading into Eastgate Park. Finding a small glade, he ran into the centre and let the fury come.
With a dull thud, the grove exploded into flames, a fireball erupting in its centre, incinerating anything living around it. As the flames roared around him, Byrne stood naked in the centre, watching the trees succumb to the fire. He tried to remain rational about the explosion but one thought dominated his mind.
He had destroyed with nothing more than the power of his mutation. He felt powerful. Worse than that, it felt good
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk
Tarana
Kings Row Then
Behind the building the Skull gang of Tarana and her boyfriend Michael used, there stood a large truck. Several men where loading crates of superadine in the back. A Bone Crusher keeping track of the amount of crates.
The time was already 22:46 and the crates had to be at the meeting place in Steel Canyon on 00:00 precisely. Kalaks band of Trolls will be there with the money. So time was short. Tarana helped loading the crates. The cramp in her muscles ebbed down a bit and it kept her busy. She lifted the crates alone where most needed two or three men.
When the crates where all loaded Michael took his place next to the driver
being the Bone Daddy of the gang. Tarana would be lookout and in the back together with several others.
She kissed her lover before jumping in the back. For good luck!, she said
The truck took back roads mostly
managing to avoid the police patrols. The Bone Crusher behind the wheel obviously knew what he was doing. The trade would happen at one of the Storehouses in business centre. As far away from possible hero patrols as they could get.
The storehouse seemed abandoned but Kalak and a group of 4 trolls where waiting in front of it. He had a briefcase in his right hand. Michael stepped out first. His hands in full view to show that he wasnt carrying a weapon.
Tarana followed. Showing a small smile as she very well knew that both she and Michael wouldnt need any weapons if it would come to a brawl. The rest of the gang started to unload the superadine. Both gang leaders stepped forward leaving the rest of their men (and woman). Tarana noticed that the trolls had brought a truck too. It was standing in the alley next to the storehouse.
Kalak broke the silence first
Youre on time Skull
just. Is all in order?
Michael answered a bit grim, Of course Kalak
9 crated of superadine. In bottles. Unmixed, as we agreed upon. Enough to keep you and yours high for at least a year. Do you have my money?
Right here
, Kalak said while lifting his arm showing the briefcase.
Lets do this then
, Michael lifted his arm signing towards the Bone Crusher. Tarana and the Skulls placed the crated in-between the two leaders. Kalak placed the briefcase on top of one of the crates . When the Skulls returned to the car he opened it so Michael could count the money.
You will see its all there. He pointed out.
Michael did a quick but secure count. Then nodded his head and closed the briefcase. The briefcase was hardly closed or shot was heard. Kalak fell to the ground with a bullet hole between his eyes. All Skulls and Trolls grabbed their weapons. But before they even could blame each other the truck of the Skulls blew up. Tarana was blown away by the shockwave and landed against the wall of the storehouse. A bit dizzy she saw that the Bone Crusher had caught ablaze and was screaming for his life.
She shouted to him
Idiot, do you want to have all Paragons heroes up here! Then she saw them. A large group of Hellions came out of the shadows. Their leader hit Michael hard, long before his dark powers could really materialise. Obviously Michael was caught by surprise just as she was. She felt the rage come over her and stormed upon the Hellion holding the money. She pushed him away and sprinted towards the window next to the large door of the storehouse.
Ive got her, Flashfire!, Tarana heard a female voice say. Ok, Dante you and the men load up the superadine then. Use the truck of the troll scum., the leader of the Hellions screamed while shots where heard. I didnt let you guys follow this shipment all from Perez Park for nothing!
Tarana broke the lock of the window and jumped inside
in the hope to escape through the back. Inside she noticed that there was no backdoor. Muttering to herself how stupid she was to get herself trapped Tarana hid away as far in the back as she could. Checking out her options.
Outside her boyfriend and gang where badly wounded or dead. The Hellions had most members still fighting the Trolls. There had to be a way out.
Then she realized someone followed her inside.
- The Italian Job: The Godfather Returns #1151
Beginner - Encounter a renewed age for the Mook and the Family when Emile Marcone escapes from the Zig!
- Along Came a... Bug!? #528482
Average - A new race of aliens arrives on Earth. And Vanguard has you investigate them!
- The Court of the Blood Countess: The Rise of the Blood Countess #3805
Advanced - Go back in time and witness the birth of a vampire. Follow her to key moments in her life in order to stop her! A story of intrigue, drama and horror! Blood & Violence... not recommend to solo!
Third Degree
Kings Row Warehouse Then
The applause had been moderate. Byrne allowed himself a tiny smile. Audiences were not normally that appreciative by this point in his speeches. He must have hit a nerve.
And so, he continued, I look at our leaders, our politicians and I ask, who amongst them is a mutant? Which of them stands out proud of his meta-human heritage? Which of them is there to support our needs? Our views? Out priorities? He paused for effect. None of them ladies and gentlemen, none of them! Of course, they claim that they do, but how can they know what it is to be different? To stand out, sometimes forcibly from a crowd? No, they are there to maintain the current situation, not to challenge it. And I ask you, why should that be the case? As meta-humans, we are at the forefront of humanity, changing it, shaping it, crafting a new world and so I wonder where is our voice!?
There was a ripple of agreement through the crowd. A few jeers, even a shout of encouragement as Byrne paced the stage. But some of you here my not agree, he continued, some of you may believe that there is no discrimination, that we all live in harmony, the human and the meta-human. Then I ask, if that is so, why are there so many gangs on our streets? So many disenfranchised youths, neglected by the system and marginalised from our perfect society? Where is their place in our utopia other than under the boot of our so called protectors? Even in our places of work, we see the insidious nature of this man-made disease. You sir, what is your name?
He indicated a gentleman in the front of the crowd. He looked like any ordinary man in a suit aside from the fact that his skin was emerald green. Colin Shultz, he replied.
And what do you do?
Im an accountant.
An accountant? So tell me, do your colleagues refer to you by your name?
No, they dont.
What do they call you?
They call me Avocado Man, replied Mr Shultz, clearly nervous.
There was a murmuring from the crowd of disapproval. Byrne simply looked out at them, his arms spread in a gesture of futility. Is this fair brothers and sisters? he asked, to a vocal response. Where is the legislation preventing discrimination against our kind!? You sir, do you have a job?
No, replied the heavy set man, I used to work in Overbrook at a construction site until they discovered I had superhuman strength. Then they made me redundant, said I was making the other guys look bad.
The murmur from before returned, this time with more aggression behind it. Byrne continued on. Should we have to tolerate this my friends? How many other peoples mutations have excluded them from doing their normal jobs?
A sea of hands raised in response. And why is that? Because youre not fit to do them? Or because of fear? Because we are something different? Because we represent what they could never be!
A roar rose from the crowd. They were his.
I say this situation has gone on too long! he continued, his powerful voice booming through the warehouse. For too long have we been slaves to the Blanks, the normals! For too long have we been expected to fit in, to play ball, to not rock the boat. Well consider the boat rocked ladies and gentlemen! A cheer rose, the voices of those who felt excluded and unwanted.
What of the heroes!? came a voice.
What of them? came Byrnes retort. They are meant to protect us, to defend us and yet it is us, the meta-human community that they spend their time hunting! And why? Because we do not fit in with the Blanks! Because we do not conform to the standards of normality put in place by the Blanks themselves! These heroes are traitors to their kind! Filth I call them! They laud their meta-human heritage over us, so proud of the gifts that nature has given them, only to prostrate themselves before their Blank masters! I say SHAME on these traitors to their kind! Shame on them!
The roaring crowd applauded, jeers and shouts of support coming from them.
And I say tonight we make a change! continued Byrne, tonight we make our stand! Tonight we show this city that its freaks demand their rights! This is our city! And tonight, we take it back!
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk
Council holding area, Perez Park - Then
The Council's containment cells weren't built for comfort. Hank sat on the edge of a bed that was no more than a reinforced metal frame, pondering what idiotic course of action had led him to this. Of course the Council couldn't be trusted - he'd known that the day he signed up. Maybe I was hoping they didn't know?
His head pounded. Even the slightest movement was difficult. There was no fatigue, no real pain, no shortness of breath - just the slow, laborious effort. He'd been weak when he woke up here for the first time; hours, or days, or weeks ago, he couldn't tell. Now he felt as though every ounce of strength in his body had been sucked away, leaving only a dark, cold void at his very core...
...and where his heartbeat should have been, there was a deep, slow, mechanical pulse, as if some dark engine within his chest was struggling to keep ticking over...
The small window on his reinforced cell door slid open, and the familiar one-eyed visage of Archon Wilson came into view. The grizzled Archon made a brief visual sweep of the cell before nodding to someone to his left, and stepping aside to allow Dr. LeVine to take his place.
"And how are you feeling, Henry?" the doctor inquired, looking him up and down through the bars.
"What..." Hank took a deep breath, with effort. "What did you... do to me?"
"You were genetically compatible for a procedure that we are very excited about." LeVine smiled. "We upgraded you."
Hank stared at him. "This is supposed... supposed to be an improvement?"
"Well, of course, it won't feel like it just at the moment." LeVine shrugged. "You see... well, I take it you are familiar with Dr. Vahzilok's work in enhancing the human body?"
"You're talking about... those sorry-[censored] zombies?"
"Oh, no." LeVine chuckled at some private joke. "No, poor Demetrios' obsession with curing death has rather taken over, but the things he's achieved in trying... I was so close to making a truly spectacular new form of posthuman, far superior to the present design of Eidolon. Powerful creatures, you understand, but with such high maintenance needs. I calculated that they needed a better sort of power source, but I really couldn't get what I needed where I was. And then I came to an agreement with the Council..."
"Agreement. Yeah," Hank muttered through clenched teeth. "And you used me as a [censored] guinea pig."
"Medicine must advance, Henry." LeVine shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't thank me, but your new heart is only a prototype. I need you intact for further study, but once I iron out the flaws, the Council will have a new generation of super-soldiers. The future of humanity, Henry. If you cooperate, you may even live to see it dawn..."
Something dawned inside Hank's mind as the doctor spoke. An awareness of something that wasn't simple weakness and pain - a hollowness, a hunger -
LeVine cut off in mid-sentence as Hank toppled from the bed onto the hard concrete floor. "Get this door open!" he shouted. "Can't afford to let him die!"
The door swung open, and Archon Wilson pushed his way forward, grabbing Hank and hauling him upright. This gave Hank the height and leverage he needed to head-butt the giant Archon.
The blow landed with unexpected strength. Wilson staggered back, taken by surprise; Hank took the opportunity to grab the knife from the Archon's belt and swiped at his face, cutting above his good eye. Wilson roared, and lurched forward blindly, but Hank was already outside the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.
Hank advanced on the stunned LeVine, bloodied knife in hand. The hunger was stronger than ever - he was filled with a feverish strength, a desperate anticipation. "Now, Doc. You were sayin'...?"
The hunger reached out from within him, with fingers of empty darkness, and seized the terrified doctor.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
??????????????? - Then
"I didn't think you had it in you Sarah." he choked, punching his fingers through the bloodied holes in his chest just to make sure.
The young blonde girl let a gentle tear roll down her cheek. "I loved you..." she barely managed to whisper. She let the smoking gun slip down to rest in her lap. It was dark and candles lit the tiny cave with a yellow light that flickered with the wind. In the background the ocean could be heard sweeping up against the shoreline every now and then.
The man she'd shot dropped to his knees and choked up some blood mixed in with saliva over his bare chest. His eyes gazed skywards as he rubbed some onto his finger, then looked back at her and licked the sanguine mix with a malicious grin, his teeth red with his own blood.
"Thank y-" was all he could say before another loud shot rang out through the cavern. He fell backwards onto the sand, missing a large hole in his head.
Sarah began to weep uncontrollably, in mourning for a lost life... Wasted and futile, her effort to find happiness with a monster had consumed and destroyed everything that ever really meant anything to her. It was over now, she could be finally be free, his spell was broken. She could finally be with her parents.
On the beach outside, another shot burst from the cave, breaking the peace like a hammer to a mirror, Sarah was finally free...
She'd see her parents soon.
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
Third Degree
Ziggursky Exercise Yard Now
Freedom. Of a kind.
Lying back on a bench, Byrne effortlessly lifted the weights above him, his mind elsewhere. Hed left his days of boxing and amateur enforcement behind himself long ago, the dawn of his mutation seemingly distant. But his fitness, a point of pride for him, was still something he liked to maintain. There were plenty of other forty year olds in the Zig whod be happy to beat the snot out of him if he didnt stay in shape. And given the news brought to him by the mysterious Mr Dufresne and his even more mysterious employer, he was going to be needing his strength soon.
Byrne had visited the Etoile Isles once, many years ago. Hed heard that it was a place of tyranny and oppression but his general opinion of the place was very different to that reported by the Paragon newspapers. There was crime still, but at least it could be tackled head on. The philosophy of might decides right was very much in evidence, something of which Byrne wholeheartedly approved. At the least the people who were in charge deserved to be there, all having obtained office through their own efforts rather than pandering to the simpering niceties of those stupid enough to vote a coward into office. He had no love of their methods perhaps, what enforcement system existed served to merely uphold an oppressive police state. But innovation was rewarded, power and disruption embraced and those incapable of commanding were commanded. There was no peace perhaps, but there was definitely order.
He didnt enjoy the idea of being someones lackey though. He accepted it, knowing that true freedom was an illusion sold to the masses. There is always someone in charge, he reminded himself. He would play ball for now at least. As seemingly powerful as this Mr Mason was, everyone had their weak spots. As long as the work indicated by Mr Dufresne was tolerable and didnt compromise his ethics, hed obey.
All that remained was to get himself into D Block, no mean feat. D Block was designed to hold the most dangerous, most unstable criminals. Whereas most of the prison was able to cope with the regular criminals through the use of nullifier rifles and teleport drones, D Block was another matter. The cells were specifically tailored to nullify each criminals powers, the guards had license to kill and the AEDs* were posted throughout the complex, huge robotic monstrosities, 9 feet tall and armed with powerful concussion cannons. Byrne had remained placid and calm throughout his stay at the Zig, not wanting trouble. Now he would have to actively seek it if he stood any chance of getting in there.
Hed make his move soon, he figured. Looking up at the artificial lighting from the Zigs enclosed exercise yard, he promised that soon, these iron-grey walls would soon be a distant memory. It was then that a shadow loomed over him.
Move it old man, stated one of the younger thugs, obviously keen to claim his time on the bench.
Byrne placed the barbell back in place and stood up, raising himself to his full height. There was a clear 20 years difference between the two inmates but Byrne still remained dangerous. He drew close to the young upstart, others gathering in anticipation of a fight.
All yours, he stated calmly, stepping away from the bench. I think Im all done here anyway.
*AED = Automated Enforcement Drone
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk
WarpLocke
Then and Now
The world pulsed to Hank's heartbeat. Raw, primal energy filled His veins. Every nerve, every cell, was alive with power. He tossed the lifeless form of LeVine aside, and moved forward.
Soldiers came - His former comrades, no more reluctant to kill Him than anyone else they might have been set upon. It didn't matter. Right now, He was invincible. Bullets glanced off His glowing skin, and His punches connected with explosive power.
His escape passed in a blur of exultant violence. Whatever device had replaced His heart thundered triumphantly as it savoured the lifeforce that had been Levine's, lending its dark strength to its host. When He grew bored of destroying all in His path, He tore through an access hatch into the Perez park tunnel network, collapsing the path behind Him with a single punch. By the time the Council recovered from the onslaught enough to mount a search, He was long gone - freed into the city, a God among mere mortals...
The dream faded. Hank lay awake in his stark cell, bathed in the sickly glow of the gamma field, charging him with just enough power to keep his heart beating for one more day. The prison guards couldn't turn his powers off completely, not without killing him, but they'd put... something in him, to stop him from feeding on his fellow prisoners. And this was just high security. What they might do to him if he was moved to D Block...
The leap of faith. All or nothing. If Weaver had been lying, he was pretty much guaranteed of spending the rest of his days in this cage.
But the memory of that second file burned in his mind. Whatever Weaver was really up to, that hadn't been faked. That was the reason he was going to throw himself into the lion's jaws.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Nadja Romanov
Prison Laundry, Female Block, The Zig - Now
Prison was a difficult place to be alone. It had been two days since the librarian had passed Nadja the copy of Machiavellis The Prince, but finally she had stolen a few moments during lunch between two giant industrial dryers in the prison laundry. It would be five minutes tops before it was noticed she was missing.
A couple of missing words and errors in the text had revealed a code easy enough for Nadja to decipher. She removed the dust jacket and opened the book on the instructed page. After 30 seconds a red light glowed in the centre of the books spine. A cone of light. In the centre an image of Arbiter Kriegers ruined face.
Hello, Arbiter, said Nadja. This is
unexpected. That wasnt strictly true, the librarians comments and the clues in the book had already confirmed who the book was from. The only question was why.
Ms Romanov, I will keep this short and simple. This transmission will not remain undetected long.
Im listening, said Nadja.
I was impressed with your work for us, Ms Romanov.
Impressed? You neglected to tell me the mission was an assassination. And then your people left me to face the music.
I dont believe that is quite true. You chose to make a play for the Eye, is that not correct?
Nadja sighed. The loss of the Eye still gnawed at her like hunger. Lets not play games, Krieger. We both know the smart course of action for you was to leave me behind. Dead or alive. Im guessing dead if your pet crab spider had anything to do with it.
Thats the past, said Krieger bluntly. We can spend the remaining seconds we have discussing it or I can put a new offer on the table for you. One you would be foolish to spurn.
Ill be the judge of that, said Nadja, raising her defences. Lets hear it.
Ive spoken to Lord Recluse about you. He agrees with me that you are an excellent candidate for his latest recruitment drive.
You want me to join Arachnos? said Nadja in surprise. Im sorry, Krieger, but I prefer my prospects in here.
I dont believe you have any prospects in there. Stonefangs cubs are deadly serious about bringing his killer to justice. If you do manage to escape, they will hunt you down like the proverbial dog. Then you prospects will be death or giving them my name. And we both know the latter is just a death that will be a little longer in coming.
I didnt give you up, Krieger. Thats not my style.
Krieger smiled. Or at least it seemed like a smile obscured by scar tissue and ruined flesh. I know your style, thats why we want you. And I know you like to do things your way and signing up as a Night Widow may not seem compatible with that. But believe me, the right person can do very well for themselves within our ranks. Imagine what someone like you could achieve with Arachnos training and resources. Maybe you could finally make daddy proud.
Nadjas jaw tightened at the mention of her father. Shed seen him leaving her to do her own thing while her sister, Xenia, was kept close to him as an opportunity to prove herself. But so far, all she had achieved was incarceration and all the wrong kinds of attention. Maybe this was her chance.
Even if I was interested, Krieger, there is the small matter of me being in a maximum security prison, she said. Even if I beat the murder charge, I
Thats just a technicality. Just say yes and youll be in the Etoile Islands before you can spit.
Nadja weighed up the options. Perhaps if she waited it out her father would intervene but that would be freedom at a price of admitting she was a failure. She was a long way from ready for that.
She looked at the image of Krieger. Yes.
Good. Very good. Now listen carefully; there is little time and much to tell you.
@Romanov
Nadja Romanov, Lily Pink, Little Death - The Cadre
Estoque, Bastinado, Spidermonkey, Chic Doyle - The Militia
Miss Teen, Dead Reckoner, Dee Dee Diablo, Kaneko
Nadja Romanov
Female Block, The Zig - Now
Nadja lay back on her bunk running Kriegers escape plan in her mind again. It would be chaotic. But the reward of freedom, even freedom as a recruit to Arachnos, was worth the risk. She could here her cellmate breathing in the bed beneath her. Her few efforts to initiate conversation with her had resulted in nothing more than a few words. Shed requested to see the governor several times to remind him that she was supposed to be in a single cell. Admittedly she hadnt put her heart and soul into the blow job shed given him, but she was almost insulted that hed gone back on their arrangement so soon.
Officer Brenda Gillian knocked her keys on the bars politely before entering the cell. Youre lawyers here, Ms Romanov.
Nadja showed no emotion but her mind was racing. Her first thought was that it was her sister Xenia. Sure, she would do everything in her power to help but Nadja didnt want to be obligated to her. She felt a phantom twinge from the missing finger tip on her left hand. A reminder of the first and only time her little sister had scored a victory over her.
Tell her Ill be representing myself, Brenda.
Oh
ok
but its not a her. Its a him, replied the officer.
Nadja sat up. It could be a message from Krieger. Even her father. And in prison a simple distraction from the monotony was welcome in itself. Wait, Ill see him.
The officer beamed. Oh good. I can tell you all about my date with Dave on the way. It was amazing. We had cotton candy and
Dont tell me all at once, Brenda, said Nadja being as pleasant as she could. Its a long walk.
Oh
yes, said the officer. That reminds me, I left the make up and hair products in your cell after you gussied me up. And I was thinking, why did you need a steel comb? It was so much more expensive than the plastic
Nadja deliberately didnt look at the brick behind which the sharpened steel hairdressers comb was hidden. You shouldnt ask an artist to reveal all her secrets, Brenda. Did you have any complaints about how you looked? And more importantly did the handsome Dave? I bet he couldnt keep his hands off you.
Oh you! said Officer Gillian with a girlish giggle as Nadja took her arm and allowed herself to be led to the visiting rooms.
Seven minutes later Nadja entered the visiting room. It was a small room not much bigger than her cell. The brick walls were painted lime green and in the centre was a black table secured to the floor with a chair either side. Sitting in one of the chairs was a man of average build, average height in a mid-priced suit.
Please, take a seat, Ms Romanov, he said after dismissing Officer Gillian. Rest assured that this conversation is private. His accent was hard to place. Most people would have described it as local but Nadja could detect a Mid West lilt on some of the vowels.
She sat down and took a look at the lawyer. A scar ran from his left eye to the corner of his mouth. She couldnt tell if it was real. She guessed not. It was a common practice for someone who didnt want to be remembered to acquire a distinguishing feature. Then when people tried to describe him they wouldnt get much further than he had a scar or the dude had a sick tattoo.
He opened his brief case. Inside were several matchbooks from clubs in Paragon. She was certain hed left at least one at reception. Equally as certain that hed never visited any of those clubs in his life. So far, this guy had all the trappings of a low to mid level hustler.
Lets get introductions out of the way. I know who you are obviously. And my name is Paul Brown.
Nadja smiled. Lets cut the [censored], Mr Brown. Youre no more a lawyer than I am. If I had to make a guess Id say youre one of the Leagues ground level field agents and you think helping me is going to change that.
Brown shook his head. Im not in the employ of the League. I work for a businessman called Mr Mason. You wont have heard of him. But I am here to help you, that much is true.
Why is this Mr Mason interested in me?
Because you have
many skills. Most of them applicable to the position Mr Mason would like to offer you
Nadja breathed in and out slowly. I dont need job, Mr Brown.
Mr Brown looked at the table then back at Nadja. No, you already have an offer from Arachnos. But is that really a career befitting a Romanov? You were born to lead not serve, is that not how it goes?
Nadjas eyes were cold. She may not have been born to lead but since her father had found her she had been raised for it. Conditioned to survive. I think were done here.
Brown nodded. I understand. You are wise not to give away your plans to a stranger. But I believe that Mr Mason has a more agreeable offer. There is no harm in hearing it, is there?
Its your dime.
Good, replied Brown. Mr Mason is assembling a team, a cadre if you will, of skilled people to represent his interests on the Etoile Islands. He reached into his briefcase and spread several files and photographs on the table in front of Nadja.
Nadja glanced at the files. Zealots and monsters? she said. And what would my role be, babysitter?
Youre role would be what you make it, Ms Romanov. As long as Mr Masons interests are paramount there would be many profitable opportunities for someone like yourself. And Mr Mason is prepared to give youre a financial sweetener upfront.
Nadja raised her right eyebrow. Upfront? That suggests I have something Mr Mason wants. And whatever my skills, I think theres something more.
Brown nodded. Very astute. The breakout that your Arbiter Krieger is planning is how we plan to get this cadre of ours out of prison.
Of ours? said Nadja with a smile. It seems you cant do this without me so perhaps we should discuss this financial sweetener?
Oh we can do this without you, Ms Romanov, be under no illusions. But it is easier with you. $500,000 easier.
Nadja enjoyed this part of the game. Interesting starting offer.
Brown took another file from his case. Its the only offer, Ms Romanov. Please take a look.
Nadja opened the file. An icy chill washed over her and she digested its contents. Before she spoke she already knew she was going to accept the offer as even Arachnos couldnt protect her from that mistake.
Nadja sighed. That
that was then. This is now.
@Romanov
Nadja Romanov, Lily Pink, Little Death - The Cadre
Estoque, Bastinado, Spidermonkey, Chic Doyle - The Militia
Miss Teen, Dead Reckoner, Dee Dee Diablo, Kaneko
WarpLocke
The Zig - Now
The daily routine of prison life kept Hank from being conspicuous while he planned. The more he subtly asked around about the mythical depths of D Block, the more he wondered how he would make sure of his transfer. This was a place where monsters were caged - there were stories of immortal serial killers, men made from living sand, those who just couldn't be held by steel and concrete and power dampeners. From the details of the plan that Mr Weaver had explained to him, he didn't have time to form his own personal legend; all he could do was show them it was too dangerous not to lock him away in their deepest, darkest dungeon. Ordinary insubordination wasn't going to do that.
He was pondering the problem in the laundry room, taking his time with the task in hand, when he realised he was no longer alone. A group of six prisoners were circling around him, closing off his routes of escape. Hank stood, slowly, eyeing the men from behind his protective shades. "You lookin' for something?"
"Yeah," one of the men replied. "We're lookin' for a hero who was dumb enough to get himself locked away in here with us."
Thought one or two of these guys looked familiar. Hank nodded slightly. "And?"
"And word is, you used to go around in spandex calling yourself the Shining Shield. But you wouldn't know anything about that, right?"
Hank shrugged. "Don't believe everything you hear."
"Dumb [censored]!" The leader of the gang stepped forward. "You put us in here, all of us." He held up his arm; a badly-rendered tattoo of a skull adorned his forearm. "And now you fall right in here with us." He flashed an evil smile. "Guess karma gotta work in my favour once in while, huh?"
Hank shook his head. "Ain't no way this is in your favour, pal. Just walk away."
"We got a debt to settle up first." The gang leader reached out toward Hank. "For starters, I like the look of them shades - "
Hank caught his hand. "Don't. Touch."
The gang leader slammed his free hand into Hank's chest. Hank almost doubled over as the impact jarred his injuries, coughing violently. He could taste blood in his mouth. The gang leader laughed. "You sayin' something there, hero?"
Hank straightened up slightly, and spat a gobbet of black blood onto the gang leader's skull tattoo. The thug's disgust turned to horror and pain as the corrosive ichor started to burn his tattooed skin. "Holy - Jesus! What the hell are you?"
Hank stood to his full height, with effort; his vision was still a little blurry, but he couldn't show weakness. "You [censored] wanna dance, let's get it over with."
The attackers paused. They'd lost their momentum, no longer sure they had the upper hand. Their leader glanced back at them. "Well? C'mon! Kill this freak!"
A shrill noise sounded over the leaders command. The whistle descended, then rose in a pleasant tune as its owner rounded the corner. Striding into view was a tall black man, carrying one of the large laundry bags casually over his shoulder. He spotted the crowd and walked towards them, towering over the majority of the group.
Im in a very good mood, he announced to anyone who cared. I slept well, breakfast was edible for a change and I even managed to coax a smile out of the guards on A Block. I feel good! In fact, I feel so good that if anyone dared to ruin my mood, I might just have to ruin them. That would be only fair, dont you think gentlemen?
He smiled at them, a big, broad grin that both expressed extreme happiness and extreme violence for anyone who dared annoy him. The group, having briefly forgotten their prey knew exactly who the man was and what hed probably do to them if they decided to fight. Picking on a burning giant rather than a wounded vigilante was a slightly more worrying proposition. They began to drift away, along with mutters of whatever and laters.
As the last of them wandered back to work, he looked at the wounded man, the smile dropping off his face in an instant.
Dont get cornered again, he stated before hefting the laundry bag back onto his shoulder and walking away.
Hank wiped a smear of blood from his lips, smiling slightly as he watched his unexpected benefactor depart. "Don't you worry," he murmured to himself. "I already know there ain't no percentage in being prey."
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Tarana
Female Block, The Zig - Now
So that lawyer needed her in Cellblock D for her to escape?
Tarana lied down on her bunk listening to her cellmate on the bunk above her. At the sound of it she was reading a magazine of some sort. The woman had tried some conversation but Tarana hadnt been very talkative. And trusting anyone was still very strange and unreal.
How would she get to d block? It is solitary confinement for the hard to hold. By now she would qualify... still... Almost involuntarily her mind wanders to the first time she managed to get herself into solitary confinement.
Sickbay, The Zig Then
Slowly Tarana opened her eyes
The room was spinning, her vision still blurry. As the sedation began to work out she got a good view of the place she was in. But unfortunately that also meant that the pain came back. She tried to feel her sides where the pain originated
knowing it was very large burn wound but couldnt move her hands as they where bound to the table.
At the door she saw a huge male guard, a weird grin on his face every time he looked at her. Next to her bed was a nurse holding some cloned skin.
Let me loose
, she weakly spoke out.
Not on youre life sister
you touch the new skin and ruin it before it heals., the nurse answered.
No
Damn that hurt
, Tarana called out while starting to pull at her restrains. At that the guard walked up to her and held her arms down inhumanly strong. Keep quiet puppet
dont hurt yourself. Bolo is here. He said with a dark demanding voice.
The nurse finished up and placed new bandages. She tried to keep Tarana occupied by filling her in. You have been unconscious for a while. We had to sedate you as we began the procedures to replace the burned skin you had. Still incredible you dont have worse
The whole warehouse burned to the ground after the Paragon Police Force got you out of there. Try to relax please so you dont pullout youre infuse.
But Tarana didnt feel like relaxing at all
Still Bolo, who obviously had some superhuman strength, had her firmly still on the table. Then she saw the nurse inject some liquid in her infuse. Slowly all went black
Sedated, dizzy and barely awake she heard a phone. In her half-open eyes she saw the nurse leave the room. The door hardly closed or she felt Bolos hands on her skin. Bolo makes you feel good puppet., she heard him say. Realizing what he was doing Tarana tried to break loose. But sedated as she was she could hardly speak, let alone break the bounds. No
dont
stop
I get you for this
I swear
, she whispered. Then his hand held some cloth against her mouth and all went black again.
She can be brought to her cell., the nurse said. Tarana woke up
violated
pain in regions where there where no burn wounds. While two guards unbound her she looked around very carefully for her violator but couldnt find him around. Anger growing high
but keeping a cool appearance for the time being they walked to her cell.
The rest of the week all she could think about was Bolo. That and getting her strength back. The latter going extremely fast. Her hatred fueling her will to survive. Then, five days after her release of sickbay, she saw him.
He was on guard duty on the exercise yard. Tarana saw him from afar while she was training with some dumbbells. She didnt hesitate for a minute and grabbed one of the large iron bars from the rack. Walking to Bolo some of the other guards noticed where she was going even before her target was. One tried to hold her grabbing her arm. The bar landed hard on his skull. Blood came out of his eyes and he was dead before hitting the ground.
Then all hell broke loose. Guards from all over the yard came storming towards them. Electric shockers ready. The closest one fired at her. For a moment she was paralyzed by the shock. Then she grabbed the man who was too close for his own comfort and she broke his neck. Tarana grabbed the shocker and placed it straight on the third guard his heart and fired. The man went into cardiac arrest almost immediately.
Now close enough she jumped forward hitting Bolo with the bar in his crouch. Super strong as he was, he obviously wasnt invulnerable and he collapsed to his knees. She placed the iron bar around Bolos neck and shifted her body. Other guards fired. The electricity hitting Bolo point-blank. The jolt she felt nonetheless made her even angrier but didnt let her loosen her grip. Then he collapsed choking. Tarana pulled the bar even harder till she heard his neck snap and his breathing stop.
A shot was heard echoing against the yard walls. And Tarana felt a sudden pain in her shoulder. She looked up and saw the sniper just before at least five stun beams took her down. Stunned, bound and gagged they dragged her towards solitary confinement
Kicking and hitting her all the way. But she couldnt be bothered with it
a grin appeared on her face knowing her violator didnt survived.
Now hated by the guards and an obvious security risk she wasnt to be let out of solitary any time soon. After a while her wounds healed. To her surprise even the burn wounds. Although some small scar tissue remained. Being separated from other humans, and especially men, was a relieve for her though. And the constant training she did helped suppress the rest.
- The Italian Job: The Godfather Returns #1151
Beginner - Encounter a renewed age for the Mook and the Family when Emile Marcone escapes from the Zig!
- Along Came a... Bug!? #528482
Average - A new race of aliens arrives on Earth. And Vanguard has you investigate them!
- The Court of the Blood Countess: The Rise of the Blood Countess #3805
Advanced - Go back in time and witness the birth of a vampire. Follow her to key moments in her life in order to stop her! A story of intrigue, drama and horror! Blood & Violence... not recommend to solo!
Tarana
Steel Canyon - Then
Silently Tarana moved a little higher up the crates so she could she who and where her follower was. Then she saw her. It was only a skinny chick, not much bigger then 54, wearing a beaten up leather jacket, jeans and sneakers. She had a shock of purple hair that she kept brushing out of her hair with her free hand as she held a switchblade tight.
Tarana grabbed the case with money closer. Then made a decision. She pressed her shoulder against one of the higher crates. It was heavy but slowly started to inch forward. The purple-haired girl was standing right under it. The crate creaked as Tarana gave it one final shove over the edge. It hit the floor hard, shattering open in an explosion of splinters and packing material.
The purple-haired girl had jumped clear just in time.
Damn you, Tarana muttered to herself. Come out little girl, she called while jumping down to the ground.
The girl looked at Tarana with a mixture of shock and anger. Are you [censored] mental? That nearly hit me. Look at those splinters, you could have had my eye out!
Outside a male voice called out above the fighting, reacting to the sound of the falling crate. Are you all right in there. Dee? It was the Hellion leader Flashfire, but he didnt come in to check yet.
Yeah, Im fine. You just take care of those Trolls, they give me the creeps!
Oh no you arent! Tarana hissed
The girl shrugged to Tarana. Dont you think this is kind of sexist anyway? Because were girls we have to fight each other. And I bet theyd watch if they could. I mean, Im not even technically in the gang, but if I were you Id be insulted. Just look at me, youre like twice my size, its not really a fair fight.
"For god's sake will you shut up and get out of my way!" Tarana said while she grabbed the girl and threw her into one of the crates. She screamed as she fell awkwardly. Her knife clattered on the floor.
The girl tried to stand, cradling her arm, which looked broken. What the hell? Youve broken my [censored] arm
Im a musician, you freak. And where do you get off being that strong? Oh, I get it, youre a like a guy, right? What a [censored] epitaph, here lies Dee Dee Diablo, beaten to death by an angry transsexual.
Tarana could tell the girl was in pain. It was rising in her eyes. Noone talks to me that way... purple... no one! Tarana hissed to her raising her right fist.
The blow didnt land. Several things happened in a heartbeat. The sound of wailing sirens could he hear outside. Tarana felt hot searing pain over her arms, face and chest. Burning notes from Taranas case fluttered around her like glowing moths.
[censored]! Oh [censored]! she called out. The leather she was wearing stopped the full impact of the flames but the skin of her arms stung and the scent of her own burning hair filled her nostrils. She gasped for breath as if the air around her had suddenly been stolen.
The purple-haired Hellion girl was sitting unharmed amidst the burning wreckage of the crate Tarana had thrown her into. Her face was a mask of disbelief. Then fear. She scrambled to her feet and ran out of the warehouse.
Tarana beat the flames then dropped to the ground and rolled. Smoke filled her lungs and it was only the pain of burning that kept her from losing consciousness.
She cracked her head. As she felt the jarring cold water from the warehouse sprinkler system fall on to her raw skin, everything went black.
- The Italian Job: The Godfather Returns #1151
Beginner - Encounter a renewed age for the Mook and the Family when Emile Marcone escapes from the Zig!
- Along Came a... Bug!? #528482
Average - A new race of aliens arrives on Earth. And Vanguard has you investigate them!
- The Court of the Blood Countess: The Rise of the Blood Countess #3805
Advanced - Go back in time and witness the birth of a vampire. Follow her to key moments in her life in order to stop her! A story of intrigue, drama and horror! Blood & Violence... not recommend to solo!
Third Degree
Kings Row Warehouse - Then
Standing on top of a packing crate, Byrne looked down at the assembled rabble as they armed themselves. Having riled the group into a frenzy, it had been the right time to uncover the various boxes assembled around them, revealing numerous automatic weapons. They had grabbed them eagerly, ready to follow him anywhere. He disliked guns, but the people marching with him were not soldiers and they would need all the help they could get. The deal hed brokered for the weapons had been a sweet one, securing him enough guns to equip his militia well. Once they had loaded up, hed jumped to his current vantage point, ready to inspire them once more.
People! he cried, appealing to them, You have taken the first steps to a new world! To reclaiming this sorry city for those who should rightfully run it, us! The meta-humans! There will be blood, I promise you, but above all, there will be change! Arm yourselves well brothers and sisters, for tonight we march on City Hall!
A roar went up from the crowd as they waved their weapons in the air. A few even fired off a couple of rounds into the ceiling in excitement. For a moment, it seemed as if it was all going to work out beautifully. And then everything went white.
Floodlights streamed through the warehouse windows, illuminating the scene as the corrugated doors rolled upwards. Byrne blinked in the light, able to see several vehicles parked outside, their lights streaming past a hundred figures with raised weapons. A voice sounded from near the door and he peered up to see a woman with blue wings hovering nearby. Something like a heat haze surrounded her, twisting the bright white light into shifting fractal patterns.
All of you, throw down your weapons! she demanded, This building is surrounded! Julius Third Degree Byrne, stand down immediately!
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he recognised the hovering spokeswomen. She had been present in the crowd he had preached to, she had cheered along with the others as he delivered his sermon. And now she hovered, revealed, a mole
betrayed by his own kind. The rage filled him in an instant.
TRAITOR!! he bellowed as the air around him erupted into flames. He leapt into the air, attempting to cover the distance between himself and the undercover police officer. She was too fast though and flitted out of the doors behind the cover of a dozen PPD officers in Shell Suits. He landed in front of them as a number of the protesters opened fire and the battle was joined. Riot officers swarmed through the door, quelling the mass of armed zealots who attempted to either fight or flee. Several heavily armed officers tried to stop Byrne who tore into them, smashing armour, faces, bones. PPD officers fell away from him, burning as his rage raised the temperature around him to unbearable levels. The fire consumed him, devouring his rational mind. In front of him there were just bodies, all who needed to be destroyed. He twisted necks, broke backs, snapped bones, watching as the pathetic Blanks fell.
Ill kill you! Ill kill you all! he raged as officers swarmed around him. He felt something hit him in the back of the neck, followed by a heavy object which connected with his head. He stumbled and recognised a tranquiliser as it fell from his neck. He tried to resist but the dart had been loaded with enough to down an elephant. He fell to his knees as the powerful drugs rushed through his veins. Officers descended upon him, his vision filled with nothing more than blue. And then the blue turned to black and then there was nothing.
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk
Hank Delacroix's cell
The Zig - Now
Hank sat on the bed in his cell after lights-out, studying the pair of protective shades held in his hands. He'd spent his life moving from place to place, knowing that each new home, each new job was just a step on a long path. The same had to be true of what was coming, but he knew it might be a long time before he was free of this "Mason" character. Just not as long as he'd be stuck in this cage if he hadn't been made an offer he couldn't refuse.
Tomorrow, it would be time. He'd asked a few questions of the right people, and picked out a place; only one locked door to contend with, and it was nothing special. Tomorrow, he'd make his leap of faith. Until then...
He carefully prised the housing of the dark glasses until he was able to slip the left eyepiece out of its frame. He'd idly wondered, when he realised the lenses were actual glass, whether the doctor who'd provided them was an ally of some sort; an early token of Mason's generosity? Or perhaps the Ziggurat's regular clientéle just weren't quite this creative, not the ones used to crushing skulls with their bare hands. Either way, it was time to leave his mark.
He slid the sharpened edge of the glass across his fingertip, moving it away quickly before it could be stained. Black blood dripped from the wound, splashing in tiny smoking puddles on the floor as he rose and walked over toward the exposed concrete wall where past occupants had scratched or carved or chiselled their names over the years.
The name of Hank Delacroix would not remain in this cell, though, any more than it had remained in any of a hundred other places across the States. He needed people to forget it, not immortalise it. For as long as his stay in the Rogue Isles was going to last, his legend would grow under a different name.
He traced out the letters with his bleeding fingertip, etching out tiny indentations as his blood stained the concrete:
"WarpLocke".
He liked the way it sounded.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Black Golem
??????????? - Then
Many decades had passed in the cavern since Sarah had taken back her life and then ended it on her own terms. An echo from the crashing waves outside filled the hollow room in which their bodies lay, decayed and formless.
The unholy cave was filled with a death shroud so thick that now only their bones remained, and even they crumbled and melted into a layer of dust.
"You have entered the realm of the Chosen.
Your name shall never again be spoken.
Until the end of time you shall be known as Rak'ha... THE BLACK GOLEM!!"
A bright neon blue glow blasted from the cave entrance along the shore, causing the the volcanic black sand on the beach to glisten as if it mimicked the nights sky.
Within the cave, the source of the Magical light dimmed, as the sand where Rak'ha's body had laid pulsated with an energy unlike anything of this world.
Slowly, and cautiously, a form from the sand began to emerge, absorbing the new life-force unto itself, it crawled and then ambled up the rocks to freedom.
Miami, Florida - Then
"I have come from a distant land to harvest your souls." Rak'ha announced, sounding like an inward breathing demon
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!" hundreds of young men and women screamed for their lives, in futile bids for freedom they tried to escape him, but there was nowhere to run. Their hillside villa could not hide them for long for he would track them to every inch of their house. Even in the outlying gardens, no mortal man could outrun such a monster infused with such darkness and spawned from such hatred.
He would wait for them to reach the very peaks of human fear, anger and desperation before cutting them down for her, and while the emotional exstacy was for his own pleasure she no doubt enjoy it too.
326 died that evening, and it would be the Black Golem's undoing.
For one brave and kindred soul... 326 lives lost were 326 lives too many.
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
Tarana
Canteen, Female Block, The Zig - Now
Tarana stood in line to get her breakfast. Looking around she was again amazed with the diversity of inmates the Zigg had. It was all a bit strange to her. Suddenly she was pushed aside by a huge aquatic woman or creature. At least a head larger then she was. As Tarana was already almost 7' that was real huge.
The obvious meta-human looked at her for a second as if she should be happy to let her step in. Tarana felt a rage come up... she hated meta-humans alright, but being treated like this was even worse. She tapped him on his shoulder... "Move it, Sushi-[censored]! Get to the end of the line...", she said with a firm voice.
The woman turned around and gave Tarana a fast poke on the chest. At that moment Tarana grabbed her finger and gave a firm twist... breaking it. A scream of pain and a loud curse followed almost immediatly.
In two seconds three guards walked up to her. "What the hell do you think you're doing lady!", one said while standing in front of her with an electro hocker ready.
The other inmates where forming a circle, some where screaming "Fight! Fight!"
The blue woman was growling with anger and pain. Around her where several guards too. "Get her back to her cell, and this one... get her to the sickbay."
One of the guards addressed the crowd... "Oke, show is over. Back to you're own business!"
The meta-human looked at Tarana and screamed "Rorqual is going to get you for this [censored]! You will regret this! You will regret this for sure!" The guards shocked her and she squinced for a second. Then she was escorted to the sickbay.
- The Italian Job: The Godfather Returns #1151
Beginner - Encounter a renewed age for the Mook and the Family when Emile Marcone escapes from the Zig!
- Along Came a... Bug!? #528482
Average - A new race of aliens arrives on Earth. And Vanguard has you investigate them!
- The Court of the Blood Countess: The Rise of the Blood Countess #3805
Advanced - Go back in time and witness the birth of a vampire. Follow her to key moments in her life in order to stop her! A story of intrigue, drama and horror! Blood & Violence... not recommend to solo!