Fantasy [Extinction Event; Ancient Whispers] Remastered

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Extinction Event; Ancient Whispers ​

"The things we do to each other, only to benefit ourselves."

The low hum of the synthetic agri-filters hummed all throughout the edges of Nutopia's gargantuan atmos-sphere; the daunting and nigh-indestructible glass globe that separated Earth's noxious fumes from the megacity. They drove moisture from within the dirt into the air, collecting dew against every artificial blade of grass in the early morning mist. It wasn't long before it'd clumped into clouds far at the top of the crystalline structure, and turned into purified rain that fell back down over streets, buildings, and impossibly complex megastructures all the same.

The red light of peacekeeper helmets bobbed back and forth throughout the underhives and ghettos. Mothers prepared lunches or getting their children out of bed in the peaceful suburbs of the middle-class. In the megaspires of the corporate lords and sycophants, a tired administrator tries vainly to stave off the black rings under his eyes with his fifth cup of coffee. It's just like every other mundane morning - yet, to a select few, it is anything but.

Welcome to the end of the world.
​

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Kyros Echnaton
“How the enrapturing young god,
Tired from his journey,
Bathed his youthful hair in the golden clouds.”

| The Nutopian Grand Cathedral of Sol | 6.03AM - September 2nd - 2403 |​

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Kyros hands rested neatly folded atop his artificial mahogany desk. His eyes were absent, swimming in thought somewhere far from the rhythmic ticking of his wrist watch. The office, for all its red tapestries and carpets, fancy cupboards and chairs, was still so large that it echoed in the deafening silence he'd commanded. Twelve men stood so rigidly still in front of him that they could've been mistaken for statues, if it wasn't for the beads of sweat awkwardly rolling down half of their foreheads. You could hear a pin drop.

It'd been a few days since he first began sensing certain other presences within certain parts of the city. Other individuals that somehow both seemed extremely familiar and completely foreign all at the same time. At first it had confused him. In spite of his overinflated ego he knew to be suspicious of his own mind playing tricks on him, but after a bit of experimentation he realized that these "hunches" - fantastical as they seemed - were verifiable real. In fact, after collecting some information on a few of the individuals where the phenomenon presented itself, he realized that could indeed accurately sense their direction regardless of his orientation. His followers had hailed it as yet another product of his budding divinity, but Kyros was more suspicious.

It had appeared they were both right. Soon after abandoning his breakfast out of a lack of appetite, the clock had struck six AM and an ethereal shock wave had passed through his entire body. A primordial echo played in his mind's ear, a command and a mission so painfully clear that it'd had given him - the unshakeable patriarch of the Echnaton family - pause. Everything made sense to him now, even the realization that the uncanny senses he'd been experiencing must've been some premature ignition of the power he now felt inside of himself. The "budding divinity" taken shape, so to speak. In a moment of awe he'd lashed out with an arm and shouted for the whole room to silence themselves, as if just the lingering memory of the voice in his head was enough to throw his meek, mortal thoughts into disarray.

"Forgive my harsh tone, Conrad. It appears the day of our collective destinies have finally come to pass." He finally broke the silence. Before the desk a stout, short man dressed in a lavish suit was visibly relieved, but equal amounts confused. "Of course my lord, but what do you mean 'our destinies'?" With slow, meaningful movements Kyros expectantly held up his right hand, whereupon a servant quickly shuffled up to his side and placed a cut cigar into it. As his cold gaze wandered up to meet Conrad's eyes, he placed it to his lips and the servant produced a polished gold lighter for him to use. "I've received a message clearer than any other." As if to underline his words, a draft with no origin blew through the room, flickering the candles on the walls. The eyes of his contemporaries, bishops, and closest advisors all grew to the size of saucers as they witnessed Kyros' own irises flicker with pale light as the tip of his cigar burst into embers of its own volition.

As they all gasped for words, he stood up suddenly enough to cause the servant at his side to jump. He couldn't lie, seeing the shock and awe in the eyes of his followers was extremely satisfying - especially those few he'd always suspected lied about their shared faith in the Glory of Sol, though even they had a part to play. He couldn't help but smile. The belief that there would a day when the Sun's rays rained upon the world and the Temple of Sol would march like one to reclaim humanity's purity was an old one, ingrained into the very spine of the faith since it's infancy, and finally Kyros - and nobody else - would be the one to set the work of his ancestors into action? It was practically euphoric. A mild summer's warmth began suffusing the room, leaking into the very bones of his followers and filling them with joy and determination.

"The day of reckoning is upon us, my children, and we shall see to it that Sol accepts all of humanity with open arms. Augustus," He pointed to a robed man with several medals stitched around the shoulder of his traditional clothing, "prepare the Paladins of The Temple, and call for all the Knighthood Brothers to instate themselves." Augustus, still in awe at the sudden tangible divinity of his master, quickly contained his emotions and saluted the High Saint. "Yes, your holiness!" Kyros turned his gaze back to Conrad. "It is time to initiate the plan I mentioned. It appears I'm not the only one in a race for divinity." Conrad nodded with conviction, and immediately turned on his heel to exit the office and begin making the preparations. "The rest of you may leave, but remain on high alert. I have many things that require tending to, and if ever there was a time I'm sure the megacorporations are going to take offense, it's now."

It seemed it was going to be a very long day.

THE ROLEPLAY HAS NOW STARTED! Plutoni Meredith kasigi Merciless Medic NecromancerNight StarPrincessVal

 

[StarPrincessVal]

Elizabeth Mallory
6:05 a.m. Elizabeth Mallory's Penthouse


​

Elizabeth stared at the corpse resting against her exposed form as she reclined in the bathtub, wine glass in one hand, the other holding the body to her. She was the most beautiful girl, woman, Elizabeth had ever seen. Or at least that she could recall seeing. Seventy years was a long time. She had seen many people. Men and women, fresh and prime, warm and cold. Some people looked better cold, their personalities damaging their potential for beauty. This girl, Jessie or Jenny or something, had been beautiful through out, so lively and hopeful and kind. She was a descent employee too, one of the best secretaries Elizabeth had ever hired. She would have to find a replacement, and the thought saddened her. No one wants to replace their favorite painting or vase, even if they were the ones that destroyed it. She lifts a handful of the girls hair to her face and breathes deeply, taking in everything about her. It smells like sunlight, like childhood. Two things Elizabeth hadn't experienced in a long time. Leaning down, she kisses the girl's cheek resting her lips on her for a moment, savoring their final embrace.

"Liz?" The girl stirs, and Elizabeth releases her hair. That was right, she hadn't killed her yet. "Sorry, Liz, I must have fallen asleep." Elizabeth kisses the back of her head. "It's alright, love. I didn't mind holding you." Reaching down, she hands the girl her glass of wine. "Tell me about yourself again, love. I love listening to you talk. You wanted to be a graphic designer, right? That was why you were attending college?" The girl laughs and turns to kiss Elizabeth. "Why are you saying it like that? I'm still going to college and I still want to be a graphic designer. I told you when you hired me I didn't plan on stopping just because I got the job." Elizabeth smiles at her. "Forgive me, love. You know how I can be. Rejuvenation treatments don't revitalize an absent mind. That's why I need you." The girl giggles and sips her wine. "Don't we need to leave soon? It won't look good if we're late. I don't want people thinking you're giving me special treatment." Elizabeth laughs. "I am giving you special treatment. Besides, you're not Noctis Cosmetics secretary. You're my secretary. You're already clocked in." The girl smiles and intertwines the fingers of her free hand with Elizabeth's. "Then as your secretary, I must insist that we hurry to get ready to leave. You have a board meeting today." Elizabeth frowns and sighs. "Actually, love, I need you to cancel everything for me for today. Something's come up." The girl turns around and looks at Elizabeth, a confused look on her face. "When did this happen, we've been together since last night, when I finalized your schedule. What's come up?" Elizabeth smiles and gently eases the girl back into a resting position. "The end of the world." The girl looks at the wine glass in Elizabeth's hand and giggles. "I think maybe you've had to much, I don't get the joke." Staring off at nothing, Elizabeth sighs. "Neither do I."

In one swift motion Elizabeth shatters the wine glass in her hand, while wrapping her free hand around the girls mouth. She runs a shard of glass across her throat, sending blood spraying all over the bathroom. The girl convulses and chokes into Elizabeth's hand as she holds her tightly against her body. She kisses the top of the girls head as she holds her, gently rocking back and forth, making shushing sounds as the girl continues to choke. Tears flow from Elizabeth's eyes. She had really loved the girl. Just not enough it seemed. Finally the girl lay still in the now red water. Elizabeth moves her lips to the open wound on the girls neck and licks the flowing blood off her soft warm pale skin. She thinks back to the vision she'd had earlier. She didn't know what else to call it. She had "seen" or "felt" a calling. The world would be ending and it was up to her to see that it did. There were others who would try to take it from her, but just like the angel that lay dead in her arms, killing it was her responsibility. She wouldn't let anyone else have that honor.

 

[Plutoni]

ROMAN
✧

LOCATION
6:01 a.m. | Union Grand General Hospital

TAGS
-

The wet shine of his scalpel was all his eyes would focus upon. The blade had stilled, inserted where it was within the open abdomen of the man heavy and unconscious upon his operating table, the mirrored reflection of the floodlight above them slowly sliding up and down the steel grip as the rise and fall of his chest carried it with it. Blood was pooling quickly on the bench. It was silent amongst the steady noise of machinery, the muffled breathing of his assistant beside him as she held the dish already scattered with dark, sticky pieces of shrapnel.

"...Doctor?"

Roman felt his eyes beginning to water.
A white, searing thrill had ignited in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't move, couldn't quite speak as he felt it suffusing up his spine. It was an ecstasy that the very word felt too pale, too thin to describe, and it hurt - his very insides were being purified by boiling water, left wracked and vulnerable by the first shockwave. His cheeks were wet.

"Dr. Halpine, is there a prob-"

He pulled out the scalpel, letting it clatter upon the dish, and calmly began to peel the white latex gloves from his hands. A warning flashed upon the hologram screen before him. Somewhere far from him his assistant's muted worry could be heard, but there was no edge of panic in her voice like there once should've been, not even as blood levels began to flash [CRITICAL]. No fear soured the bright air of the emergency room as his patient's heart began to fail. Only the sound of two gloves dropped wetly to the floor, and Roman plunged both bare hands into the viscera.

The hot, pulsing fragility of a life. He could almost taste it, bite into it, so real and tangible did it feel to him in that moment, the sweet and bitter undertones. He hadn't expected it to be so dim. A small, smoking tallow candle, faint and impure beside the erupting wildfire of his own soul. The distant fires lighting up in his mind's eye. It was strangely endearing as it sputtered. He smiled. He delicately slid his fingers upwards, feeling the sluggish contractions of the man's heart jump up into his touch. His mercy.

As Roman gently withdrew his hands, last pieces of metal grasped between his fingers, the man before him stabilised. The frantic beeps subsided, and red vitals slowly suffused back into green. The shrapnel fell from his loosened grip as if forgotten. He stood there for a moment, yellow eyes unseeing, before turning on his heel.

"Doctor, wait-"

He was already through the door, one great bloody handprint left on the pass. All the little people stared as he strode down the centre of the hallway, hands dripping blood that shone black under the sterile lights. A small, beatific curl to his smile, glazed vision - he'd always known. Ascension had come for him, and how his heart shook with it. He fell to his knees on the street in the cool morning drizzle, arms limp by his sides, his scrubs and undershirt quickly beginning to cling to his shoulders. The rain almost felt humorous in his daze. The city had already begun to be cleansed.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Reginald Burkhardt​

Date: September 2, 2403 | 6:00 am
Location: Underground Top Security Research Government Facility, Delta-23 Omega-00
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: N/A

“Damn it all…”

A growl, followed by the clattering of a screwdriver, the metal shaped rod hitting the ground first as it was flung from a now clenched hand. Its fingers ran through the white hairs of its owner, gripping them as if to anchor onto something tangible. Clenched teeth drew in a sharp hiss. Body doubled over, knees against his heaving chest. A migraine sundered his focus, like an earthquake toppling the organized towers of file cabinets within his mind, burying himself in paper ideas and memories.

He looked over at the time, but the digital glowing numbers weren’t his focus anymore, as it turned to something else. His migraine gave something else, the pain subsiding.

A tug. Like an idea. A thought not of his own, whispering to him as if from the cosmos above.

Slowly looking up, the grey eyes glazed over the bipedal pilotable machine he was building, then up to the fluorescent humming lights, casting the cold, grey, concrete floor and metal walls in a pale blue glow.

The stars… He had to see them.

“Um, sir-”

The voice was but a mere echo in the vast emptiness of the head scientist’s mind. He ignored his subordinate, climbed up the metal stairs, up the elevator as it glided up the shaft. As those doors opened, he swore a religious man would have saw those doors as the pearly white gates of heaven with the way the dumbfounded scientist stared into the beyond.

Stepping out of the elevator, his gaze flew skyward. The morning sun was creeping up, but he could still see the tiny pinpricks in the golden, purple sky. Stars…

They spoke to him. No, that wasn’t the correct word. He could feel them. Or maybe it was something else.

A guard, dressed in militech armor and holding a rifle, strolled up to the white-haired scientist, staring at the white lab coat stained with grease and oil. “Reginald, sir. Captain Burkhardt. You okay?”

“Yes…” His voice, raspy, airy, was nearing a chuckle. “Yes, I am more than okay…” Not a moment after, raucous laughter escaped him. Lungs begged for air as he howled, but he continued amidst his quivering gasps of air. He fell on his knees, grey eyes staring at a whole new world above him. Even as the sun rose from its bed in the horizon, he can still somewhat see them. Light pollution be damned, he felt something awaken inside of him. A voice - sounding empty, yet filled him with a renewed purpose - came from the void of space before it was swallowed up by the rays of the incoming sun.

"The cycle ends. It is time for Divinity to be gathered whole once more. Retake what is yours, and do not waver."

Immediately, the dreadful awareness that he wasn’t alone in this world awoke within him a desire - no, a primal need - to discover. To learn. The existential dread only furthered his maniacal laughter to nothing but silent wheezes, harsh gasps, and tears falling from his face.

The guard watched Reginald’s awakening with wide eyes, the man before him - seemingly broken - regathered himself and stood back up. Without looking in his direction, Reginald spoke, voice hoarse from his glee. “This epiphany... I am not alone in this world… I need a short break for the day. Let the others work on our machine. When it’s done, call me. My burner phone’s number is on the whiteboard in the rec room.”

“Sir, where will you be going…?” The guard dared to ask.

Reginald peered over at him, a dangerous glimmer full of life in those once dead, grey eyes. “To celebrate… With a coffee.”

Date: September 2, 2403 | 7 am
Location: Café -> Abandoned Shed
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Arden
kasigi

A café was normally not so quiet to stay in. Too many people, fights would break out in the streets if you went to a particularly bad plaza, and the coffee was usually shit.

But no, that wouldn’t do. For an hour, he had taken his black motorcycle and drove it around the city. He kept feeling that undeniable ping of someone near. Someone he knew all too well.

Certainly, he wouldn’t be like him, would he? Surely not. Fate would be too good of a merciful comedian.

However, it wasn’t lost on him that his hunting grounds had this uncanny sensation that someone was there that was like him. He couldn’t exactly tell who it was or where he was, but he knew this sensation - this other being - had to be in his gang.

Surely, if Reginald was pretty good and a leader despite his flippant attitude and missing scientists under him, this other being must also be similar in a way. Maybe he was a second-in-command, or a captain. Or the leader…

No, no. Too on the nose. He can feel dozens of other sensations around the city, as well. Either way, his driving was going to cause those who were like him to find him, but this was a part of his plan. And now that his very being felt awakened, he needed to reach out within himself.

Stopping at a quieter plaza, he parked his bike and walked inside. For a sharply dressed individual wearing an all black suit and white tie, he looked like a corpo. The barista tended to him and gave him his black coffee, setting it down in front of him. The warmth of the coffee seeped into his skin as he held it, and he stared at the liquid through the hole of the lid.

Black.

He felt as if the eye of the void was staring back at him from within the cup.

…

He grinned wildly. “If the void blinks back, what does that make me?” He uttered to himself. No one answered him.

Probably for the better.

“It means you may be god.” Oh? Reginald looked up, the barista giving him a kind smile. Rosy cheeks, red hair, green eyes, skin tan and freckled as if the sun couldn’t keep its lips off of her.

“How… Fascinating…” Reginald looked down at his cup, smirking. He took a sip of the void who blinked back at him, the bitterness overtaking his mouth, but it cleared his mind.

He looked at his hands. His pale, smooth hands. Somehow not calloused from the work of shuffling through papers, filling out reports, and playing with mechanical pieces and parts to make a toy. A dangerous toy. Many dangerous toys. A shadowy wisp flew past his hand, as if caressing it gently before disappearing. Brows furrowed, he focused on it. He flexed his fist, and the shadow wisp returned.

He remembered the stars. The cosmos. They spoke to him.

“Name a constellation.” He uttered simply. The barista, unsure if he was still talking to her, forced out a reply.

“... Leo.”

Reginald can feel the power inside of him, and he focused on it. It grew. Surging like the dark sea. It welled within his hand, but it required so much effort to be shown. The shadows cloaked his hand, but it barely gave him the impression of long lion claws before vanishing completely. He stared at his hand, almost blankly.

The woman saw the shadows before her creep upon the man’s skin, and her green eyes looked up at him with concern. Grinning, Reginald looked up at her, seeing the fear in those pretty green eyes of hers.

Oh, how wonderful she looked.

“You are coming with me.” He said, his grey eyes becoming darker. “Isn’t the job of a barista in this lonely café boring anyway? You need to live your life full of adventure.”

The woman didn’t know what to say. Her lips parted, then closed, then she stuttered out a response. “U-uhm… I don’t know who you are, or… Anything, but yeah, it’s a bit boring here.”

Reginald’s eyes narrowed, and his grin grew impossibly wider. He stood up, extending his hand to her. “My dear, you need a bit of fun in your life. Come with me. And don’t worry about needing to subsist on a paycheck.” She held up her hand, shakily making its way towards his. But he suddenly grabbed it, pulled her, his voice rang deeply through her mind as he spoke in her ear. “Isn’t that what you want? A sugar daddy?” If it weren’t for the way she stared at his suited figure instead of working on cleaning her scoops and cups, he wouldn’t have ever known it would be quite so easy.

The woman had to bite back a whimper. She pulled herself away, stepping back and hitting the counter behind her. Her eyes darted around, but there was nobody else here. She looked at the register, and sighed. “Y-yeah... Okay.”

“Atta girl.” He cooed. “But don’t come with me just yet.” The barista looked at him confused. He spied the name tag clipped to her apron, then leaned against the dark counter top on his elbows. “Sally. Come with me in… Well, I’ll come get you when I have the time. I have an important friend I have to meet soon, and I don’t know how he’ll react to seeing you. I want to at least make sure you’re safe. But once I do come by, get yourself ready and take any of the funds you’ll need from the café. I doubt your boss will mind. Especially since this café will cease to exist in the coming days.”

The girl looked at him in astonishment. What? How did he know that? Did he just have foresight, or was he a sort of god like she teased him about earlier? Sighing, she anxiously wrung her hands on her apron, nodding. “Okay. Don’t leave me here for too long, Mr….”

“Mr. Burkhardt. But you may just call me Reginald.” With a charming grin a crazed scientist could muster - which still had the woman’s cheeks turning pink - he finished his cup, and slid off the chair. He smoothly walked out of the café, then set his sights on the territory of that one blaring life form.

“If it really is you… I hope you’re reasonable.” He uttered to no one in particular. He hopped on his bike, the lights on his speedometer and gas tank flashed, and he rode off towards tight alleyways that cut through his domain, before abandoning his bike and running towards an abandoned shed, where he rested himself on the second floor within his territory.

His hunting grounds.

 

[Meredith]

Bellamira Orison From the Hovel of a Hanger-On to a Place Called Home {6:01AM}​

There was a gasping for air, as in resuscitation, frost-razors prickling against the insides of Bellamira’s lungs from her crumpled position that jerked her to her knees just as surely as if a person had dumped ice over her head in her sleep. There was a crashing of knowledge; instead of rushing away from her in the way that the dread-dreams did, it interposed in the space between her brain and being, speeding down the avenues of her thoughts and implanting a complete certainty that she’d been right all along. The presences she felt more intensely now were not, as the crisis volunteer she’d spoken to on the phone had so derisively said, a “dangerous delusion” so much as a captivating reality. The stripped-leather couch (once brown, now backing), too, was painfully cold against the gripping hand that held her tight in that dejected sitting position.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she examined herself in the tarnished mirror propped against the wall opposite the couch, somehow elucidant in its reflection of the dawn’s first murmurs. Like most of Bellamira’s whispered propositions, her hair extensions were false, dry, and disjointed about their crimped ends lain unevenly just below her breast. The nap had bent them out of shape, and she moved to pull them out by the handful. When that failed, she leaned forward, fingers searching in the half-light of a picture window fallen from grace, finding a steel pair of scissor-shears most recently used in lieu of a grinder and beginning to cut across her waist-length hair in broad strokes to strands more genuine at the shoulder. Her flustered smile stretched thin in the crumbling silver, and she found what pigment on her teeth she had lost from her lips through the night. The shorn strands fell to the dingy tile floor, but they did not concern her any more than the whereabouts of her companion from the night before. He was as irrelevant as his dwelling. If the busted-ass balcony door had anything to say about it (that’s why it’s so damn cold!), he’d already ceased to be her problem. There was only one person she intended to save—and, unfortunately, he was outside of her reach. As much a fool as all the rest.

There were worse people than Bellamira in the world, she was certain, but there were many better ones too. She felt no compulsion toward general heroics despite her limited precognitions. Fording disbelief was not a worthwhile venture in the pursuit of morality. There was no reward for it. The seeming inevitability of her dread-dreams was a condition of their nature. Fate was more often cruel than kind; Bellamira was simply cursed to observe it. Suffering and pleasure came indiscriminately regardless of deserving or goodness, inflicted upon even those with good intentions, and leading inevitably straight to hell. There was no question of who would come out on top—
because, in the end, all concede to the only mercy in their predetermined death.

That thought—of purpose, of ending, of inevitability—Her left hand plunged to the holster strapped to her garter and felt for the form of the sleek metal piece she still chose to carry, fingers brushing over the engraving on its grip, a missive of truth: Not every crisis can be managed. A deep breath, taken through her nose, beget laughter pregnant with malignance. It was time for the others to see her horror. She would not begrudge the use of an instrument so beautiful to bring about her own end. Bellamira had known—from the time she had received the gun—that a shot to the chest from it would precede her demise. Still, she had used it as a tool before in the management of crises. There was no point in being afraid of the damn thing. Fate was inevitable, after all.

Pushing herself up, she snatched a half-emptied glass from the table, taking the thick alcohol in her mouth and rinsing it about her teeth. She realized too late it was liquor and not just flat champagne; the celebrations of the night before had been held elsewhere. It was sour—congealed—and her nose winkled in remembrance of the night’s carousing. This position was just one of staying with an acquaintance that hoped to gain ongoing influence through her good name to avoid his presence in her own home. Their relationship was superficial, and mostly centered around business. She had no respect for him, because his use for her was practical, but he was not a bad fuck.

Perhaps she did love him, she mused as she fled the balcony; she proceeded down the corroding metal steps of the fire escape two at a time. What was love, really, but the human need for familiarity conflated with a moment’s convenience: an opportunity to see each other, and see each other again? If hell had come to be wrought about the Earth again today, then that would define the love she’d got.

The thought sobered her as she made it through the back entrance of her own apartment. It was not far from her bedfellow’s: convenience, not love. She began to gather the most important things. Her nails had been done the night before to match the jewels interlayed below Lucy’s sights, so she dumped the polish from the purse on the table. She went through her morning routine: listening, waiting, body prickling with the anticipation of knowing and understanding that when she received any input from the soul of the world she would have to act in immediacy.

With one hand on holding a half-smoked cigarette, and the other clumsily tying a kerchief around the front of her hair to keep it out of her face, she hopped up on the kitchen counter and peered through the blinds down to the street below. It seemed that someone else with some kind of pulse had need to flee already.

 

[kasigi]

The Predator

GARSCH

Arden Garsch

Garsch's Penthouse, Nutopia — Abandoned Shed, Nutopia

The crackling heat of a respirating flame illuminated the dark, harsh stains of exhaustion beneath Arden's eyes. The colossal smoking room was dimly lit, the origin of the aforementioned blaze a wood-burning fireplace, its radiance akin to long, supple fingers that barely reached each crevice of the interior. His form had melted into the lavish armchair, the otherwise alert personality lulled by its comfort and security. This looming penthouse was Arden’s last bastion of solitude, a token of his earned status; consequently, this meant it was tainted by his criminality, built upon the suffering of others. Nevertheless, ne’er a single drop of crimson was left for the megacorporations bloodhounds: his residence was confidential, and the number of individuals who knew how to reach him was in the single digits.

Only a few meters away from Arden’s armchair was an equally expensive sofa, both facing one another and working jointly to frame the extravagant fireplace. The two men that occupied the sofa looked at Arden expectantly, like dogs awaiting their master’s next command. They were visibly older than Arden, but only due to the latter’s divinity keeping his face young and untouched: it was likely that they were all within a few years of each other. A necessary evil, these meetings were. They hindered his seclusion, tearing the walls of his castle down during the one time he actually wanted to be alone. Nevermind that. They were here for a reason.

It had been about an hour now, and these men had come with the sole purpose of debriefing Arden on the current situation. These two were one of the very few people who were close to him, yet he seldom called them friends. His inner circle. They were, without a doubt, invaluable, if only because the amount of trust they placed in Arden was exceedingly rare. The moment they were gone was the moment Arden would feel truly alone in this world.

Within 24 hours, that wouldn’t matter anyway.

The men both had lit cigars resting between their lips, the smoke that clouded their faces barely having time to dissipate before one of them took another drag. While Arden was submerged in thought, his gaze traced their clouded silhouettes. Both of them were much larger than he and, at a glance, maintained a guise of physical superiority. How funny was it, that one man could hold so much power? Even funnier was how miniscule his influence truly was in comparison to the megacorporations. There was always lingering anxiety, that they may succeed in earning Arden’s head due to a single stroke of incompetence. The day had not come yet, but he never entertained the thought that they WEREN’T only a few steps behind him. Nevertheless, now that he was at the top, he couldn’t help but acknowledge how much easier things had become. All he had to do was oversee things from the shadows, entirely unseen by the nigh-unending grunts underneath his heel, while his lieutenants managed individual criminal operations depending on their expertise. Of course, his hunts always managed to keep things interesting. A smile slowly crept onto his face, reminiscing of the targets of the past. He always has a few people lined up, and his underlings were ready to clean any scene, no matter how brutal, at Arden’s beck and call. There was one man in particular who had caught Arden’s eye as of recently, but he hadn’t pinned him down just yet. Like a cat toying with a mouse moments before the rodent found itself within death’s maw, Arden had yet to truly strike.

As the plumes of smoke cleared, the now-comprehensible faces of his underlings sullied his fanatical daydreaming, his smile disappearing just as quickly as it manifested. The floor beneath groaned slightly as Arden readjusted himself, settling his chin into the palm of his left hand while the correlating elbow acted as support atop the armrest.

“Dismissed. Keep it up. Things keep runnin’ this smooth, roots’ll eventually sprawl the entirety of the megacity. ‘Course, things are just gonna get harder from here on out. Don’t forget that.”

As the words escaped his lips, they simultaneously escorted both men out of the room, the giant oak doors that led into the smoking room allowing light to pour in only briefly. Blessed with peace once again, Arden attentively watched as the clock above the fireplace ever-ticked forward with the passage of time, each rhythmic etching themselves into Arden’s very being.

6 am now, isn’t it?

Beads of sweat fell from Arden’s brow as he frantically sought to strife the overwhelming amounts of information that had just wormed its way into his brain. He found himself within an extravagant bathroom, seeking towards his reflection in the mirror over a sink. This familiar face was what anchored him to sanity, he believed. Though, he never claimed to be particularly sane in the first place. Even after all of the people he’s killed in his wicked manhunts, never had he experienced something like this. These presences he felt were entirely new. He felt like he was being pulled towards them, spurred on by the desire to kill each and every one of them down. A chortle escaped his throat, tearing his gaze away from the mirror.

This just makes things easier.

Thus began his journey towards a particularly enticing presence. It was his instinct, telling him that this was the prey he was looking for. The hunt was on, and there wasn’t a moment to spare.

Exiting into the private elevator that took him directly to the ground floor of the complex, the grandiosity of the lobby made to entice buyers into selling their soul for a slab of property. Yet another elevator took Arden to the underground garage, wherein Arden slid into the driver's side of a well-kept supercar. As he exited the garage onto the city streets, the early-morning rays of sunshine sweeping over the entirety of his vehicle, he could not help but ponder the city. The sprawling, intricate mega-structures. It affected each and every individual differently. For some, comfort and thoughts of homeliness. For others, a reminder of corruption and the death they've caused. How many people can truly consider the former when met with such a view? Arden envied them.

As he closed in on the presence, the signal began to grow stronger. He ditched his vehicle, leaving it undisturbed within an indiscriminate alleyway. It was a familiar part of the megacity, run-down and massively influenced by Arden’s criminal organization. Things were falling into place a little too well, weren’t they?

The hunt reached a crescendo as Arden approached a worn down, decently sized shed. Abandoned and otherwise lifeless, he could feel the presence. Once inside, each step upon the wooden interior reverberated throughout the entire structure, every little shift and movement made itself known to all. Ascending to the second floor, Arden began to close in on his prey; interestingly, he was met with a familiar face. Not only that, but Arden could tell: the man who rested on the other side of the second floor was fully expecting him, which made the situation all the stranger.

“Don’t ‘spose you’re serving yourself up on a silver platter for me, are ‘ya?” He jested, though his tone was firm. The mouse had seemingly ran headlong into a trap, but there was something more to this. He wanted to know what exactly was going through this man’s head.

mentions: Merciless Medic

Code by Serobliss

 

[Merciless Medic]

Reginald Burkhardt​

Date: September 2, 2403 | 7:20ish am
Location: Abandoned Shed, Nutopia
Interactions: Arden
Mentions: N/A
kasigi

Reginald sat atop a metal table, body leaned over with his elbow resting on a propped up leg. Waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting…

Man, when was he going to get here-?

Footsteps resounded in the empty shed. A sickening grin spread across his pale face, even as the familiar man before him stepped into view. Relief surged his entire being. And it was the oddest feeling he's ever felt or gained from a human. The grin cracked even wider, he laughed, and threw his head back, as if the question spoken was the funniest joke he ever heard. He went from strained giggling to uproarious laughter, then restrained himself proper as he leaned back over, staring at him with those bright grey eyes.

“Ahhh… Look what the mouse lured in today~.” He mused to himself, very aware of who he’s dealing with and where he stood. He brought his arms out to gesture towards the room, his eyes lidded lazily as he chuckled a bit more. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t come with anything up my sleeves. No back up. None of my little toys to help me escape this time, my sweet predator. No no, I came wholly unprepared to leave unscathed as an act of trust.” He slid off the table, his arms now returning to his side. “The name’s Mr. Burkhardt, but you can just call me Reginald. If you really are here because you felt my presence, which I’m glad it is you… Then you know there is more than just me in this godforsaken city. Use your senses if you haven’t already. Feel just how many of their lives ping at the edges of your consciousness…” He proposed, eyes staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

Regardless if Arden did what he asked, he continued. “Now, the meat as to why I’m here, in the middle of your territory, unguarded. If I were to run, you’d catch me, and so would your people. You see… I’m not exactly all that. Have you ever heard of mice helping the cat find others of their kind while they get to live for their hard work and sacrifice? Well… Considering your lovely track record, I know where I stand. But see…” He lifted up his hand and focused his energy. A swirl of black energy glided around his hand, then vanished. “I can feel that you are one of them. One of the divine. One who holds the Divinity. We are both very different from the normal people here. If I can go so far as to assume, we never get sick, we are physically more capable than the others out there, and we can easily sway the minds of many. And if I have a seedling of power, so do you, and our powers will only get stronger the longer we live. I propose a truce, seeing as you are the only one I know and are far better at fighting than I am. And since I am still your uncaught little mouse, how about I give you the best hunt once this is all done, yeah?” He grinned wide.

“I’ll help you find and capture your prey, and we can share the spoils. Even though I can feel the urge to end you here, I know you can feel the same urge towards me, so I’m not going to do anything too rash. But if you kill me now, ohhh, that is going to be a very unfulfilling hunt, wouldn’t it? It’d be a shame if you killed me too early, no? Especially when there could be far more dangerous people out there that might even give you a run for your money.”

While Reginald did not know about gaining power from absorbing divinity as of yet, he was aware - and if movies and video games were anything to go by - that their powers would only get better and stronger from here on out.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Kyros Echnaton

| The Nutopian Grand Cathedral of Sol - Main Hall| 7.26AM - September 2nd - 2403 |​

"Reporting for duty, my lord."

Augustus' imposing stature and stoic expression betrayed a hint of pride as he stood at the end of a row of four men, each clad in their own distinct garb emblematic of their specialties.. The Paladins. The strongest warriors serving the Holy Sol, and served by her in turn. A secret order of men belonging to lineages that had been traditionally raised by the faith to be living weapons over the past centuries, answering only to the High Saint Kyros or the Archminister Augustus. They were broad-shouldered, buzz-cut and tall. Muscles like metal wires, and cybernetically enhanced to the point where you could see the synth-muscle and sub-dermal armor through the skin in places.

Khepri. The most faithful of them all. Headstrong and unmoving, wielding fire and blunt force trauma against his enemies. Osiris. The traditionalist. With the incredible advancements in physical modifications, he is likely the fastest and strongest Paladin ever. Montu. The most dangerous. Has had a brilliant fascination with the art of breaking and blowing things up for his entire life. Set. The assassin. There was a reason any religiously motivated murder performed by the church was never traced back to it, and he is it. The fifth and final member, Jericho, was not currently present. He was already the odd one out, instead of having been raised in the order he aligned with them during the previous High Saint's rule. He was the former owner of the foremost private military company under the Nutopian government, before the entire system was outlawed and replaced with the so-called "Peacekeeper Project" a good fifty years ago, but his age was well hidden by the rejuvenation treatments he now afforded.

Kyros stood with one hand in his pocket and one gently clutching a lit cigar in front of his mouth. His brain had been working overtime throughout the morning. The many 'presences' he felt throughout the city quickly began stirring after the initial shock around 6am, and he'd been working his hardest trying to keep track of those few he'd already identified. The sun had begun trickling in through the massive painted glass windows, and its rays seemed brighter when they fell upon him. A cloud of smoke briefly escaped his mouth, before being sucked in again and finally leaving with a long breath. "Thank you all for arriving on such short notice. He began, "I'm sure the briefing today has left you with many questions, but suffice it to say that we do not have the time to address all of those now." His eyes, virtually glowing in the dim morning light, rose to meet each of theirs. His voice carried a sense of concern as he continued, "The day of reckoning, as described in the book of sacrifice, has come to pass. The time is now that the men and women of Sol must march into the streets and spread our enlightenment to the masses - but there are threats to our plans. Individuals throughout the city - dangerous individuals, servants of darkness and evil. Individuals that need to be eliminated."

By the shuffle of his shoulders, Kyros could tell that Osiris seemed to be having a hard time believing the information put forth to him. It was understandable given how quickly things seemed to be moving out of the realm of their usual rituals and ceremonies and into fantasy, but Kyros couldn't help but feel a sting of annoyance at his perceived insolence. Their lives were soon to be over regardless, and he hated to waste time. "Your holiness, if I may?" Osiris began, and with practiced humility Kyros replied "Of course, Paladin."

"I've read the dossiers. The mission itself seems simple enough, but I'm concerned with how these individuals have been selected. They were each... sensed by you? I apologize, but I'd like to have some light shed on this." With a stern bend in his brow, Augustus turned to his subordinate with a disgruntled "Oh ye of little faith! I should-" but was quickly silenced when Kyros held his hand up at him. "I recognize your concern, though I have not lost my mind and started ordering the executions of random civilians. You've become involved in something far larger and more complicated than what your experience has prepared you for, and so your understanding of reality and the world may soon become quite challenged. Of course, I anticipated that that answer may not be to your satisfaction - so I've already sent Paladin Jericho ahead to gather a bit of evidence for you. I wouldn't have you fighting without determination."

Osiris raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief, but even when presented with such outlandish claims it seemed that the divinity within Kyros forced him to accept the possibility. "He should be getting back to us any -" Kyros suddenly paused, and his eyes were wide with surprise. Like lightning in his nervous system, a new sensation wracked him in waves of feeling. It wasn't painful, but it shook him to his core, like an enormous ancient bell had sounded somewhere deep within his soul and caused him to vibrate at its frequencies. Out of the many souls he could sense, one had suddenly vanished. The first victim was claimed.

"... Right now, I believe."

Then, almost as if in response to his words, a signal sounded and a large projection began coming into focus in the air above them. It was Jericho.

"What the FUCK was that?" His voice echoed through speakers throughout the hall, before his face came into view on the video feed. His nose was broken, and blood had seeped down his face and stained the fabric at his collar. It appeared as though he'd had chunks of armor ripped off of his uniform, and his graying disheveled hair fell in heavy curls around his face. He sounded out of breath. "Paladin Jericho, report in." Kyros spoke, and was immediately met with Jericho's stern tone. "Yeah I'll report in. You were right. Fucker killed three of my guys with his bare hands, punched my nose broken through my helmet, and ate almost a hundred bullets before he finally decided to go down." His camera panned away, revealing a violent scene. It appeared they'd ambushed the Divine in the comfort of his home, an otherwise pleasant small villa somewhere in the middle-class suburbs. The lifeless body of a Knight of the Church laid broken and unnatural slung over the end of an upturned couch, flanked by several more injured men patching their wounds up. Another couple corpses laid in pools of their own blood under piles of broken furniture, and against the far wall an unarmed middle-aged man in civilian clothing laid slumped. His body was riddled with bullet holes, and the bloody hand-prints around him revealed the struggle he'd put up.

The Paladins in the church looked between each other, and even Augustus looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Repeat please, Paladin. The target took an unnatural amount of force to expire?" Jericho chuckled nervously across the comms. "Unnatural might be an understatement." "And there was no signs of cybernetic enhancement?" "I want to say there are since he lived so long with so little blood, but no - nothing we've been able to detect." Kyros turned from the screen to look back at Osiris. "I hope that satisfies your questions for now, and also tells you how careful you should be in approaching these individuals. They may not be at your level yet, but I think it's only a matter of time-"

"Now what the hell is this shit?" Jericho's voice once again came over the comms, and everyone's heads turned back to the projection. He'd taken a couple more steps towards the corpse, where now something else was happening. Tiny little golden sparks seemed to be rising from it, like a thin cloud of condensation over a pot of boiling water. Originating from his chest area, it began coiling up into the air like a snake. "Lord Echnaton, what the hell is this?-" "Hold on, Jericho. Bring us closer. You're... you're fine." Kyros' eyes were glued to the screen like a child on Saturday morning. Jericho apprehensively approached, given them a better view of the phenomenon. More and more of the little sparkling particles rose, and they were beginning to clump into a thicker mist glowing with gentle light over the chest of the target. "Fascinating..."

For a brief moment, silence reigned in the room as Kyros remained awestruck with the visible divinity seeping out of the killed man's chest and the rest struggled to get to grips with the situation they were presented with. What finally broke the silence was the sound of breaking glass and metallic bouncing from Jericho's audio. He barely managed to get a sound of alarm out before the video feed was rocked by a violent explosion. For a moment it seemed the connection was broken as visual artifacts and dead pixels danced along the screen, but it soon came back into focus accompanied by the sound of gunfire. "... Jericho?" The display showed a man in unmarked tactical gear, hovering over the deceased body of the former Divine with a hand pressed to its chest. The golden sheen that emanated from his chest seemed to be sucked into and absorbed by the stranger.

The feed was unclear and hazy with all the dust kicked up by the prior explosion, but as Jericho raised his pistol, exclaimed a string of curses, and unloaded his entire magazine at the new individual, it was clear that it wasn't even enough to faze him. The stranger raised an assault rifle in the direction of the camera, and a series of gunshots resounded before the feed cut out completely.

Kyros looked back to see that Osiris had instinctively reached for the oscillating blade sheathed at his waist - but his face was no longer contorted with surprise or concern, but rather determination. Similar looks were on the other faces present. "You said some are stronger, my lord?" The coarse and callous voice of Montu wheezed out. He had a sick curl at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes glinted with excitement. Before he'd had the chance to reply, Khepri interrupted as he fell onto one knee. "We will avenge them in your name for what they have done to our brother, Saint Kyros! The creator be with us!" A statement that, to the surprise of everyone present, prompted a response even from Set. "Creator be with us indeed, but we can't expect her to do all the hard work." He spoke with sinister sincerity.

Thoughtful, Kyros analyzed each of them before nodding. "We've got two dozen names. Careful not to let someone swoop in and absorb their power like what just happened. I'll take care of that once you've secured a kill. Osiris, you stay with me. The rest of you, pick a target and get to work. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

The Paladin Khepri is now hunting Roman Orison. Plutoni

The Paladin Set is now hunting Reginald Burkhardt. Merciless Medic kasigi

 

[StarPrincessVal]

Elizabeth Mallory
7:19A.M.
​

Elizabeth held the bottle of the girls blood, all that remained of her after the incinerator was through with her corpse. She had drank enough earlier to sustain her through out the day, but this memento was here to support her in a different way. She kissed the bottle gently before setting it down in the empty seat next to her. The street lights illuminated the inside of the limo in a pattern not dissimilar to a heart beat. Light. Dark. Light. Dark. She could almost hear the beat coming from the glass vessel. She could already tell she was going to be in a bad mood today. Killing the love of ones life could do that to a person. But she just had to keep it together until the end of the board meeting. By then she would have what she wanted... no, what she needed. Now was not the time for hubris. If she was going to survive this war, let alone win it, she needed an army. And the board was going to give it to her.

She flashed her badge at the security guard as she entered the building. She had worked there for nearly fifty years, there was no one in the building who didn't know who she was. But that simple flash was, in her mind, just one more way to remind someone she was better than them. She entered the elevator and pressed the close door button. Alone in the lift, she inserted her special key into the slot and gave it a quarter turn to the right. The lights dimmed and the floor numbers changed to red. Quickly she entered her personal code, three six seven two eight, then turned her key back and removed it. The lights flashed and came back on. With a groan the elevator rose for a second before beginning to descend into the depths of the bio-sphere.

It stops with a thud and the door opens to her personal office. She walks in and sets her bottle of secretary in her usual seat, before sitting at her own desk. She has numerous e-mails and notifications, several of which she had glanced through on the ride over. Proof that she wasn't the only one who had heard the call and begun to move. She smiled at her own luck. This would make it easier to convince the board. She examined herself in the mirror. She had been in a hurry to get ready, having spent an indulgent amount of time feeding on her paramour. She was sure to clean all of the blood from her, aside from that on her lips. Blood did make an excellent lip stain. She fixed her hair and straightened her uniform, pulling a spare jacket from the armoire. Just another reminder of her secretary's exceptional performance. Finally ready, she stands and heads back to the elevator. She brushes the bottle gently as she walks past. "Wish me luck, love." Though the bottle said nothing, she heard the response none the less. She smiled and stepped into the elevator.

"Gentleman as many of you are now aware, something has awoken in our city this morning. Though footage is choppy at best, several reports have come in of people with exceptional abilities beginning to surface. People who seemingly haven't aged in decades, or whose skin is resilient to gunshot and blade. People with strength beyond that of the average human and speed to rival that of small motor vehicles. Speaking with the R&D department, we believe we have come up with a way to track these individuals. They give off a certain radiation that is consistent with meteorites. By tracking this radiation I believe I may be able to capture one of them to bring back to R&D. The characteristics of these individuals may prove useful in our search for a true rejuvenation technique." All of it was bullshit, but Elizabeth learned long ago that she had an uncanny knack for convincing people to accept her lies, especially after a feeding session. She waited for their response as they went over the documents and rewatched the cellphone footage that had been posted online. Finally one spoke. "If your right about this, apprehension could prove difficult. How do you propose to bring one in alive?" She had been waiting for this question. "I ask permission to use the Hounds." A murmur breaks out among the chairmen. The same one who spoke earlier holds a hand up silencing the group. "How many do you think you would need?" Elizabeth frowns. She had not expected the conversation to last this long. "All of them." One of the men in the back stammers. "You are the head of the cosmetics modeling and advertising department. You have no field experience. Why should we trust you with four Hounds?" Putting on her best face, she smiles at the man. "I lead the team developing the rejuvination serums. If these individuals prove useful, I need to see what they can do before they are apprehended." The men mutter amongst themselves for a moment before addressing Elizabeth again. "We thank you for all that you continue to do Chairman Mallory, but we will not be granting you the use of the Hounds. We will send Hubbard out with two Hounds and when he apprehends one of these individuals, you will get your research subject." Elizabeth smiles with rage. "Of course. If that is what the board wishes."

Twenty minutes later, she storms toward the elevator. Why the hell hadn't her ability to charm them worked? It's true she had never made such a large request before, but she had been certain it would work. As she approaches the elevator, a voice calls out to her. "Ms. Mallory. Ms. Mallory, please hold on a minute." She turns to face Senator McCormack. "Ms. Mallory, I was wondering if you might give me a minute to discuss something with you." He smiles politely at her. "Senator. I didn't notice you in the room today. I must have been preoccupied. I appreciate your offer of your time, Senator, but I'm afraid I don't have much to spare at the moment, unless you can get me an army of super soldiers." He contemplates her question. "Well... I don't know about an army. But, listen. I have my fingers in several pies, so to speak, and the ears in that room weren't the only ones listening. Some friends of mine have an interest in you leading a recovery team for some of those individuals. They have a few projects in the works and need to test them out, a trial run, if you will. So if you don't mind being a guinea pig, I might be able to get you in the field." Elizabeth doesn't hesitate. It's now or never. "Of course, Senator. I'm extremely interested." He motions her to the elevator and puts his key in, typing in his personal code. As the elevator begins to descend he leans in close to her. "Have you ever heard of projects Typhon or Echidna?"

 

[Plutoni]

ROMAN
✧

LOCATION
7:00 a.m. | 978 Laurier Ave. - Roman's Apartment

TAGS
Prizzy Kriyze

The walk had been a slow blur. He hadn't seen the faces that shuffled out of his way on the wet sidewalk, the ones that looked and looked again at the congealed, streaking rust up his wrists and fingers, turning to watch his wake. Roman was inside his head, his lungs, turning over the strange, blossoming sensations in his mind, trying to yoke them together in some grasp at control that even now he knew to be futile. One last performance from a man already deeply lost within the garden. His substance was still there, of course. He still felt like.. Himself. There was now just a glimpse of this vastness below it that made him feel small, naïve, almost, breathless and myopic for not sensing it before. Only now was he seeing the sky after a lifetime spent crawling, vast fields after spinning blind for thirty-four years. His chest ached with it. Who had opened his eyes?

There was nothing above him. Only toxic air and the yawn of space above the glass. No.
There was only him.
And the rest.

There was a pressure in his throat as he considered the presences that followed him with the city lights, fixed stars in the expanse. Fixed. No, he was mistaken - some had already begun to move, to slide down the edges of his awareness in unknown streets, unseen rooms. None approached him yet. He considered the danger he was in in that dazed, open moment with the conditioned detachment he hadn't had to slip into for some years now. How easy it still yet came, the familiarity of an old coat - for a moment's breath he was seventeen again, neck prickling under the scope of unseen gunmen, tape-bound packages heavy on his back.

The stakes were higher now. Cosmic. Ecstatic. He wondered if the others felt the same burning bliss unfolding within them. The gut feeling. The righteousness of what he knew he must do.

He pressed his hand to the biometrics pad of his apartment door, patient as it flushed blue, opaque glass sliding open in silence. His apartment was bright and quiet, the lights still off, white walls and plush cream carpet lit only by the broad morning skyline that stretched out beyond the glass-backed balcony. Cool jasmine and, faintly, coffee.

"You're back early."

Marceline.

The woman he would've married smiled at him from where she leant in their bedroom doorway, brow arched as she raised the steaming cup to her lips. She was still in a bathrobe, blonde hair dark and wet from a shower, skin still flushed slightly pink from the hot water.

"Scrubs and all." He stepped further into the apartment, but stopped there. Paused. "Romi, what happened to your hands?"

Why couldn't he quite see her face?

She put the coffee down on their artificial wood-top island as she began to pad over, stopping as Roman finally spoke.

"It's not mine, Marcy. Don't worry." He smiled at her as he started towards the sink, bending to place a quick kiss on her temple as he moved past. Apple blossom shampoo. Somehow placated - a snort, an 'alright, then' - she retrieved her drink, and he watched her as she went to curl up on their sofa, picking up the glass screen from which she worked, beginning to sort through yesterday's messages as he turned on the water. He pulled his scrub top and its crusted sleeves over his head and tossed it into the bin.

Why was she no longer beautiful?

The basin washed pinkish brown as he scrubbed the dry blood from beneath his nails, from where it has gathered in the fine creases of his knuckles, watching the remnants of that now-blessed life splash down the drain. He paused as he considered how much purer it felt to the city water. His creation, unpolluted - he finished the job all the same. Absentmindedly drying his hands on a towel, he moved to the wall where the rack of whisky stretched nearly to the ceiling, a single row of glass bottles from which he took a fine, unopened reserve. Marcy looked up as he popped the cork. He filled two crystal glasses, raising one to his nose out of habit, and Roman almost recoiled - it smelt wrong. Acrid. Almost.. Dirty.

"Corked?"

Roman considered his answer for a moment. "Just needs to breathe."
It was him, certainly. There was no explanation that would sound sane.

"Here, come." He took both glasses in his hand, gesturing briefly for her to come with him to the balcony outside. Now dressed only in his blue, blood-spotted scrub trousers and slim-fitting black undershirt, he placed both glasses on the railing, bending to strip his boots of the hospital covers which he tossed over the edge, watching them caught by the wind as it carried them fluttering many stories below. The distinct hospital pass still swung at his hip, but Marcy had already slipped her hand into his. He handed her a glass, watching her as she drank from it, face free of his distaste.

"..Seems fine to me. So, drinking at seven in the morning. What's this about? You've been fired?"

He swallowed the growing disgust as he watched the polluted liquid pass her lips, smiling with a shake of his head, turning to look out at the city once more.
"Not quite. The hospital.. The hospital isn't needed anymore."

She barked with laughter, surprised, almost indignant. "Grand fucking General isn't needed anymore? Which senator decided this? I didn't realise they could just suddenly swing the hammer on a private medical conglomerate, let alone the biggest in the-"

"It's alright, Marcy. It's alright." His words were slow, his gaze somewhere in the middle distance. "There's just decisions I need to make now."

They stood there in silence in the early breeze, both glasses returned to the edge, and she wrapped her bathrobe a little tighter around her. She didn't have time to make a sound as he took her by the arm and threw her over the railing.

She screamed, her shoulder jolting in its socket, her weight caught by Roman's iron grip around her wrist, feeling the fine bones and tendon shift under the bruising pressure. Huge, horrified eyes met his, one slipper falling into the gape of empty space below her feet, tears already beginning to stream in terror. She was trying to gasp his name, he felt. She just couldn't quite form the words. He placed his elbow upon the edge, leaning to rest his chin in his hand it as he considered his fiancée sobbing there below him, trying desperately to grab at the ledge at the foot of the balcony.

"Hey- hey," he hushed her. "Don’t squirm. I could drop you."

She went limp, chest still heaving with silent, painful sobs. It was empty words, in a way. It wasn't lost on him how utterly effortless it was to lean there, supporting the entirety of her weight with one hand. He'd always been unusually strong, certainly - but this was curious.

"Roman, plea- please!" Her voice was raw, strained, thick with tears. "Pull me up, I'm begging you- it's not funny- my wrist, please-"

Roman let out a sigh. "I'm not laughing, dove. I just don’t quite know what to do with you."

She blinked up at him, set aback in confusion, sound not quite finding her moving lips as she searched his face with blurry vision. He couldn't exactly blame her. In that moment, his heart went out to her. She had woken up this morning utterly innocent of what had begun to unfold in the world - in him - unknowing of the wordless message he had seen in the guts of another man. She didn't know what part she had yet to play in this. From where he stood, neither quite did Roman.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry! If I've done something, I- just tell me, I'll fix it, I swear-"

"People are only ever really sorry when they're afraid, aren't they? Afraid of losing something. Someone. Strange phenomenon. My operating table has probably turned more people to religion than any of the modern churches in Nutopia. Ah, my sister-" he smiled, wistful, voice deep and steady. "My sister was only ever sorry when given the alternative of sleeping on the street. Not even then, sometimes. Braver than most, I suppose.

"Doesn't matter now, though. I'm not even sure how to explain this to you, Marcy - it's no fault of your own that I don't think you'll understand in time. I just can't quite see you anymore. I'm looking at you now, and I'm just- you've never really been perfect, have you? Course not. You're human. I can just feel this ugly fear and impurity about you, now, this.. Tainting impurity. Even doing this to you hasn't, ah.. Washed it away, I suppose. And I don't know if it's just all in my head the longer I look at you but I want to help you. I'm just not sure I'm meant to help the both of you."

Black hair in his mind's eye. Bloodshot blue eyes.

"I don't want you being used against me. You deserve better than that, you see, but I'm sure you understand that this puts me into a strange situation. Tell me, Marceline - what do you think I should do?"

Repent.

Her voice was small, cracked. Barely more than a whisper.
"Please just let me live."

He stared at her, mind working. Suddenly, the finest trail of smoke on the air - Roman looked up, breathing deeply, but it lingered. From below? He couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything. Something was just beginning to make his skin prickle all the same. Paranoia, or had he already been found? He couldn't feel any of the others particularly close by, but his brow furrowed. If one of them could hide themselves, or some other individual was simply sensitive enough to sense him and panic, he- it was a good trap. Up near the top of a tall building with a fire trapping him in at the base. He looked back down. Too soon. He was holding the very reason he couldn't be caught so soon in his hands. He was weak, still, far, far too weak - in her eyes he was beginning to see the start of his vision. What he could do with just a taste more of this terrible power.
The world he could create.

He didn't know what they'd be capable of doing to him. If they were already anything like him, the chances of him getting them both out alive were slim to none. And he had the greatest work yet to do.

"I'm out of time, I think." Calm, blissful tears began to drip once more as he straightened upright. He wasn't sure why they had now begun to come so freely. "I have to be the one to spare you from what's to come. I want my hand to be the one to give you.. Deliverance. I wish I could've helped you see what I see now."

And his mind went to the man on the operating table, how his heart still beat anew somewhere in the city.

"Maybe this won't even be the end for you. I have a path I need to take, and at the finish.. I don't know. I need to be something greater than I am now, and you've helped me see that, Marcy. So thank you." And he smiled.

"Don't be afraid."

Roman released his grip. He didn't linger a moment longer there on the balcony, already turned, reentering the apartment and making straight for the cabinet beside the sofa. The drawer was locked, but with one foot pressing the back of it to the wall, he wrenched it open hard enough for the latch to snap, paper sent flying into the room. His gun was a familiar weight in his hand. He wondered for a moment where its sister was now, strewn somewhere in a dark, familiar room. Bellamira was probably still asleep, and as he slid a second case of bullets into his scrub pocket, turning for the door, Roman hoped it was a peaceful one. He'd be coming back for her soon.

There just seemed to be something he needed to deal with first.

 

[kasigi]

The Predator

GARSCH

Arden Garsch

Abandoned Shed, Nutopia

Some kind of ruse, maybe? Not like the nooks and crannies of a tiny shed could guise an ambush.

It really was just the two of them, much to Arden's surprise. Such a deeply intimate scene: the prey was finally at the predator's mercy, heart fluttering with excitement as he imagined the fate of his victim. To wrap his hands around this man's neck and feel the life slowly drain from his body would be an ecstasy like no other, to revel in the reward of a successful hunt and feast upon the trophy's corpse. He emanated intensity, though he tried to restrain himself: something was pulling him towards the man in front of him. Desire had enticed many times before, but this was entirely unnatural and foreign, murmurs of instinct seeping into his mind and infecting his thoughts. Arden really wanted to kill the man, spurred on by cravings greater than his wicked mind usually permitted, simultaneously fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket in an attempt to keep himself occupied. Nevertheless, he was open to listen, Reginald's words acting as a wall against Arden's unbridled aggression.

"If you really are here because you felt my presence, which I’m glad it is you… Then you know there is more than just me in this godforsaken city. Use your senses if you haven’t already. Feel just how many of their lives ping at the edges of your consciousness…" Was he experiencing the same thing Reginald was? He was exactly right: while Reginald's presence was the most prominent, there definitely were other pings far away, constantly shifting slightly in intensity as the sources moved further or closer. Frankly, it pissed Arden off. That mean I've got a beacon on my head too? Fuck off. The very last thing he wanted was whispers of his exact location to constantly ring in the ears of an army of future adversaries.

"Yeah. Nose sniffed you out." Lightly tapping the bridge of his nose, Arden adopted a mocking tone. Nevertheless, his words were sincere — he really could smell Reginald. He noticed it as he closed in on shed, olfaction ever growing in strength as each scent grew increasingly distinct. The odors that once were invisible to an average human were meticulously detailed to Arden now, providing what felt like a second pair of eyes. The people, the paths they've walked, how recently they'd walked them. An evolution of his sense of smell was welcome, especially with what was to come in the future; however, it was still muddled. He was ever a newborn, finding this newfound skill hard to utilize. In particular, the damp, eroding interior of the shed's upper floor was progressively growing in volatility — he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to sit idly inside without going insane, nose infrequently twitching in disagreement. Pungent was an understatement, Arden's eyes tracing the visibly rotting interior of the building before returning to Reginald. At the very least, his tunnel vision was gone: the smell began to override his desire to kill.

So you're the same as me, huh? You seem pretty comfy sharing all this, seems like pretty fuckin' risky game on your part... I'll bite, yeah. Call me Arden." Now, he really WAS curious. What was this guy's plan?

Giving a nod of encouragement, Arden waited for the man to continue with his proposal, his restlessness finally subsided.

"Considering your lovely track record, I know where I stand. But see…” Arden watched in amazement, strands of darkness undulating around Reginald's fingers. A chortle forced its way out, Arden standing dumbfounded at what he had seen. Capabilities only described in fiction were now a reality, and this man had the power of the void at his fingertips. A worthy adversary. It begs the question: what are the others capable of? A maniacal grin followed shortly. It sounded like fun.

“I’ll help you find and capture your prey, and we can share the spoils. Even though I can feel the urge to end you here, I know you can feel the same urge towards me, so I’m not going to do anything too rash. But if you kill me now, ohhh, that is going to be a very unfulfilling hunt, wouldn’t it? It’d be a shame if you killed me too early, no? Especially when there could be far more dangerous people out there that might even give you a run for your money.”

Reginald had conjured an appealing terms of agreement, though Arden could feel that his intentions were likely anything but genuine. At what point would they be at each others throats, then, if not now? However, as of now.. two so-called Divines working together would likely increase their chances of survival. There was no reason to say no, even if the agreement was only temporary.

"Truce it is, little mouse. As long as you keep your word. I can't promise that I'm gonna share my trophies with you, though." Arden opened his arms wide, as if welcoming Reginald, before dropping them back to his sides. "I can feel it. I really do want to kill you, you know? Either way, I won't. I can feel them all, out there, and I doubt there's much time to sit around arguing. I came all the way out here, so you're gonna make sure this little agreement is worth my time. Chances are that quite a few people are gonna have the same idea, so shit's gonna get interesting real fast either way." Arden looked down at his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist as he studied the newfound strength that filled his body. "Fun little ability you've got there, that.. darkness? But I can't tell what I'm capable of yet. Not like I'd be keen on tellin' ya', anyways. You're right about the seedling, though. I can feel it in my chest, surging constantly. I feel light, yet so damn powerful at the same time. Gotta ask, though: you sure you're fine with this? I'm not gonna sugarcoat anything, I plan on taking you out eventually. Figure you have the same idea, though. Means we got a pretty mutual understanding of one another, at the very least." He motioned for Reginald to follow down the stairs, turning away as his voice transitioned into a shout over the sound of the creaky, near-failing steps. "Now, can we please get the hell outta here? This place is a fuckin' dump, and it's pissing me off. Coulda chose a nicer place for your little excursion.."

mentions: Merciless Medic Prizzy Kriyze

Code by Serobliss

 

[Merciless Medic]

Reginald Burkhardt

​

Date: September 2, 2403 | 7:30ish am
Location: Abandoned Shed -> Back Alleys, Nutopia
Interactions: Arden
Mentions: N/A
kasigi

Ohhhh, he can feel it. Just the urge to end this man right here and now. Oh, and it would be a glorious fight, but Reginald was oh-so curious about his new powers, and he wasn’t about to let some Divine take his chance to have his curiosity sated - if it ever did, of course.

Curious though, did he point out his nose can sniff out Reginald. Was it his power? To become the apex predator? Or was it something else? He didn’t know, but Reginald figured he eventually would. Could he smell the peppermint perfume that barista had rubbed off on him? The black, bitter coffee he had before coming here? What about the metal and gas used to get here on his bike?

Or maybe, it was all a figure of speech.

He chuckled as Arden joked about how he’ll bite. Oh, and so he did, so curious about whatever he was talking about. And, of course, Arden likely had the jaws to cause visceral pain, so Reginald wasn’t going to try him. No, no. He was but a mouse crawling into the dangerous, yet secure paws of a beast with claws made to rend him to tiny, meaty ribbons.

Oh, and Arden was even the kind of man to have a very similar, twisted grin of his own. What a match~!

And, oh, how excited he was when Arden accepted his proposal! He grinned wide, though tilted his head when Arden said he wasn’t going to share his trophies. Awww, how sad. Oh well. He was right when Arden mentioned how he really wanted to kill him. Of course. But he was glad that this truce saved his skin.

Reginald grinned, and he nodded, agreeing with him as he walked after Arden, chuckling at his poor situation. “Ah, I apologize. I wish I did find a better place, but I felt like you were already hot on my trail as it is, so I didn’t want to wait too long playing abandoned shed hunting. But yes, I think I’ll call it… Void. Just feels right…” He mumbled more so to himself. His gaze then found itself affixed to Arden’s hair at the back of his head. “Oh, I know, but I intend to have fun before my time is up. Once we can match each other in power, I will feel more comfortable fighting to stay alive, and you will have the best hunt of your life. Either succumbing to your prey or you finally capturing me and becoming a god… Well, we’ll see.” He didn’t seem to be exaggerating, his tone dark.

As they walked out of the shed, Reginald continued. “If the others are aware they can feel the other Divines, they must be holding themselves up in a protective area and sending their little followers, no doubt. Hell, we might become the hunted soon enough, or we already are. Or, gaining intel. Of course, I-” He paused. A sudden surge of something made him feel almost hungry. What was that? He looked around, his cheery demeanor dropping as he glared through the buildings, wishing he had X-ray vision. “Something feels wrong. Should we check it out? I… I need to see…” The growing urge to seek felt daunting, a low growl leaving him as he ran for his bike, hopping on and turning the key to make it purr to life. “Are you coming with?”

Man, he really needed to go. He was almost starting to feel anxious. As if he was wasting time just sitting around here talking.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Set

| Cola-Co Office Tower 4A-D - Leisure Hallway| 7.36AM - September 2nd - 2403 |​

"Pop."

The finest trickle of blood ran down from the peacekeepers helmet. Set's silenced pistol was precisely calibrated, just powerful enough to enter through the helmet but not exit the back if fired from the front. The peacekeeper, though his face was obscured by their heavy-duty armor, seemed surprised as his body slowly fell backwards to the ground, and his rifle clattered harmlessly across the carpet. A number of estimations were calculated on Set's head-up display. "Estimated ten minutes before drone-control checks up on him. Disable his lifeline signal before it goes off." He muttered to the the four black-clad men that flanked him.

They each descended on the lifeless body on the rug to proceed to unplug and obstruct several systems in its complicated armor, and move it aside. Triangulating the target was more difficult than normal, but Set was naught but efficient. Quick planning and cybernetic-aided calculations estimated this hallway on the 12th floor of the Cola-Co offices would be the best overlook to find his target. The building's exterior was almost entirely glass, providing him with excellent sight and illuminating the boring office interior with the morning sun cascading in from beyond the bio-dome.

At the side of a fake fiddle-leaf fig, he crouched down onto one knee and proceeded to cut a hole through the reinforced glass with a wrist-mounted laser device. From within his cloak he grabbed and unfolded his weapon of choice, a customized handheld Gauss Rifle with a front grip and a portable power cell integrated in his vest. Kyros' warnings remained in his mind, but he wasn't worried. This rifle couldn't be stopped by even bulkheads, much less the flesh and bones of even one of these 'divines'. As it whirred to life its sophisticated software linked up to his mask and displayed a reticle where the rifle was currently pointed, as Set leaned the barrel through the hole in the window and began his hunt.

The landscape before him was less than desirable. A ghetto, more or less. Winding outdated streets and infrastructure that for some ungodly reason hadn't been been updated in decades. Paired with the sheer scale of this district that Sol forgot, he was forced to rely more on his technological advantages than he was used to. His mask and cybernetic eyes linked their search, and scanned every life sign available to them. Each vagrant drunk and passed out on the street, each early morning hustler making their way to whatever unholy business they conducted. Finally, just across a rooftop down into a mostly cleared area, he was alerted to a potential match exiting a decrepit shed.

Quickly he swung his aim over and zoomed in towards the area. Much to his satisfaction the spitting image of Reginald Burkhardt walked across the plot, but Set paused his as the door behind him moved again. He leaned his head to one side and zoomed in further as he caught a glimpse of a second white-haired male wearing a large jacket and expensive-looking clothing in the doorway. "Potential second target spotted. Engaging." He whispered across his radio link, then focused back towards the first target. He clicked his tongue with annoyance as he noticed he'd already mounted a motorcycle, and swiftly shifted his rifle.

A resounding boom erupted from it's barrel, as hypersonic bullets shred the sound barrier and crossed the distance in less than the blink of an eye. It caused the men behind him to jump in surprise. Two bullets in quick succession pierced the motorcycle's engine and front suspension, before Set raised his sights towards Reginald's head and squeezed the trigger.

Merciless Medic kasigi

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Khepri

| 978 Laurier Ave. | 7.46AM - September 2nd - 2403 |​

"You Sovereign of all Gods, You God of Life, you Creator of Eternity, You Maker of Heaven." Paladin Khepri's manic voice echoed throughout the lobby that now stank of gasoline. Several men in gas masks and combat armor wandered the ground floor halls with red metal fuel tanks, making sure to soak the expensive carpeted floor all the way through. Several more plastic cans had already been placed throughout the level. "All the Gods rejoice at your rising!" He exclaimed and raised his flail before him, with its ball already wreathed in holy flames. At the sudden gesture, one of the civilian hostages to his side whimpered out a pathetic "No, please-" which was swiftly cut short as Khepri raised his off-hand and let a 50. caliber bullet splatter their brain across the wallpapers.

The floor had the broken bodies of a small contingency of peacekeepers scattered across it. A drone was pierced via a heavy pneumatic spear to the mantle piece over a fiercely intense fireplace. The only civilians still alive were the ones too in shock or too afraid to whimper, each of them tied down on their knees in two rows facing each other with Khepri wandering back and forth between them.

"People who have been long dead, come forward with cries of joy, to behold your beauties every day. You go forth each day over Heaven and Earth." He continued his prayer as the masked men each in turn returned to the foyer and began dousing the lines of people with the last of their gasoline. As the prayers were coming to a close, they left the building with Khepri lingering behind. He raised his firearm and reloaded it with new bullets, continuing his verse, "Those who follow you sing to you with joy, and they bow down their foreheads to the earth in gratitude for your radiant blessings." With his arms outstretched ceremoniously, he finally finished.

"All men live when you shine."

In one swift movement he fired an incendiary bullet at a gas canister stood on the front desk, and turned to saunter out of the building as a cloud of fire blew out the windows and rapidly spread to engulf the entire first two floors of the building. He stopped in the street outside, where several unmarked black vans had closed off the road and a group of twenty or so armed men now stood with automatic rifles or flame throwers held to their chests. His men saluted him, and he barked out his first order.

"Defensive positions! We'll smoke this fox out."

Plutoni

 

[kasigi]

The Predator

GARSCH

Arden Garsch

Underdeveloped Urban Area, Nutopia

In turning his back to Reginald, Arden was flooded with feelings of discomfort and unease. Showing vulnerability to one who Arden's mind labeled as a threat was nigh unbearbale, but his intentions were without deceit; they made an agreement, and Arden was a man of his word.

Either way, seemed like Reginald was getting comfortable rather quickly. "Ah, I apologize. I wish I did find a better place, but I felt like you were already hot on my trail as it is, so I didn’t want to wait too long playing abandoned shed hunting. But yes, I think I’ll call it… Void. Just feels right…” Arden stifled a laugh directed towards the man's eagerness to give his abilities a title. Isn't that a bit deranged? Though, upon further scrutiny, he realized that criticizing a notion like that would undermine the absurdity of the situation at large. The gifts they'd been granted were fantastical in their own right, seeking to best nurture the host into a being of power and status. Arden would do anything to rationalize his future actions, as it would be the only way he could live with himself. It was fate, was it not?

"Ooh, how fun! Puttin' fear into the hearts of men with that one, I bet? I'll have to wrack my brain for mine, figure out something that fits me. Ya' know what you can do with that stuff, anyways?" He glanced back at Reginald momentarily as he led him to the entrance, moreso out of habit in talking to another rather than making sure he wasn't getting ready to carve Arden's throat out.

“Oh, I know, but I intend to have fun before my time is up. Once we can match each other in power, I will feel more comfortable fighting to stay alive, and you will have the best hunt of your life. Either succumbing to your prey or you finally capturing me and becoming a god… Well, we’ll see.” He was serious. Arden liked his resolve, but he couldn't quite get a read on him. Everyone with this "blessing" would find their goal to be killing the rest of the blessed, but they'd have to figure out what the future afterwards entailed. Arden didn't really have a plan, other than fulfilling his worldly desires, there was no grand scheme he was working towards. He needed to put more thought into it. It's not like he desired to rule over humanity with an iron fist, with aims of developing dictatorship or anything particularly cruel; hell, maybe he could do some good for the world, when all is said and done? If anything's left, that is.

"Lookin' forward to the challenge, you better not fuck it up. I'm countin' on you to make this fun for me, yeah?"

The piercing rays of the morning sun once again illuminated the two men as they left the shed, Arden stopping to allow the man behind him to gain some ground. “If the others are aware they can feel the other Divines, they must be holding themselves up in a protective area and sending their little followers, no doubt. Hell, we might become the hunted soon enough, or we already are. Or, gaining intel. Of course, I-” Arden studied the man as he paused, puzzled by his sudden moment of realization. Did he sense something, some kind of danger? “Something feels wrong. Should we check it out? I… I need to see…” Arden couldn't help but tense up. Another divine? He didn't sense anything. However, his instincts tickled his brain. He wasn't sure exactly what to be looking out for, but he reciprocated Reginald's feelings.

Arden's tone was more serious, his words more articulated. "Gonna have to be thoughtful about our next moves, Reginald. We don't know anything about the other divines, but they're in a similar predicament. We're gonna have to use that as one of primary advantages if we're gonna make ground here. Rush into things without thinking, and we'll meet a pretty quick fuckin' end. With that said.." He glanced around as well. They needed to stay on the move. "I think I'm feelin', what you're feelin.. We'll talk about our next move while we're not stranded in one spot, yeah?"

Approaching the bike, Arden let out a whistle of excitement. He was entertained. As Reginald climbed on, Arden couldn't help but comment as he prepared to climb aboard. "Didn't think you'd have taste like this, Reginald! Ya' didn't quite look the type to-" As soon as the first shot rang out, Arden had already outstretched an arm towards Reginald in an attempt to yank him off the bike, aiming for the nearest cover to hide their location from the rifleman. "Company! We're on the hunt already!" His heart was fluttering with excitement. It was time already, huh?

mentions: Prizzy Kriyze Merciless Medic

Code by Serobliss

 

[Merciless Medic]

Reginald Burkhardt​

Date: September 2, 2403 | 7:40ish am
Location: Abandoned Shed, Nutopia
Interactions: Arden, Set
Mentions: N/A
kasigi Prizzy Kriyze

Heh, this guy was pretty cool. He didn’t really know what to do with his power, so he just shrugged. But he wasn’t willing to fuck up this chance of surviving longer. And hopefully, Arden didn’t disappoint. He looked back at Arden upon hopping his motorcycle, hearing him out. Yeah, probably a good idea not to get too crazy. But he felt like he was missing something, and the pull of knowing was only getting worse. He hated missing out on information.

Upon hearing Arden’s excitement for his motorcycle, Reginald chuckled. A more genuine and less crazed sound. Well, that was when his motorcycle was attacked. He tried springing into action - having noted the trajectory of the attack - but Arden was already pulling him away, the bullet missing his head and creating a sizable crater in the shed he was in front of. Breathing heavy, he looked at Arden, then out into the open air. Whoever was there wanted to kill him already? He chuckled.

“Looks like we have something else to deal with. They’re sniping from somewhere slightly above us. They must be further away. We’ll use the abandoned sheds to hop through and get closer to wherever they are. The more they shoot at us, the better we can pinpoint where they are. The problem is… Getting shot.” He muttered. Looking around, he did find other people, who were either too drunk or tired to notice the shooting, or were cowering in fear. “If we have to, we can use them as possible sources of information or as meat shields if you aren't too against that.” He nodded his head towards those shambling or snoozing in a stupor.

He pulled something out of his pocket, thankful for having brought something with him just in case he were targeted. “Let’s see how they take a flashbang.” This wasn’t an ordinary flashbang. It also fried electrical components upon viewing the flash. He pulled the small, semi-flat canister from inside his jacket. “And before you say that I promised earlier that I didn’t bring anything with me, you are technically still correct. I didn’t bring anything to deal with you potentially hunting me.”

He then threw the now un-pinned canister, lobbing it over the shed. Covering his eyes, he grabbed Arden’s sleeve and tugged on him to run to the next shed, the canister exploding in a bright flash of light, nearby cameras ceasing in visual function momentarily.