[center][color=black][h1]Black Adam [color=red]♦[/color] Hostile Takeover[/h1][/color][/center] [color=gray]"The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. [u][b]And so long as men die[/b][/u], liberty will never perish." -Charlie Chaplin[/color] [color=a36209]"Chaplin did not account for Black Adam." -The Wizard Shazam[/color] [hr] [center] [color=black][h2]Shiruta [color=red]♦[/color] Khandaq [color=red]♦[/color] November [color=red]♦[/color] 2015 A.D.[/h2][/color][/center] [hr] Like many middle-eastern cities, the streets of Shiruta, the capital of Khandaq, were abuzz with life. The occasional Car horn blared its jarring warnings, messengers on bicycles dinged their little bells, children screamed or laughed or cried, while men chatted away in open-air cafes. It seemed every single thing on the street leading to the royal palace had it's own little voice, it's own noise to make. Almost every thing. A black-cloaked figure walked purposefully through the throngs of people and animals, and never made a sound. The crowd didn't part before the hooded figure, not exactly, there wasn't room for such a reaction in the crowd, but many shifted uncomfortably when forced to pass too close. Children shied away, the youngest of them bursting into tears as they neared the figure. The cloaked man ignored them all, moving inexorably toward the palace of Shiruta, the seat of power of Asim Muhunnad, the current "president" and dictator of Khandaq. Khandaq itself was a small country, having fallen further and further into irrelevance in the eyes of the world, focused as they were on it's more noisy neighbours in the middle-east, such as Israel, Pakisatn, and Iraq. This allowed Muhunnad's regime a freedom of movement that few leaders in the area could enjoy. As a result, the regime in power was corrupt and despotic, with Muhunnad himself at the decadent head of the country's affairs, sucking much of the wealth from his citizenry and living in relative opulence compared to the common folk of Khandaq. The country had a serious homeless issue, and both drugs and weaponry were moved through it's cities discreetly for the highest bidder. In short, it was a mercenary country, who's borders could be opened for the right price, and whose leader was a symbol of despair for it's people. A revolution was surely in the works. A new leader would be installed, and though nobody had risen to take the charge yet, those of a rebellious nature were confident that it was not possible for their leader to be any worse. The man on the street reached the checkpoint in front of the royal palace compound. The throngs of people tended to avoid this area, as the guards of Muhunnad were not particularly well-known for their pleasant demeanor. One such guard, in a military uniform and holding a firearm strapped to his shoulder, approached the hooded man, holding a hand up in the universal gesture for [i]halt.[/i] The hooded man held his ground, but did not step any further forward, raising his head and sweeping his eyes across the palace. [i]Different than I remember.[/i] "Hey, what're you doing? No visitors expected today. Who are you?" The guard asked. The cloaked man ignored him, removing his hood to get a better view of the palace. The guard raised his weapon to the man's face and switched off the safety. The sky above Shiruta had grown dark with storm clouds, and they rumbled threateningly now. "I will shoot you." The guard said calmly when the cloaked man did not respond, flicking off the safety on his rifle. Abruptly, the cloaked man looked the guard in the eye, fixing him with a glare. Thunder boomed as the cloaked man narrowed his eyes on the guard's face. The guard took a step back, and his comrades behind him stepped forward, raising their own weapons at the dark figure. It began to rain, lightly at first, but the frequency of the drops was increasing steadily. A bolt of crimson lightning streaked the sky for a moment, catching the eyes of the guards momentarily and bathing the area in bright scarlet light. "I said what are you doing here? Answer me! Say something or we'll blow you away!" Shouted the first guard, nervous now. [b][color=darkred]"Shazam."[/color][/b] The cloaked man said calmly. High above the city, the heavens seemed to roar in protest as the eldritch lightning shot down to meet it's caller. Somewhere, Mephistopheles gave a quiet chuckle. The bolt of blood-red lightning seemed to carry with it the screams and wailing of a hundred people, and struck where the man was standing. There was a massive explosion of hellfire at it's point of impact. The guards, and many of the citizens who had gathered to watch the spectacle, were sent hurtling backward covered in hellish flames that the rain did not put out. At the epicenter of the blast, crackling with crimson electricity, and wreathed in hellfire, stood the cloaked man, now transformed. Slowly, the powerful figure levitated off of his feet, and began to float toward the gates leading into the compound surrounding the palace. An alarm went off from somewhere within, and air-raid sirens called their mournful cries through the peels of thunder. The gate to the palace compound was a chain-link fence on wheels, twenty feet high, and topped with barbed wire. Without slowing, the man lifted a hand and pointed to the gate casually, and the red lightning surrounding his form traveled across his arm, pooling in a crackling orb at the tip of his finger for a moment, and then shot forward in an arc of crimson plasma that struck the metal fencing and spread all throughout it, melting the gate into nothing. The man floated through, over the molten heap. Gunfire rang out across the courtyard, the insistent popping of automatic rifles, and the occasional louder crack of a larger-caliber from atop the palace's roofs. Bullets struck demonically-enhanced flesh, bouncing off of the man and ricocheting across the courtyard. The rumbling of thunder, popping of gunfire, and crackling of lightning served to cover the sound of a tank engine roaring to life. The cloaked man stopped his forward momentum, and looked up toward the highest-reaches of the palace's spires. He began to ascend, scanning each window he passed, hunting his query. The tank took aim, adjusting it's barrel to account for the movement of such a small target, and fired, the boom rivaling that of the thunder above. The man had enough time to turn his head and search for the noise before he was struck with the highly-explosive shell and was rocketed into the ground many yards away. The commander of the tank crew popped the hatch and looked at where the man had fallen, though smoke and dust obscured his view, and he couldn't see anything. He lifted his binoculars to his face, and looked through them just in time to see a large fist before it shattered them, and his head, spreading gore all across the tank's back flank. The cloaked man no longer held his composure, his eyes wide in anger, his mouth pulled back into a snarl. With a grunt of effort (or perhaps simply rage) the man lifted the tank above his head, and with a magically enhanced roar, threw it into a group of the guards who had been taking ineffective potshots at him. The tank smashed into the ground and rolled several times, shredding several of the guards into pulpy pieces. The guard's were running now, no more gunshots could be heard. The cloaked man flew toward the gates and into the palace itself, smashing through the large wooden doors with his shoulder. All was quiet, save the patter of rain and the rumbling of the thunder above the city. After a few minutes of quiet, the crowds started to move in out of curiosity. Nobody heard the man say the word, but another massive, blood-red bolt of lightning shot down toward the compound, this time into the palace itself. There was another explosion, then silence again. For nearly five minutes, the quiet deepened, as did the density of the crowds surrounding the palace. Quite suddenly, a section of the roof blew apart, and the cloaked man flew high into the sky through the breach. In his left hand, he carried a man by the ankle, who was screaming and flailing. The assembled crowd murmured and exclaimed in awe, but a bolt of lightning from the sky and a crash of thunder forced them to silence, and the man spoke. [color=black][b]"Behold! I am Teth-Adam, God-and-king of this land since ages long past!"[/b][/color] He shouted, his voice magically amplified, as if the thunder itself carried his words, [color=black][b]"I return to the land of my people, only to find you weakened. What have you accomplished in the thousands of years without me? You have withered away, until the superpowers of the world have nearly swallowed you up. No more. I have returned! Fear me and rejoice, mortals, for I have come to lead my chosen people into glorious prosperity! As my first act as your God returned, I will rid you of your weak leaders, for I am a jealous lord. Let none but me sit upon the throne of Khandaq, from now until the end of time!"[/b][/color] As he finished speaking, he tossed the man in his right hand to his death, his body falling to crushing destruction on the street below. As the crowd gathered to see who it was, hushed murmurs ran through the group. Asim Muhunnad was dead. [color=black][b]"Now, prostrate yourselves, or die as he did."[/b][/color] Adam commanded, and the people did so.