[quote=@Bright_Ops]He decided on the female knight that had taken delight in executing the helpless and tried to kill Amelie earlier; If her own gods refused to protect her for her dishonorable behavior, that was on her and no one else. The choice made, he closed his eyes and continued to pray.[/quote]
"That fucking gearhead was a proxy!" Hiecro exclaimed, eyes wide in shock, her voice barely audible over the sound of metal shearing through the air, one piece of shrapnel impacting against her armor and flattening itself in its futile effort to continue in the direction it had been going. Hiecro turned her head to look at Donny and gave him a cross look. "They said he was with you, fucker. Is that how it is? That why you've been murdering every-"

There was a sudden lurch in all of the passengers' stomachs at the same time as their ears popped. The details of the city below exploded into focus as the slug continued to descend, individual buildings unstretching and gaining sharp relief to accompany their decompressing edges and corners. Directly below them was wide, raised platform that looked to be made of concrete, painted with yellow lines and ringed by red, domed lights. Clearly a landing pad of some sort. The slug's velocity had slowed down tremendously, and thankfully it appeared that what Hiecro had insisted earlier was true. As the invisible sphere of force began to slow, its occupants slowed along with it despite being suspended within its interior. 

At least, [i]most[/i] of the passengers. Ironically, the only person not to slow along with the sphere and the other passengers was the very individual who had declared it would happen. With a gasp as the wind and words were knocked out of her, Hiecro seemingly flew straight up into the slug's roof - and with a curious scraping noise like sandpaper wearing against stone tiles, flakes of her armor began to pour from her frame like a cloud of cinders, each one visibly glowing with heat. The next moment, Hiecro was gone - the inner wall's rapid rotation adhering her to its surface with centrifugal force, reducing her form to a blurred, black, humanoid form that was rapidly crumpling in on itself as a mist of powdered, superheated ceramic flakes began to circulate around the edges of the slug's interior.

A few scant moments later, the flying pieces of shrapnel, bone, and the cascade of grisly charnel all lost their momentum, as though the invisible spinning wall was no longer spinning so violently. The crumpled armor that had contained Hiecro - now so warped and twisted that there was no doubt she had not survived, was dribbling gore from every small crack in the plate and seeping through the surviving chainmail as it eerily began to slow. Like a rushing rapid, the various debris - organic and not - rolled and dribbled to the bottom of the sphere, leaving only Hiecro's body to continue being swung about the slug's equator like a stone in a sling.

The slug slammed straight down onto the landing pad, unleashing a concussive shockwave of force akin to the one that had been produced when Hiecro and her partner had first landed by the remains of the limousine, flinging out a cloud of embers and grisly rain in every direction. The debris clattered, slapped, smacked, and splattered against the concrete, leaving the passengers to collapse atop it all along with Luca's decapitated chassis and Amelie's lobotomized corpse.

Hiecro's body, though, was flung out from them just as the wall of force that had been suspending it vanished, the twisted, wracked coffin soaring out through the air like a blade. The landing pad was situated in the middle of a wide, grassy field - distant buildings brought into immediate focus while the intervening space was compressed in upon itself, reducing so much turf and grass into an incomprehensible pea-green line of [i]mess[/i] drawn in a rough circle around the landing zone. There was a single cobblestone path leading away from the landing site, where four individuals dressed in formal suits were standing in anticipation around a single, hunched figure ensconced in a wheel-chair and towing an I.V. drip. Directly behind them past the influence of the compressed space was the soaring front facade of the New Nemea School of Engineering, the details of the structure hopelessly mashed together until it resembled nothing more than a wall of chaotically intermingled gothic stonework, including gargoyles merged halfway into the sides of buttresses and further engulfed by elaborate archways. In every other direction, a blurred chainlink fence had been ensnared in the distant structures of residences and streets that surrounded the landing area. The only firm detail that could be discerned was in the relatively small patch of space immediately surrounding the passengers, with a small finger of wavering detail drawn across the air and ground extending out to encompass their welcoming committee.

They received far more than they had bargained for when Hiecro's twisted corpse, all wrapped in her malformed armor, twisted through the air like some hideous insect. One of the flattened legs cleanly decapitated the man standing to the wheelchair's right, while the bulk of its mass slammed into the unfortunate bystander who had been standing just beside him, toppling them to the ground with a shout of dismay as the headless corpse crumpled to its feet, blood briefly spraying in every direction before turning to a gurgling dribble.

The man in the wheelchair looked between the jumbled mess on the landing pad and the collapsed heap of the fallen men entangled with Heicro's remains to his right in a mixture of shock and horror. He was an elderly individual who had the relative fortune of having kept most of his shock-white hair, keeping it slicked back in a wavy mane. He wore a modest, spark-like beard that looked to have only recently grown in, covering lips that were so red and wet it was as though blood was dribbling from them. His left eyelid hung in a peculiar fashion, as though paralyzed, atop a permanently quirked left cheekbone. He wore a plain button white-shirt, with a jungle of tubing and plastic braces running through it, connecting the man to the I.V. drip and running to more discrete areas along his wheelchair. The man's upper chest was wholly exposed, revealing a gleaming patch of silver running like a jagged scar down from the man's right shoulder and across his collarbone before blooming like a flower in the center of his chest.

"What is happening?!?" He cried out, his voice pained and filled with shock. His eyes were wide, but had an unfocused look to them that suggested them were always that way. "Wilkins, Berter, are you two alright? What is going on? What is that thing - get it away..."

[@Cruallassar][@Doc Doctor][@Holmishire][@WiseDragonGirl]