[b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]CRASH[/i][/b] [b][i]SHATTER[/i][/b] It sounded like a one-man stampede slamming against street pavement, heavy impacts smashing through glass and steel, leaving nothing but totaled buildings in its wake. It saw like a black and gold blur swinging its arms out, backhanding pedestrian vehicles with a fist as hard and compact as folded iron, smacking them to the side as he cleared a path toward his destination. Silently, and without expression of any kind save for gritted golden teeth, the bald man in the black suit and tie bolted like a marathon runner, his dark shades flecked with dust from the destruction he caused on his path to Granstrum. Goldman, like Thomas, had quickly ascertained the identity of Allure City's leader via depictions of his feline face spray-painted on the ghetto neighborhoods resembling eastern Europe projects, posters of him plastered on the walls of parks benches those of a shady park in south central Los Angeles. He caught a holographic, pixelated neko-image projected from a pagoda amid countless other information ads designed to attract and persuade people into opening up their wallets. His face didn't show it, just like it didn't show anything without him willing it; such was the nature of being a man made of solid gold. Goldman did know however, that Merse was bad for business. He and his brother Eddy had associates down in Spain's southern border-- associates who paid the men handsomely to supply them with weapons that were smuggled across the Mediterranean Sea, into Africa's wastes so that could be used in future conflicts over radioactive soil. All that profit, all that hard work had been crushed in a matter of seconds, and it wasn’t as if the brothers had simply gotten those weapons for free and handed them over to the Spanish. They had to be bought at a high price due to the nature of false identification chips being such a bitch to manufacture. This raised the overall cost to astronomical proportions. Merse would have to pay for his crime against the White Syndicate with his life. Goldman’s expression changed, his brows scrunching together as he let out a voiceless scream, golden bolts of lightning showering off his frame. Due to his sheer weight, Goldman could not run very fast, but as the voltage coursing through him increased, so too did his speed accelerate, the intervals between his bullish stampede shortening into a rapid-fire dash of pot-holed pavement. The sight of his golden body transformed into a golden blur as he raced toward the commotion, upending everything in his path. The Golden Boy was on a mission Jacknathema and the Mobius Operative, both of whom he’d kill should either of them impede his path toward Granstrum. [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b] [b][i]THUMP[/i][/b].................................................................................... The alien was either blind or stupid. In Eddy’s opinion it was probably both. He watched with paltry satisfaction as the undead horde dogpiled Sciac, fangs slamming down atop the creature’s hunchbacked neck, ripping and tearing and swallowing viscera down their starving gullets only to choke and vomit as the oils coating its skin revealed a swarm of bacteria lurking within its blackened depths, acting in defense of its wretched form. Its eyes scanned frantically about, having clearly overestimated itself and underestimated both the humans of Earth as well as its demons. Ravenous as a pack of hyenas, the horde forced the bacterias back down their throats, rupturing their esophagus and stomach which caused the swarm to mix with their cursed blood, given to them by their master. While supernatural in form, vampirism spread itself like a virus, using the crimson river as its carrier, and like a virus it hijacked other cells, and used them to reproduce en masse. Slowly, but surely, Sciac was being converted into one of the undead, but he would not be turned into just any undead. He would be magnificent, monstrously magnificent in both size and destructive power. Like his brother Goldman, Eddy had good reason for wanting to punish Mr. Granstrum. But Eddy was a businessman. Goldman, though intelligent, was far more proficient at combat than he was at talking negotiations or making deals with prospective partners. He much preferred to beat and pulverize things, which was fine, as it made him an excellent enforcer. Stabbing his cane into the pavement, Eddy spread his dark magic down through the earth itself, tainting the roots that occupied the soil and summoned them with a rupturing explosion of dirt and asphalt. Ordinarily the tips of the roots were used for drinking up water, but empowered by the Vampire’s malevolent blight their tips hardened, the rough, lumpish texture smoothing out to form a highly flexible skewer vine. Shooting forth with serpentine speed, Sciac’s body stiffened as it was infiltrated by a network of cursed roots pumping foul magic up through his veins. The man in ivory nodded with malice in his eyes as he watched the lanky beast swell to colossal proportions, its bones cracking, muscle and ligaments tearing apart in an endless cycle of destruction and reformation. Its taloned feet sliced through the ground as its knees gave way under the splintering of its shins, causing it to lean forward into an office building, residents of the lobby fleeing in terror as Sciac desperately tried to support himself, only support beams to give way and collapse, crushing all inside. In the midst of its growth, its countless eyes caught sight of Eddy, and for a moment he wanted to charge the Vampire, only for his malicious cravings to be suppressed and reprogrammed. Sciac’s legs expanded along with his arms and rib-cage, limbs pushing through pavement, across the street and into another much larger building, this one a tall skyscraper. Glass shattered as the building imploded from having its central pillars taken out, creating a massive plume of dust and debris. A shrill scream burst from the jaws of Sciac as he stood over four hundred feet in the air, blood-red oil, symbolic of its assimilation and transformation into a vampiric monstrosity poured off its skin, triggering an animalistic feeding frenzy within the horde that suddenly ceased being slow and sluggish and commenced a rapacious rampage of hunger. Without warning, he released his blade from the street and flung it at Sciac’s forehead and leaped, landing gracefully atop the corrupted alien’s skull. Eddy shouted in a thick, Romanian accent, his voice projected as a massive loudspeaker from “I HAVE A PROPOSITION FOR YOU. SURRENDER TO OUR WHITE SYNDICATE EMPIRE, OR I DESTROY YOUR WORTHLESS CITY AND EVERY CITIZEN WITHIN IT, ONE SKYSCRAPER AT A TIME!” *** Arthur’s eyes widened when he heard the sounds of panicked gunfire, accompanied by General Heinzmann cursing under his breath. Had Merse decided to retaliate for the attack on Allure City by the White Syndicate? Instead what he saw was far more disgusting: his soldiers were being eaten by some ravenous relic of French medieval history. Too awestruck for words, Heinzmann panicked as the obese knight came treading toward him, straight into the tent where the Cannibal was being held prisoner. “Gott in Himmel!” Arthur thoughtlessly claimed, “what is that awful stench!?” Phillipe’s foul odor was so rancid, especially to a man who had literally been turned into a pig demon; it was so awful, he could hardly breathe. Not knowing his own strength, nor realizing that Agron’s presence had completely vanished from his handcuffs in favor of more pressing conflict, Arthur shattered the handcuffs and stumbled his way straight out of the tent. Amid the sound of crushing bone and wet gurgly lip smacking that came with Heinzmann’s corpse being hideously consumed came Arthur’s loud screaming voice. “Hey dicker Arsch! Ich bekomme, dass Sie hungrig sind, aber es gibt eine enorme Staatsgröße-Stadt, die Spanien RICHTIGES FUCKING NEXT TO US ersetzt hat! Warum nimmst du nicht deinen Whale Knight Ass da drüben und stinkst stattdessen DIESEN Platz, [i]EH[/i]!?” *** Consumed by his own fury, the Herald’s words blew apart like ashes in a sea of blood-red flames both figuratively and literally. Thomas hated the Val’gara, hating them almost as much as he hated the bastard that killed his parents. Agron resonated with this hatred, absorbed the negative electrical impulses coursing through the Operative’s nerves and used it as fuel for the Red Aura. And yet, despite the back and forth screaming between the two combatants, he did recall the monster’s last words before it commenced its second attack. The only words to this day, still struck a guilty chord within Thomas’ mind. [i]YOU KILLED HER![/i] Sensing the sudden rush of shock and grief that befell him, Agron claimed full control of the lieutenant’s body, manipulating him like a puppet. Jamming Thomas’ elbow bones into the fissure created by Jacknathema, the Shape-Shifter disintegrated an opening and pulled Thomas through the aperture, closing up just as quickly as it opened. This was only the beginning however, it could feel the Val’gara tunneling after him, but that wasn’t the only problem. Surrounded by dirt, there was little room to breathe, and when Agron perforated the soil to make room for air to get in, it felt Thomas choke on the toxic gas being released by the ruptured pipe. Siphoning the gas away via spontaneously formed vacuum tunnels, once the Operative was able to breathe again, it commenced compressing that which it had removed into large pockets, and placed them in Jacknathema’s path. A crescendo of explosions rocked Allure City on a subterranean level that would serve to temporarily impede the Val’garan’s progress, triggered by Agron’s ability to manipulate its temperature at any point upon its body, the chaos manifesting itself as flame-geysers shooting up through the cracks of the damaged city. Meanwhile, another aspect of Agron’s essence had spread to the source of the gas leak, and whereas Thomas would have heroically sealed it in an attempt to prevent more lives from being lost, the monster certainly did seal it the leak while cutting off a section that was roughly half a block long and aimed it at Jacknathema. Its tip extended into a studded spear that was as hard and sharp as corundum crystal, crafted side-mounted exhaust pipes that were separate from the rest of the gas in a matter of seconds, and ignited it like a rocket The Val’garan was skewered before it even had a chance to see what came after him, steel tendrils sprouting around him in a metal embrace that restrained him just long enough for Thomas to take aim with his USP. “DON’T YOU FUCKING TALK TO ME ABOUT MURDER!”. [b]BANG [/b]