Fallenreaper

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Got some stuff in the pipeline. Also, trying to get to the collab at the satellite...but I have a bad case of writer's block

@nitemare shape

*pops open the head, cleans out the block then shuts head top once more. Shouts at NMS* Try starting it u again! Ded, you have any jump starts for his brain in case this doesn't work?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

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Location: Lachance Stronghold, Henderson, NV
Time: Early Morning, Before the Satellite Attack

”After all that time and effort I spent talking to that bitch, she just ups and leaves?! What am I, a fucking agony aunt supposed to give transient assistance and aid?!”

Suffice to say, Kat was less than pleased at Marie’s sudden departure from the group. The sudden departure, especially hot on the heels with the encounter with the… oh, what was her name, the Ambassador? That sounded pretentious enough, that was probably it. The Ambassador probably had something to do with it… The fae were all intertwined - it was all part of their philosophy from what Kat had seen of them, all of them working in one giant inter-familial strife and conflict, like a huge dynastic squabble over who ate all the pies, and how much did they pay for that troubadour. And mortals were there to be snapped up like flies in a spider’s web, mesmerised into selling what free will they had for flitting, fleeting power. Kat could only imagine how Ben was feeling - not that she needed to imagine any such thing.

Exasperated at their current predicament, Kat headed back over to Ben’s room, only to hear him yell in fear and desperation. She burst through the door as he finished another sentence, and started speaking without hesitating to find out what it was he had said.

”Benjamin, what’s wrong? Are you alright?!”

Ben abruptly stopped just outside the door. His hand pressed into the framing, steadying himself as he looked at the individual blocking his way. Confusion faded into relief when he recognized Katarina. He used his left hand to rub the sleep grit from his eyes.

“Yeah, just a fucked up dream,” Benjamin stated, trying to brush off the effects.

It was hard since he was sweating, pale and trembling all over.

”Are you sure?” Katarina, without thinking, embraced him tightly, if only to reassure him and give a material anchor… in case he thought he was perhaps still dreaming.

”You don’t sound alright, or feel it either. Do you need something to eat?”

Benjamin tried not to flinch again. Physical contact was difficult because he rarely ever encountered it as he let her hug him, using her body to balance and help him remain upright. After a few moments, he spoke.

“I’m not really hungry and I feel awful. I guess we should figure out what to do next.”

”The first order of business is making sure you’re okay, as far as I’m concerned… and then we can find out where that damnable witch has gone to and get some answers as to why she just decided to… up sticks, as it were. Without even so much as a by-your-leave.” Kat shook her head and sighed heavily, pulling away slightly and giving Ben a lookover.

“Wait...what? Marie left? When?” Ben abruptly interrupted, his expression concerned now.

”Marie… left. I don’t know why, I don’t really know when, but… she’s gone. I don’t know where she’s gone or what she intends to do. We had a talk, and then, the next thing I know, she’s just… gone. But anyway, we should probably concern ourselves with ourselves. Things have been pretty rough these last couple days, right? We could plan the next course of action with your companions as well… those twins? I don’t know their names, apologies…” Kat cracked her neck absent-mindedly, and looked about to see if the aforementioned companions were anywhere to be seen.

“I guess,” Ben felt a churning in his middle.

Suddenly an urge to leave tried to overwhelm him causing his fingers to tighten around the frame, his knuckles white and verging on ripping off the wood. Gradually he inhaled, then exhaled to stomp down his anxiety.

“Ji and Yeong, I think? And yeah, the last few days have been pretty rough. We can’t really get a break, can we?”

”Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright…” Kat took hold of Ben’s hands and gently squeezed them, concerned at his sudden change in mood and its gravity; his reaction worried her. She had no idea that Marie’s departure would have had such an impact on him, but it… strangely made sense - Ben and Marie seemed to know each other, be familiar - were they part of the same group, that Marie had now simply abandoned? With Ji and Yeong, the twins? Could be possible.

”N-no… life really could give us a break, that’s for certain. If you want, we could head out, get some fresh air - you could probably use some after all of the scheisse that you’ve been through, especially after the Hounds. Sound good to you?” Kat smiled as warmly as she could manage, despite her fangs perhaps lending a more bestial appearance to her features then she would have liked. She also knew that the sun would make her plan a bit more complicated than it initially appeared - though she was no Draculesti, and would not be instantly destroyed upon exposure, Katarina was still vulnerable to the light of the sun - something that she dimly remembered researching work-arounds from four hundred years ago… Wouldst if only the Crusade had not happened.

“No, it’s not going to fucking help,” Ben blurted out as he moved past her.

He was angry and bitter. That was much was clear to Kat while she watched him leave in a hurry, seeming to put distance between them. The elder vampire was left standing there along with her thoughts. Gradually her skin flickered with an alarm when unseen eyes raked themselves down along her spine, traveling from head to toe. As if sizing her up from behind. Kat’s figure whirled about to face the source: a small, wiry black crow.

Its sharp angled head tilted to the right then left. One beady red eye always keeping watch over her. It clicked its beak a bit, softly snapping it open and shut. Before Kat could shoot off her first attempt at a counter-spell, a mist engulfed her shape. It muffled her voice causing the magic spell to disappear almost immediately. Then she was gone. On the bench where Ben had laid sat a single note, one appearing to be written by Katarina, stating she had business to take care of and she would be back. The flutter of wings was all that was heard before it vanished into thin air followed by a soft, feminine chuckle.

_{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}

🐺

_{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

&

Location: Sherman Square
Time: During the HoH attack.

---

Racheli felt weighed down by the shock of bullets entering her body. Their tips shredded the skin, penetrated the muscles, and shattered the bone before she hit the ground. Water sprayed across her back when she landed. All the air in her lungs escaped her body in a swift movement. Life leaked from her wounds to taint the rainwater collecting nearby. In her mind, she knew she should’ve died. This was not something a normal human lived through and stood up to tell the tale later.

It took forever for her mentality to catch up to the fact she was still alive. Her mind was so trapped in its own little hell that she barely registered her limp figure being lifted up and hauled to the roof by Fletch.

With the sudden impact, her body twitched. The logic of being human and being a monster fought in her consciousness until finally, they collided. This was enough to snap her from her ‘death’ into the world of the living. Nanites saturating the blood began to tear the material at its very molecule level giving the impression of acid burning away the fabric. They altered the base structure into something more organic in order to patch the vital organs first.

At the last of Fletch’s words, Racheli’s figure jerked upright. Her mouth inhaled air rapidly causing her to break out into a coughing fit. Black blood trickle across her mouth before she leaned forward then vomited forth whatever remained in her stomach. Thankfully for her, it wasn’t much. Another stream of acidic blood sprayed across the roof’s concrete surface before dissolving the material and trying to slither back to its origins. In fact, all the droplets left in Nemesis’ wake began to deny nature’s own laws on their way toward her. The farthest ones died before even making it an inch beyond their starting point. Long exposure to the air appeared to be lethal or too much to handle.

For the moments she had remained by Nemesis’s side to try and stem the bleeding, Kayla was preparing for the worst that was to come. What if this was it? she thought. Evergreen will not be happy with me if I got through the blockade of the mafia war just to see her die? she shuddered at the thought of a pissed-off meta gunning for her, who had only her bow and arrow to protect herself. Her thoughts were detracted from this idea as Nemesis jerked upright.

“SHIT! SHIT!” Nemesis cursed out loud through heavy pants.

”Take it easy,” Kayla responded, keeping calm and composed as she tried to ‘scramble’.

Seeing the material on the woman’s body fizzling away and the acidic blood dissolving the rooftop had been the least of her concerns, especially as the blood was on her hands. The main thing was to make sure Nemesis was calmed down to slow down the bleed. ”Not to state the obvious, but you have been shot. It is pretty bad, but you can make it through if you stay calm.” Surprisingly, in a stark contrast from her confrontation with War-Pulse, her voice was calm, almost having a soothing tone in it to try and calm the meta.

From behind Fletch, she heard a male’s voice speak. His tone was icy and uncaring about Racheli’s condition thanks to his annoyance at her,“It’s about time you were woken from that illusion that you’re human.”
At first, the archer wanted to turn around and see who was behind the voice that came from outside of her vision. However, with her bow still resting a few yards away from her, there was not much to do but to keep tending to the wounds Nemesis had. ”Who says that she isn’t human to begin with?” Kayla responded, catching sight of the man behind her in her peripheral vision. ”After all, she looks human in my eyes. Besides, she has made morality choices. Surely that’s a trait a human has?”

“That’s…amusing,” the Virus began as he walked around Racheli, finally coming into Fletch’s view.

The speaker was a white man in his thirties with dark black hair, the strands cut short and parted at the upper left of his head. The bangs were combed to the right side giving him a very well groomed appearance. Draped across his lithe figure were a simple polo shirt and slacks giving him a fatherly guise to his image.

“Morals are subjective. Even the very people we are fighting truly believe they are benefiting humanity by eliminating those with threatening evolutionary qualities or abilities that could easily be used to selfishly hurt others. For their narrow-minded view, they believe it’s immoral not to act out for the survival of humanity,” the Virus’ tone was dark but firm in his words. A poison seeping through his lips into each syllable.

“More than just humans show this trait, even for selfish reasons, but they aren’t considered equals in your race’s eyes.”

“Looks are deceiving and morality is purely subjective. It doesn’t make you human,” the Virus retorted as he came to a stop before both women,“Even a monster can make a moral choice based on their understanding, but doesn’t make them human.”

Kayla gritted her teeth when the man responded to her comments. She had to admit that using the philosophical workaround to his comment about Nemesis’s status as a human wasn’t the best course of action. Even so, she wasn’t going to allow for that comment to stand. Especially when he dragged the Hounds into the argument. ”While I can certainly give you that much for a lot of the morality comments,” she started, her eyes furrowing towards his, ”I think the Hounds have lost all their standing in ‘fighting for humanity’ when they destroyed two towns and decimated a city, killing hundreds of thousands of lives. Innocent men, women and children that have nothing to do with their agenda. Doesn’t seem to me that they are the champions for non-meta people after such an act. Certainly the case in my non-metahuman mind.”

”To be honest, if there are more than just humans and animals out there then I wouldn’t know about them, purely from ignorance. But my point is that she’s still not a monster. Just a human who has abilities beyond my comprehension who just so happens to put up with an asshole such as yourself.”

It cast a casual look at Racheli then added,“She merely needs material to mend herself and it will be like it never happened. She still won’t listen to me over it.”

Racheli glared at the Virus, who shrugged it off. Feeling her actions were getting her nowhere, she finally glanced down at her chest then spotted the holes Fletch mentioned. A hand gently pressed to her chest before she pulled it away, the glove covered in a tar-like substance.

"I'll be fine. This is minor compared to having my arm cut off," Racheli said through gritted teeth.

As the man talked to Nemesis, Kayla was still confused by what he meant about needing materials. This had been the first interaction the archer had with the woman so she doesn’t know about any abilities. But, in a world where she had seen a lot of crazy things, the news that this was just a minor thing was surprisingly good in her ears. ”Well, if you can survive your arm being cut off and survive that explosion in Chinatown, then I’m sure that these bullet wounds would be a relative inconvenience.” Out of eyeshot, Archie, the plant-based marsupial, poked its head out from her trouser pocket.

“Yeah, give me a second,” Racheli said as she eyed the roof.

Begrudgingly, she slowly removed her glove then placed her palm on its surface. She inhaled a breath. As if given a signal, black blood oozed from her wounds and trailed down her arm. It swarmed with a purpose until it touched the ground. A subtle hissing grew louder while it began to break down materials, leaving behind a traced indentation of her hand. Unnaturally it retreated back inside the woman before the small nanites could die.

Racheli gritted in pain as her insides were already nibbling at the bullets buried in her muscles, bones and other cavities. The skin through the jacket’s holes were seen knitting themselves together. As if nothing had happened.

Kayla watched on as Nemesis began to work on getting healed up from the bullet wounds in her body. As the black blood dissolved the concrete that made up the roof, the archer looked at her hands as the gloves she wore had been covered with the same blood. Luckily for her, the blood hadn’t damaged the gloves too much that she would need to spend the time to make a new one. However, the combination of the damage from the blood and the roadrash on the right glove meant that she would need to get them repaired once all of this was over.

When it ended, Rach blinked then stared at Fletch in surprise.

“How in the world do you know about Chinatown?”

Any additional question was stopped when Rach heard, more than saw, the creature peer out of the woman’s pocket. Instinctively her head tilted to the side in order to get a better view. It took her a moment to fully accept what she was seeing as not being a hallucination.

“Before you answer the first question, where did you get that?” Her finger held up to prevent Fletch from interrupting her then dropped when she finished.

Once done, Fletch looked as the woman she was with gave her a surprised look. It was then that the ball dropped about what happened that night was brought up. However before she could answer that, the archer was silenced by as a lone finger was raised at her. Before she had to ponder on what the second question meant, she felt Archie shift out of her trouser pocket and crawl down to the floor between them. Its eyes looked at Nemesis with curiosity before, surprisingly, crawling closer to settle near her. Even the archer was visibly surprised by the lax nature that the plant marsupial had when around Nemesis.

”Both questions that are easily answered,” Fletch replied, her eyes keeping the light-hearted gaze from a moment ago. ”But to answer the second question first, Archie here was given to me by a mutual acquaintance: a plant-based meta known as Evergreen. I came into contact with him shortly before a mafia war broke out in Chinatown and gave me the creature for future uses as well as a companion.”

Kayla’s eyes shifted back to the serious tone it had before. Now it’s time to reveal why you gave that nod to her, she thought, pondering on how to word her next answer carefully. ”Going back to the first question you asked, I’m not going to sugar coat it. How I know about the explosion in Chinatown that you and War-Pulse got caught up in? It’s because I was there when it happened.”

Rach warily looked at the creature. Usually animals tolerated her presence or fled from her, unable to stand her. Like they sensed something wrong with her on a subconscious level and heeded their natural instincts. It concerned her briefly that this strange, mossy creature simply plopped down beside her. Slowly her hand edged out then gave its leafy outside a soft stroke along its head then spine.

After a few gentle pettings, Rach’s attention turned back to Fletch.

“It would figure he would break nature’s rule that animals don’t like me,” Her voice held some amusement hinted in the undertone.

Gradually she lifted onto her feet, her right hand raised out and gestured for help from Fletch. After she rose, her arm leaned down to allow the creature -if he wanted to- onto her arm. She would then return him to his proper owner before continuing the conversation.

“Better hope Midas never finds out or you’ll likely vanish or be silenced in some way. The rich asshat has an ego the size of the moon with the arrogance to match,” instinctively her hand reached to behind her ear. Her fingers gingerly touched the device under the skin that leashed her to the jerk’s whims. At least kept her from walking away from him.

When Archie felt a hand stroke its head and back, he reflexively pressed up against it. While he didn’t make any noise while it was petted, the face gave off an air that he was enjoying the experience. As Nemesis stopped petting him so that she could get back up, Fletch obliged her by reaching out for the hand and braced herself to allow the woman to get back up. Then, the archer watched as the marsupial climbed up the arm and returned to her, climbing along her arm until he reached her left shoulder, the green eyes looking at Nemesis with further curiosity.

”Yeah, I gather he would.” Kayla responded, a similar amusement in her tone.

”I think that as both you and Evergreen knew each other is the reason why Archie would be more at ease around you. He still gives me some shit, though still friendly towards me after meeting his creator for the first time.”

As she listened to her talk about Midas, Kayla was already thinking about her confrontation with War-Pulse. Surely Midas can’t be more of an asshole that that merc? she thought to herself. Then, she watched as the woman reached behind her ear. While it was possibly a normal reaction, the archer’s head tilted slightly in the direction the hand went. ”I bet he would want me silenced or to disappear completely,” she replied, her head returning to its normal, relaxed position. ”I think after sending two drones to incapacitate you and that asshat of a mercenary, resulting in destroying half of the block in Chinatown, I would want to keep that quiet and disguise it as something else.”

While she returned her gaze back to normal for Nemesis, the archer just had a nagging feeling that something was up. So, much like opening the door to her witnessing the events in Chinatown, she asked the next few question. ”One thing’s still puzzling me: You are a metahuman that has the ability to take down those mechs with seemingly little difficulty, barring whatever caused you the bullet wounds. Why couldn’t you simply walk away from Midas? Has he got something on you that means you can’t?”

“It isn’t that simple,” Rach scoffed, then lifted her hairline. She twisted for Fletch to see the misshapen and obvious unnatural lump near the back of her skull. Her mask retracted far enough to show it.

“The jerk took precautions and I really don’t want to see how far my ‘healing’ factor goes. It’s bad enough when my nanites touch it… they get shocked and disabled. So they learned to ignore it,” Racheli grumbled.

After Fletch examined it, Rach pulled back.

As Nemesis turned her head to show off what was stopping her from leaving Midas, Fletch began to focus on the lump in her head. Unlike the focus she used whenever she was looking down the scope of her bow, this one had been for her electronic and electrical engineering in focus. As she listened to what the device did to the nanites that were in her blood already, she can conclude that it was definitely electrical and would have some sort of circuit that would discharge a large current to temporarily knock them offline. Naturally, she assumed that this device would have some sort of power supply in there that would generate enough current and had a solenoid that a smaller circuit would activate which would be the sensor of something damaging it. Meaning, it was something that could be done to short the device so it could be extracted. Only one problem.

I don’t have the equipment with me to attempt something like that, she thought, her eyes narrowing at one prospect.

She ran a few possible ideas in mind that would try to shut down the device completely which might work for her disruptor arrow tip idea. As she retracted her focus, allowing for Nemesis to cover it back up, the archer raised her right hand to her chin, her left arm crossing over into the nook of her right arm. Appearing in thought, she listened as the other heroes started to leave to head off to the next place to fight the Hounds. Now, the next part is the more difficult one: saying she has a possible solution to the problem but not reveal who she was outside of the archer get-up. “I can’t think of anything to help you with that,” she began, starting to bend the truth in her words. ”However, I know someone who might be able to disable that device long enough for it to be removed or for your nanites to destroy it from the inside. Perhaps after we finish off these Hounds bastards we can arrange for you to contact her to sort out the details?”

Racheli’s eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment. It appeared she might not fully accept the offer, before she bit her cheek side and submitted.

“Why not? I got nothing to lose,” She had to admit, then added.

“So… do you know what the fuck we’re supposed to do now?” Racheli found it hard to state she hadn’t been much help so far and had slight doubts that would change.

While Kayla didn’t show it, she sighed when Nemesis agreed with the prospect of ‘meeting’ her to try and disable the device in her neck. The hard part is now over, she thought to herself, listening as the woman asked what was to happen next. The archer finally turned around from the spot she had been at to look over the site where the Hounds fought against the heroes of Lost Haven and noticed that everyone bar a few stragglers have gone off.

”Well, judging by most of the heroes no longer being there, I think everyone’s gone off to fight the Hounds at another location.” Her gaze through the yellow lenses returned to Nemesis. ”I’m assuming you’re wanting to catch up to them and finish off these bastards?”

“You’ve not been much use yet…” the Virus pointed out, his tone condescending.

It was a subtle jab at the fact she didn’t understand or know how to fully use her abilities without going overboard. His expression made a smug smile when she glared at him again. Racheli really hated the projection, from his superior attitude to his poking at her flaws, forcing her to acknowledge her shortcomings.

“Shut up, stupid bastard,” Racheli growled.

She turned to Fletch, “Yes. It’s the best way to get underneath Midas’ skin, and I can’t pass that chance up.”

Fletch also turned to the man, her eyes glowering at him. ”At least she’s not a smug prick that no one gives a shit about,” she retorted, her voice hinting a form of jeer in it. While the archer had no idea that the man was just a projection from Nemesis herself, she figured that the man was seemingly harmless in the state he was in.

Kayla’s gaze returned to Racheli as she spoke about joining in the assault of the next Hound location. When the idea of Midas possibly getting annoyed at such a prospect, her lips curled into a mischievous smile. While the cowl hid the smile, her eyes hinted it. ”Well then,” she replied. ”I guess we shouldn’t hang around here for too long. Seeing as how I still have my motorbike around, depending on damage from the attack, we could use that to get to the next location. Will need to see if there’s anyone around to help with the directions, but I think Carver was mentioned so we’ll head there if no one is around.”

With things almost finished here and ready to be on the move, the archer walked up towards her bow, the weapon still at the place it skidded to from the initial landing. Picking up the compound bow, her eyes began scanning the surface for any damage. Sure, there’s a few scuff marks on the side, she noted, seeing the scratches on the non-arrow rest side. The bracket and the stem of the sight was also scratched as well, but it seemed that this was the extent of the damage. The limbs must have taken some of the energy out of the drop. Satisfied with the pull of the string to full draw, she placed the bow back on her hip and turned towards Nemesis. ”Shall we start our nuisance call to Midas?”

Racheli chuckled softly, “I’m following your lead.”

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

❤ Olivia Matthews ❤
&
✠ Emmett Matthews ✠

_{Time: Arc 2, Day 2- Morning
Location: Aeris' Apartment}

---

Emmett curled up near the frost covered window. His butt was parked on the built-in seat and bookshelf unit, his right hand folded under his chin. He traced the delicate, otherworldly designs spreading across the glass surface. Almost floral in nature despite the icy display. After a moment, his head leaned against the glass where the cold surface was melted by his warmth. He lingered there. Emmett let the cold sensation burrow deeper in him, bring strength to the numbing sensation that comfort him. Deep down, he wished he couldn’t feel anything.

There were small, dark-colored bags building underneath his eyes. His mind couldn’t help but mill over the memories of his last conversation with Erin. It had ended so sourly. Just when they were starting to mend their friendship, she pushed him away. It hurt more than he thought was possible.

Mr. Aeon, sensing something amiss, had pulled him aside. Nothing the older man said made Emmett feel alright, but at least his temper dissipated. The boy sighed.

He continued to take in the storm outside. Emmett noticed how quickly it settled in causing his gut to stir, plaguing him with instinctive warnings. The weather was unusual for this time of year in Ominar. The anxiety was enough to cause him to sit upright then walk toward the hallway. His soles barely cared for the chill lapping at his naked feet. His eyes shifted to Olivia’s assigned room drawing him in closer where he paused long enough to check on her. His right hand reached out, the door creaked wider before he edged inside. Her soft snores were the first thing that caught his attention. Emmett relaxed at seeing her curled into a ball and still sleeping warmly under her covers.

Quietly he pulled back into the hallway then continued down the stairs.

ℭharles Λeon

_{Time: Arc 2, Day 1- Late Evening to Arc 2, Day 2 - Early Morning.
Location: Ominar Hospital ER}

---

Charles stomped off the snow clinging to his boots. They piled around his soles then crunched as he stepped across them, his figure moved deeper into the busy emergency room. Like in the cold outside, he was numb to his surroundings. Every bit of it surreal and unable to touch him emotionally. Nurses brushed by him, but he paid them little attention. He wanted to find Killian’s room sooner rather than later. Gradually he paused nearby a wall, out of the hallway’s traveled path, where his eyes sought the nurse manning the registry counter.

He found her. She was trying to calm a man in his early twenties, the young man’s hands were frantically clutched at his side. He raised his body both in stress and to intimate her into submission instinctively. Several piercings lined his nose bridge with his shoulders and arms covered in a tapestry of tattoos, his outfit gothic in theme. It took a few moments, but Charles suddenly realized why the man looked so familiar. He was a student at the college. A rather well behaved and quiet type, the environment outside the college had drawn out his stronger character. It was enhanced by his growing anxiety.

Quickly Charles’ legs ate up the distance to interrupt the scene before it got out of control. He navigated through the mess of wounded and hospital staff. Each movement was made with a strict purpose: to progress and waste little energy doing it.

As the young man began to raise his fist, Charles’ arm whipped out then caught it by the wrist. The student promptly paused in his action. His head turned to observed who was foolish enough to touch him and stiffened in shock. Charles let him rip his arm from the loose grip.

“What are you doing professor? Here, I mean,” he clarified, asking to satisfy his curiosity.

“A friend of mine was taken here after a serious accident at his workplace. I came to get answers and possibly see about his condition,” Charles answered calmly. He decided to neglect mention of what the student nearly did, the youth already aware himself and silently punishing himself for losing his temper.

For the moment, Charles seemed void of any emotional attachment. That was far from the truth. In fact, he was pushing away every fiber of anger, sorrow, and blame that tried to cloud over his mind. Seeing them as a poison that would hurt his ability to help Killian during this time. Continuing to draw on the spreading ice in his veins, the professor turned to his eyes to the nurse.

“Killian Jones, where is he?”

The nurse, still a bit out of sorts with the near physical encounter, blinked. She seemed to struggle to put together thoughts before she finally broke the spell and replied.

“I will need to see your identification, need your name and check to see if you’re placed as his next to kin.”

She didn’t waste any more time as she moved back to the desk. Her figure slides smoothly into her chair and rolled it right up to the computer, her fingers at the ready. Charles gave his identification followed by his name and patiently waited until the woman was done verifying things. As she wrapped up, her arm reached out to hand him back his ID. Charles stuffed it haphazardly into his coat. The second she voiced Killian’s location, he was gone. His figure vanished down the nearest hall toward the ICU.

♤ Darius M Cain ♤

_{Time: Arc 2, Day 2- Next Morning
Location: Manor}

---

Darius’ right eye slit open.

His hazy morning vision began to clarify then sharpen, glancing around the scenery to piece together last night’s events. In the dim darkness, several articles of clothes were haphazardly scattered across the floor and various furnishings. The trail slowly led to the large king size bed where Masha and he laid, naked under the sheets. Her figure was draped across his chest while she softly slumbered, enjoying his fur and the warmth. Lazily his head turned toward the artisan table at his bedside. The vintage clock ticked away the seconds past six am causing his sense of responsibility to gnaw at him.

Darius finally gave in. He gingerly moved his figure upright then carefully detangled himself. He then planted both feet upon the carpet and rose. Along the way, his hand snatched his pants and slipped into them. After exiting the door, he softly clicked it shut behind him. It wouldn’t do if his activities work up Masha from her rest. She had a long day ahead of her, both averaging the damage and repairing it. For now, he would enjoy some breakfast with a side of wine. When she woke up around noon, they would talk.

One of Afua’s small spies scurried across the hallway behind him causing his ears to twitch in annoyance. He had forgotten they now roamed the manor, for the time being, drawing some distaste to rise. Nothing brought his hatred to surface more than being stalked. His teeth gritted in silent fuming as he pulled into the small, ill-used kitchen.

As he opened the cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug, his ears caught the sound of something heavy move. His eyes caught the sudden image of a sawed-off gun barrel aligned at his chest. His figure bolted to the side just when his shadow shot up to protect his vital organs. The muzzle went off faster than expected. Pain engulfed his shoulder and right arm, the flesh burnt by the proximity. Darius felt a yell escape from his snout as he managed to stay on his feet. Adrenaline fought with shock in his system. His ears caught the sound of blood dripping from his shredded bicep and broken upper arm. When it made contact with the ground, the liquid hissed then ate into the floor’s surface.

Too worried about giving into the spreading shock, Darius’ figure snatched some towels on route to the nearest phone. His trembling hand hit the speed dial for Nabriales’ cell. Before he could pick up the receiver, the weakness began to swarm his strength. Darius felt his legs give out from under him. Slowly he flipped about to fact the cabinet while trying to remain conscious and pressed the towels to his bicep.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Lyn, Shimmerstone

---

Lyn was smiling now. A small glow spread across her expression as she hung close to Alaira, both ignorant about the information about the shapeshifter being spotted. She had mentioned some of the things she hoped to do with everyone during the festive and had some ideas how to proceed. Including bring her godfather some treats from the city vendors when meal time came around. She hoped he would at least try some of them.

Her boots navigated across the cracks easily despite her eyes being focused on Alaira. Gradually she felt her mother’s eyes turned and follow her, driving away the joy away with suspicion. They locked eyes causing Lyn’s head to tilt. Without another word, Mar ate up the distance between herself and her daughter.

“Lyn where have you been?” Mar hissed slightly with concern lacing the words.

As her mother clasped her shoulders, Lyn’s confusion grew. She could see the worry in the features but the cause eluded her. Something wasn’t right and she could feel it deeply in her core. Lyn looked past her mother into her father’s eyes, quietly asking him what was up and found hself relieved that Henri was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the emotional drama right now.

“Yeah, Alaira found me. What’s going on? Why do you look so worried? Did something happen?” Lyn asked as she pulled off her mother’s hands, grasping them in her own.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Kiseo, Dyril, Lana and Arianna

Location: Party in Celebration of War’s Victory
Time: Month after the Riots
Collab with: @Sundered Echo

---

The Sun was sinking below the Horizon, the last vestiges of gold disappearing from the sky. Lana was considering returning home, or perhaps taking a circumspect trip to where Eli was staying… But as the crowd thinned ever more, she noticed Dyril was alone, and an idea came to her. Also present at the party was Arianna Zerrikan, a prominent Tide Master from the Summer Isles.

Arianna was looking decidedly out of place, currently being talked at by some fawning noble. Lana suddenly felt terrible for not helping her friend fend off admirers who only knew of the famous Zerrikan name. Seeing an opportunity to perhaps make up for her negligence, she gracefully entered into the one-sided conversation, expertly dismissing the noble with a glance before leading Arianna towards the elf.

Above them, a number of illusory lights appeared suddenly, illuminating the gardens to ensure that those still present would not have to cease their reveling due to darkness.

“Dyril, Kiseo.” Lana said as she approached the pair. “It is good to see you again. I trust you are enjoying the festivities?” At her side, Arianna could not help but stare a little, particularly at Kiseo.

Dyril had been about to suggest to leave when a voice spoke. It caught her attention causing the half-elf to turn and look. Naturally Kiseo peered over her mistress’ shoulder where she noted the Magister approach them with another individual.

As the woman started, the Mao’s tail flickered from behind her. Her mixed lips curled in what she hoped was a friendly gesture as she allowed Dyril to speak for both of them.

“There’s slightly better company than those in the Elven courts,” Dyril had considered tacking on a mention of ‘especially the priests’ but thought better of it. Lana might’ve found the comment insulting depending on her views.

She noticed Arianna stare at her servant as she smiled, “Magister, I see you brought a friend. Would you kindly introduce her please?”

“This is Arianna Zerrikan, Tide Master of the Summer Isles. Arianna, this is Híril
Dyril Elian, a trader from Beilokias, and Kiseo her… servant.” Lana’s command of the foreign titles and names was, she thought, adequate.

“A pleasure.” Arianna said, bowing slightly as she would for Formaroth minor nobility, just to be safe.

“Tide Master is a title denoting esteemed mage-captains in Formaroth.” Lana added, by way of explanation. She knew the elf wasn’t familiar with some of the more esoteric terms in this land, and did not want to waste time with polite questions.
“I recall having your name being recommended to me as an option for sea trade services,” Dyril stated, actually happy she could do business in a far less ridge settings. It also saved her time tracking the woman down as she returned a small nod in acknowledging the bow.

“I hope you don’t find me rude for asking a few questions? I’m interested to see if you would both be willing and suitable for ferrying magical items across the sea from Beilokias.”

“Not rude at all.” Arianna said. “Indeed, i’d much rather speak of seabound business than answer questions about my father. He seems to be all everyone else in Nyhem is interested in…” She sounded terribly frustrated as she spoke of that particular subject. It was clear in her tone that Nyhem was not the only place she had to deal with that problem.

“I’ve not been in Formorath for long, right now your name was recommended to me and I intend to see if I can do business with you,” Dyril reaffirmed as she felt her liking toward the woman grow. They both were left underneath someone else’s shadow and that drew a connection to encourage they could meet a good bargain for rendered services.

Dyril cleared her voice then continued, “What type of ship does your business use? Most seabound businesses usually have a ship most suitable either for their captain or their purposes.”

Arianna listened with a growing smile. Lana’s quick explanation of her title had left out a fairly critical aspect of her job, and it had resulted in an amusing misconception on Dyril’s part.

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” She said mirthfully, then cast a mock scathing gaze at Lana. “I’m a warship captain. I command a catamaran that wouldn’t last ten seconds on the open ocean.” She laughed then a genuine, but not mocking sound.

“I do, however, know some of the best traders the Isles have to offer. For a free Zephyr fleet escort they will go anywhere in the world. What are you planning to trade?”

“That’s why I asked questions. I felt there was more to it than what was given,” Dyril attempted to recover from her mistake as she nodded.

“I was aiming on shipping some mandrake seeds and magical items. On my way here, we had a run in with a particularly nasty pirate that burned our escort ship.”

“I see. Perhaps it will soon be time to send the fleet to Akki for a purge…” Arianna mused. “I will inform my father of that, and see what he thinks. But no such fate will come to any ship under a Summer Isles flag. Unless the pirates wish to risk our wrath…”

Arianna thought for a moment, considering the possibilities. She could no doubt charge the elf quite a bit, but she was not really concerned with money, and she liked the idea of a friend who might get to know her, instead of judging her on her last name.

“I have an offer. I will arrange a trade route and escort with one of the Holk captains I know. He will no doubt have a fee, but with guaranteed escort it will be low. In exchange, you can tell me of your land and stick around here for a while.” Such an altruistic offer would no doubt see generations of traders in her ancestry rolling in their graves, but she didn’t care.

Dyril blinked for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say or think primarily because most individuals, when their business was complete, left or wanted nothing farther to do with her. In fact, few ever stood in her presence beyond public if they could help it. This unusual request caused Dyril to mentally stumble over her words.

---

Meanwhile, Kiseo had casually shifted over beside Lana where the two were able to quietly converse without interrupting.

“Thank you,” Kiseo said gratefully, through she wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.

“What for?” Lana said, genuinely bewildered for a moment. Then it dawned on her. “Oh.” She said quietly. “There are no slaves in Formaroth.”

“Oh, not that. Dyril has...had trouble making friends here. It seems she likes this one,” Kiseo corrected Lana as her feline lips widened in a smile, her tail swaying in place. She noticed it coming dangerously close to the Magister’s personal space before her arm reached out to collect it, pulling it around her front to avoid another incident.

“Good. I am happy to help.” Lana said. “How have you been faring these last few days? Enjoying your time in Formaroth I hope?” Lana continued, making small talk while Arianna talked business.

“It better than a month ago during the riots. I ended up meeting Dyril’s old childhood acquaintance, Claus. It was interesting to watch her control his drinking,” Kiseo chuckled, recalling how her mistress lite up and interacted with the jolly individual.

“She knew Claus before? Interesting. It seems you two are quickly making friends with the great and powerful of the land.” Lana observed.

“Claus is fond of her, like a little sister I think. I heard he tried to teach her to use a crossbow before her grandfather discovered it and isolated Dyril in her room for the following years,” Kiseo’s eyes lowered to hide her slight discomfort of being locked away like that.

“I met a friend of yours one day in the market, Drevala. She was nice enough to help me with some butcher trying to… how do you say it? Cheep me?”

At the mention of Drevala, Lana looked away. No matter how much she tried to get the memory of their last meeting out of her head, it was so vivid and shocking that it would not go away. Her cheeks burned and she was filled with great sorrow. Only with a monumental effort of will was she able to hide it all under illusion and turn back, doing her best to act like nothing had happened at all.

She was unaware of a now heightened pulsing glow from the gem upon her breast.

“Yes, she mentioned something to that effect. And it is ‘cheat’ you.” Lana focused on correcting Kiseo’s use of common to change the subject. “You have definitely improved your command of the language however. That is good.”

“There is still a lot to work on. Common is not easy. Not like Elven or Mao,” Kiseo pointed out, noticing the discomfort in Lana’s posture. For a moment, her words fell silent to the pulsing glow coming from the Magister’s chest.

“That is an interesting piece you are wearing. Does it always pulse like that?”

Lana looked blankly at Kiseo for a moment, wondering what she was referring to. All her jewelry was an illusion, and she hadn’t set any of it up to pulse.

Kiseo pointed to indicate what she was seeing.

Slowly, it seemed to dawn on Lana what Kiseo was referring to. The realisation crept over face slow enough that none could miss it, and then she simply said “Oh.” She gently plucked the gem from where it hung in two finger and raised it up to where she could see it. “No, it doesn’t usually do that.”

“Where did you get it from?” Kiseo, not liking the fact it was activated without a command from its owner. Most magical items that acted of their own violation lead to dangerous consequences.

Lana narrowed her eyes then, looking suspiciously at Kiseo and dropping the gem to let it hang in its usual place. “Why?” She asked. She was not about to tell the servant of an elf about a magical breakthrough even the elves could never manage.

“From what Dyril has told me, if a magical item acts of its own free will… it’s dangerous or defective,” Kiseo replied, her ears pinned back defensively. She didn’t like the tone the Magister had suddenly taken with her over a simple question.

“I see. Well, pay it no mind. I know what I am doing.” Lana said haughtily.

“Ignoring it might damage it worse. Even the Elven Priests refer to Dyril’s family when it comes to magical items and their status is far above them. Magic in an item isn’t the same as magic in a living creature,” Kiseo tried once more, but aimed to pull back without another word.

“Are you questioning my magical expertise?” Lana snapped. She was getting angry now - Kiseo’s words were starting to feel a little too patronising, something she only expected from pureblood elves. “Formaroth is not as far behind Beilokias in the art of magic as the elves seem to believe. You would do well to stop your prying into this subject.”

“It’s not your magical knowledge I question, but your caution,” Kiseo found herself saying, then sighed.

Letting the moment pass and she added, in a softer tone,“I don’t want to see you hurt or worse, dead. So please, get another opinion that knows about this. If what you said is true, there’s individuals that know about magical items and can confirm what I said is true.”

Lana looked carefully at Kiseo for a long moment, then relented, calming a little. “I will consult my peers.”

“Thank you,” Kiseo’s smile returned.

Her ear flickered to return upon Dyril, catching Arianna’s generous offer and Dyril uncharacteristically caught off guard. She flashed an apologetic expression before she excused herself.

“Your offer is unusual and…,” Kiseo, stepping in, struggled with the next word.

Dyril promptly snapped out of her stun to correct the Mao, “But and the last word is generous. We need to work more on your common, Kiseo. Remind me later.”

She quickly reined in her composure then continued, “As my servant said, your offer is unusual purely because most individuals want to only engage in business. However, I would be happy to talk with you and stick around in exchange for you offer.”

“Good. It’s a deal then.” Arianna said. “Come see me at the docks tomorrow, I’ll be on my ship. You can't miss it - it is the only Catamaran there.”

Kiseo casually slipped back into the background when Dyril started to take the conversation’s reins again.

Arianna settled into describing her ship for a time, speaking to Dyril into the night about ships. Meanwhile, Lana slinked away and found something more to drink. With the night growing older, and being reminded of Drevala, she felt the need to get a little more drunk than she had planned...

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

<Snipped quote by Dedonus>

Thats not really a difference to those who are dead.

@VATROU

I agree with that... XD

~Chrono Asylum: Devil's Plague

Xx---------------------------xX
Experimental Team
Xx---------------------------xX

Time: Some time after the fight between Cade and Samad vs Angel.
Location: Void

Before the next match started Cade and Samad had already been placed in the fishtanks with numerous support staff surrounding the duo. A specialized division had already been called to perform alchemic healing on the Iranian and the Medic. Their bodies as well as their alchemic drives seemed to be in a critical state meanwhile a custom built ‘fishtank’ had been brought in for the Lost Number, the primary difference being that it had no anesthetics and as such you would not be forced to lose consciousness.

“Such a handful these young alchemists, the whole lot of em…” Angel mused as the green liquid filled the tank and covered him entirely, his chest heaving steadily while breathing through the sinister looking oxygen device planted on his face. Might as well give those two a chance to sort somethings out, could be amusing… The Lost Number contemplated, a smirk spreading across his face over the devious ideas formulating.

I walk the void and you walk with me, the Silver Reaper mumbled, his gaze settled on the air bubbles surfacing the tank, watching them slowing and then stillness, stillness all around and then a shrill disturbance bombarded Angel before the world shattered around him

Angel, Re…. we……. help…..link…...hurt….reconnect…

“What?” Angel thought suddenly, just realizing that both his palms were pressed to his ears. “That was….unusual….a side effect of the alchemic poisoning perhaps?” The Reaper thought to himself, his intrigue eventually fading away as soon as Cade and Samad’s consciousness materialized in this word, their bodies representing how they view themselves as well as the state of their mind.

Angel was dressed as he was before when in the void, dressed in a fine black suit with a red waistcoat, his hair far neater and longer, almost below his shoulders. He wore no glasses but both his eye sockets were shrouded in swirling pools of darkness. “And how are you lads?” With that questions the blank white world around them suddenly shifted and warped until the three were standing in a massive, victorian inspired gothic library. Gargoyles rested on massive pillars with isles of endless bookshelves next to them and the only source of light, a pleasant glow from countless candles spread around.

Cade was the first to appear.

The blonde asylum’s thin legs straightened then found a wobbly balance. Quickly his arms and electrical wings spread out to assist, easing him away from performing a face plant into the floor. His appearance seemed unchanged, but the aura felt stronger. A sense of awareness and budding confidence surged through his veins to spread into it.

Before Cade could fully absorbed what was happening, his ears caught Angel’s comment. His eyes, sparking slightly with electric blue, blinked in confusion.

“Please tell me you’re not here to finish the job you started…”

Angel did not look amused, if this was a joke, instead he observed Cade with a rather weary and blank expression. “There would be far easier ways to kill someone Medic, you should know that. And I take offense that you assumed I would attempt such a thing when I was obviously giving you two some enlightenment in regarding to the slump you both are in.” As the Lost Number spoke he summoned a throne like chair which materialized out of thin air. This endeavour had taken much out of him, which was quite peculiar and even more so was the strain his mind was facing, he found it hard to focus as if his sight was constantly switching to his peripheral.

“I had assumed our little sparring would have had an impact on both your psyche and I see yours has improved considerably, though your partner…..” Angel tapped his temple as his hollow gaze found the Iranian.

Cade had been about to point out there was far better ways to improve an individual’s psyche than trying to kill them both. His words caught in his throat as his attention turned with Angel’s gaze. He finally found his partner’s figure sitting in the corner. Samad’s face had a skull-like appearance in the candlelight, his eyes glazed over and his attention ignoring the conversation between the pair.

The medic’s heart sank at seeing the new appearance his partner had taken. It looked like all will to fight and life had evaporated from his spirit, killing him slowly.

No coaxing was needed when he moved from Angel toward Samad. Gently his fingers pressed to the Iranian’s neck, searching for the pulse for several moments. It was faintly beating and appeared to rest into an irregular beat. Samad didn’t acknowledge his exist at the gesture.

Immediately Cade turned on heel to ask Angel where his medical bag was before his foot smacked something heavy. His head turned downward, blinking in surprise. His bag was sitting near his foot. Not bothering to question this world’s logic, he bent down and snatched it up. Gradually his hand rummaged through it for something to check Samad’s blood pressure. A cuff attached to a hand pump emerged then shortly was about to be applied. As if noticing him for the first time, Samad’s head snapped into his direction then growled.

“Leave me alone…”

Cade just frowned, “Are you really going to do this all over again?”

“How utterly dull,” Angel bemoaned, his tone regaining its tauntingly imperious touch. His fingers continued to tap the side of his temple in a rhythmic pattern.

Tap, tap, stop. Tap, tap, stop. Tap, tap, stop.

His hollow, blackened gaze switching from Cade to Samad and often simply staring past them and then returning back to them with a slight shake of the head. Something is a miss….what is it….it’s in the corner of my eye….I just can’t catch it… Angel mused silently while observing the Medic and the Iranian with the silent tune of his tapping.

“As I said before, there are easier ways to die,” Angel finally interrupted the two Asylums, his blackened eyes resting atop the fool of the two. “A time comes when a choice is needed, live. And to live it to suffer. Or die. And to die is to fail. You are in a merciless bog, decide, clutch to frail branches and flail in hopes to survive or descend and suffocate for eternity.”

Cade shot a glare at Angel. He honestly didn’t expect it to affect the Lost Number in the least, but doing so made him feel better at least.

Samad didn’t seem to care what Angel thought. Not even the tapping seemed to grate on the Iranian’s nerves while Samad continued to stare off into space. His hand folded under his chin and eyes unable to make contact with either of them.

“I like to think life is a bit more complicated than merely clutching to frail branches and flailing about,” Cade commented.

He had hoped to draw Samad to him and tap into the broken link between them, seeking answers to his questions. Naturally he hit a mental wall. His wings flickered in intensity to reflect his annoyance.

“I don’t know what happened to your old partner, but you can’t just give up. This isn’t just your choice anymore. It’s ours. The sooner you realize that, the better it is… I’m not ready to just give up yet,” Cade stepped back as electrical energy surged along his back, shoulders and arms, “Now, get up and let us get out of here.”

“Not to interrupt such a fine and valiant moment but there maybe a slight hindrance,” the Lost Number spoke casually as he finally ceased tapping his temple. Things finally made a bit of sense. The mind numbing headache, his lack of focus, the ever so subtle distortions and those sounds, the pull.

“What do you mean? You brought us into this… now you can’t simply dissipate it?”

“Not per say, I can most certainly leave. The architect always has a single key….in most cases the key isn’t required, the mind is calm enough to phase through the void. Though it seems everything is fractured, the void is quite literally splintered and it seems you all are tethered.” Angel drew a sigh, his fingers clutching the bridge of his nose as if explaining the intricacies to the void was quite the chore. “Following?”

Cade turned from Samad to Angel, his lips tightened into a deeper frown and his expression souring quickly. Samad’s issues were enough, but now he had to deal with Angel’s inability to release them. His electrical energy instantly fizzed out as his right hand pinched his nose bridge in frustration. The left hand supported his right elbow while he forced himself to calm down.

“I’ve never said this to anyone until now. You and your partner attracts trouble like magnets. Whatever can go wrong, will in your presence,” Cade’s eyes opened after briefly closing.

His head glanced back at Samad still indifferent to the rising trouble. He turned back to Angel with a sharp reply, “Being the designer of this place, you can go any time. Your ‘guests’- Samad and I- have no such luxury right now.”

He paused to breath then continued, “Someone or thing has broken your design, which has us stuck here. Is that the bare bones of it?”

“In a highly crude and simpleton manner, I suppose. It’s not just you and Samad, but we need not dwell on that.” Angel casually brushed any further questions on the matter and moved on. “My designs are flawless boy, all your survival is a testament to that. And it is true my ‘guests’ cannot eject from the Void, I nudge them out. As I mentioned you are all tethered and that may have arisen from the fracture in the void but have no doubts, each of you is unwilling to leave.”

“If I wasn’t willing to leave, I wouldn’t be asking Samad to get up and leave with me….,” Cade’s arms crossed over his middle.

“It is not up to your conscious mind boy. It is normal for the subconscious to be latched to fears and regrets. All it took was a minute distortion and it tethered you all.” Angel shook his head almost as if disappointed, his gaze once more losing focus and then returning.

“Yes, just like a ‘pain’ can be physically manifested when a patient thinks they are hurt. However, wouldn’t that reflect on our psyche manifestations in the Void?” Cade pointed out, noting his appeared better rather than worse.

Angel simply pointed towards the Medic, his hollow gaze now fixed on the roof. “That is your conscious manifestation. It is true that any influential impact outside the void will show changes, it is how you view yourself. You who have always struggled with your own self worth, upon witnessing it, you changed. The Iranian saw his failure, his ineptitude, he saw the reality that he is a corpse decaying. All of that is almost gentle compared to your ‘Red Doors’.” As the Reaper spoke his tone had taken an almost somber tone, the subject matter was not one which even he would jest over. “It is your shame, it is your regrets, it is your fear, a tether to the Void and a stain to the soul….do you understand boy?”

“Calling me boy isn’t helping, but yes… I think I understand on a crude level,” Cade replied.

“A thousand years and you cannot comprehend the sheer magnitude of it, that is why you... are...a boy. But it is refreshing to see an infant grow. You have yet to grasp your potential, to know what the experiment is, to know your contribution, the sacrifice. We are indeed the harbingers of misfortune, the little one and I, and yet the debt that is owed is always forgotten. How trivial it would be to let it all collapse.” At this point Angel didn’t seem to be addressing the duo, it almost seemed as if he were talking to his own reflection. “How tiring it is, how exhausting. It would be a simple matter to leave now, to not face what will come...all it takes is a word and the rest is ash. Do it….”

Before Angel could continue his focus realigned on the duo in front of him. The Lost Number’s appearance had changed, a slight wither in everything. The fabric, the hair, the posture. “This will be good for the two of you. You both need to face the things holding you back and I believe it is something that will certainly assist the Iranian in forging his way forward, yes?”

Cade’s gut feeling stirred into the bottom of his stomach. It churned and thickened, becoming a heavy weight that settled there. If he could see his insides, he was sure they were twisted in many knots.

“By your philosophy, it might… if we could survive it.” Cade simply confirmed, but not officially answering with a yes or no.

He was cautious over Angel’s abrupt change in appearance. Unsure what it was reflected as the consciousness appeared to have changed drastically in an unpleasant way. He couldn’t control his right angelic wing extending slightly and curved around his side, shielding him almost from what was about to come.

“I am sure you both will. You are young, there are far...far greater regrets and fears than what you may ever know. Seek solace that there are souls out there more damned then you will ever be.” With that Angel finally lifted himself of his throne which suddenly turned to dust, his body toiling to stand against a wall. “How easy it would have been….” with a slight chuckle the Lost Number vanished, his body phasing through the wall causing a ripple to travel across the world the Lost Number had created.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

Plans Come Crashing Down Part 4: The finale

Location: One Night in Hell→ Exiting
Time: Evening- Opening

---

Darius

@May

Darius’ eyes scanned each individual that even resembled Masha. He had stopped about three before his vision caught her waving her hands about and calling him by her private pet name. Relief washed over his human features as he cut quickly toward her. He didn’t even care about his appearance as he gently took her arm then examined her from top to bottom. His expression hardened slightly whenever he spotted superficial wounds, but aside from that she was fine. This was enough to cause him to relax a bit.

“What happened?” Darius quickly asked, though he knew the answer.

Nikki

@Raijinslayer

Nikki was bent down on one knee. Her hand stretched out over an injured arm as she poured her Vis through it, gradually knitting his bones and flesh back together. Suddenly the Vis’ power sputtered then ceased. The throbbing in her body returned while confusion flooded her expression. Slowly a foreign sense of fear and panic washed over Nikki. It took a lot not to pull a knee-jerk reaction when the emotions emerged from nowhere as her figure pulled upright, her legs stretched out underneath her. She paused long enough to watch the confrontation between a strange woman and Damian. The Licenti was a complete wreck causing her to pull closer.

“Damian, calm down. It’s going to be alright… you’re not helping Killian acting this way,” Nikki attempted to soothe his emotional state. The whole time she fought back the fear rising within her chest thanks to his new form. One she’s never seen before. Her hand reached out to touch the immaterialized figure in the only way she knew how to calm someone down.

“Breath, in and out. The ambulance is on their way. Have you eaten… anything today?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer since she had friends that dated Licentia before, her eyes glanced at the state of Killian. He was in pretty bad shape.

~Few hours later~

The snowstorm had become worse. Snowflakes poured down in relentless sheets, visibility crippled and roads dangerously slick when first responders arrived at One Night in Hell. Red and blue lights from the sirens pulsed across the darkened, snow-covered streets as EMTs rounded up the injured. Though the scene’s confusion had portrayed the bomb’s collateral damage to be much worse, only about a fourth of those caught endured any serious injuries. Many helped by Katarina’s brief efforts.

Killian was gently loaded up into the back of an ambulance to be taken to the ER. His body bobbed lifelessly in the gurney as his vital signs were carefully monitored, his brain unresponsive to the attempts to revive him. His physical wounds were temporarily patched to prevent additional bleeding out during transport. A young officer, Jameson, casually took down both Masha’s name and Killian’s contacts before popping into his car.

Nikki watched the ambulance go for a few moments, silently praying that Killian was going to be alright. She had refused to go to the hospital. Mostly because she still had a little boy that needed to be picked up and her scratches were already fully healed.

She turned to Damian, “So, do you have a place to stay?"

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Location: Sherman Square
Time: During the Hound attack

---

“So… do you have any bright ideas over how to deal those?”

The virus’ voice rang in Racheli’s ear. His shape stood just in the corner of her vision, about a meter behind her. She wasn’t surprised if she was the only one that could see him. The bastard liked to fuck with her, making her come off to be crazy to others.

Before the woman, four large Mechs were menacing down on her. Their size rivaled two-story houses while the guns on their left arms raised upright and ready to fill her with bullets. Racheli could hear each tiny gear grind and squeak against each other the moment the gun was raised. Above, the rain and wind began to hammer downward. Each droplet tried to pierce into her coat. The water dripping along the creases before they rolled off onto the ground. Lightning streaked across the darkened skies as a loud crack followed in its wake. The flash illuminated her features in the darkness. Her mask obscured her sea-green irises flooded with the color of onyx.

The guns fired.

Metal bullets flew out of the muzzles, driven by the subtle flash of gunpowder and smoke. Racheli’s figure tried to move out of the way before the air around her warped. Abruptly the metal bullets slowed then stopped in place, held there by some invisible force. Rain and wind whipped about the still figures before the shells fell, useless, onto the ground. Their ringing drowned out by the storm.

Racheli’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t even raised her palm to stop them before realizing who had used her magnetic abilities, her head whipped to space just behind her. The Virus held a wicked, knowing smirk across his lips. His eyes fixed with hers to let her suspicions fester a moment more.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She snapped.

His smirk seemed to widen at being noticed then replied, “Keeping you alive. You’re lacking training and knowledge over how to fully use your abilities. Most of all, you are lacking what’s the word… Ah, tactical skills.”

He then pointed back at the threat looming over her, “Try to keep your focus in the fight, not on me. I’ve warned you once already…this time it’s not training.”

Racheli’s eyes widened in realization before a metallic fist rushed into her peripheral vision. It collided instantly just when she turned her head, the electrical energy erupting in her skull. She felt her feet leave the pavement as she was sent flying into the nearest building. Instinctively Rach’s arms wrapped about her head when she bashed into the wall. The concrete spiderwebbed from the impact point before she crumbled into the ground, cursing loudly. Weakly she pushed onto her hands and knees, trying to clear black blood from her vision. The mechs began to step forward with each rumbling step betraying their location.

Unfazed by Rach’s failure to defend herself, the Virus casually walked to her fallen form. His arms held at his back’s nook while he navigated the shortest route to her. When he finally reached her, his figure leaned over.

“Will you…please listen to reason? Let me in or we’ll both die,” He calmly requested, hoping a less forceful demand might yield better results.

“Fine,” Rach snapped, getting tired of being a punching bag for the walking tin can, “On one condition: No one is killed.”

He began to protest, “They are just hu-”

“Take it, or leave it!” Rach interrupted, finally wobbling to her feet.

The Virus sighed then nodded his understanding, “Very well. No one gets killed…”

He lifted his arm to press to Racheli’s shoulder then vanished from sight, a small voice whispering in her ear.

“Now… just relax while I feed that violent nature of yours.”

Then everything went dark.

The Virus flexed his newly gained control as his head leaned to one side, then flipped to the other. Both motions made an audible crack making him smile. Slowly his arm raised once more and extended outward toward the nearest Mecha. Again energy warped about Racheli’s shell causing the magnetic metals to shake then screech upon being bent away from him. The mecha, either ignoring or unaware of the danger, jerked its arm back for another punch. It let it fly directly at the ‘helpless’ woman.

The edge was met by an invisible wall as the Virus smirked, using Rach’s lips. His fingers then crushed into a fist, the palm still facing his target. Metal quickly crumbled inward like a tin can. The effect traveled from the knuckles to the forearm and up the bicep, making a path toward the cockpit.

His other hand raised a finger then wiggled it side to side, “Tsk, tsk. I shouldn’t expect humans to actually used the brain cells that evolution gave them. It’s expecting too much.”

As fluid leaked through the ruined arm, the Virus tugged his arm back behind him. On cue, the mecha’s own arm was ripped from its socket then tossed to the side. Metal across the woman’s neck melted into small trails, traveling down the arms and into the hands. Long, wicked claws formed rapidly. Subtly a single trail from each clawed ‘glove’ had slithered along the side of the body into the soles of the feet. The Virus intended to use these paths to navigate the electrical currents into the ground where they would be harmless to him. As long as he kept his feet on the ground that is.

Not wasting time, the Virus rushed forward. The right hand sliced into the mecha’s lower left leg as his magnetic field repulsed the limb into the one behind it. Electrical energy darted into the body only to be caught by the metal being used like a lightning rod. It scorned the leather enough to leave blackened lines across the sides where the path was located.

Unbothered by the shocking he had received, his sixth sense alerted him to a new round of bullets coming in. Eyes jerked to the mecha he had knocked down with the thrown leg and watched it angle its gun arm upward. He twisted out of the way just when the muzzle had flashed. Meanwhile, his earlier victim was struggling to remain upright while on one single leg. The weight shifted then tilted finally to the right causing it to come toppling down. The virus ducked behind mass for cover, the bullet shredding the back. When the

“That’s not playing fair at all,” he noted then pulled away from his makeshift cover.

The Virus twisted about to face his aggressors as his arms jerked upward, flipping the fallen mech into the air. It rotated in mid-air before it came crashing down on top of the remaining mechs. Feeling confident, he straightened his jacket collar then walked over to finish the job. A mistake because one of the machines managed to angle their gun from the tangled mess and opened fire.

When the bullets stopped... Racheli's body fell back onto the ground. Water slowly tainted by black coloring spreading from her torso.