Member
Rabidporcupine
DarkRecon
sassy1085
Blake grumbled as he was pinned against the wall, his eyes livid with pure anger as he shook his head, as though Tom’s words were some type of ghost that was haunting him. The intense heat that filled the room only continued to intensify as Blake’s eyes began to sparkle with pure energy. The raw heat became overwhelming, like the room was some sort of oven, as Blake pushed against Tom’s powers and released one more burst of scorching fire from his hands. This blast, unlike the others, was concentrated into a single sphere about the size of an exercise ball, white-hot in the center, and the massive fireball zoomed towards Tom before veering downwards, blasting into the ground in front of Tom. Red-hot embers scattered throughout the room as Blake’s attack caused the floor to give way, the wooden flooring and stone terrazzo crumbling like a cookie and dropping Tom into the floor below.
It appeared as though the floor below Tom was some sort of workshop, with several large devices such as buzzsaws, cabinets, tables, iron presses, and more scattered about. There were several wooden objects on display, but these objects had been very quickly gobbled up in flames, and now burned like torches, a reminder of Blake’s prowess with fire.
Blake soon followed, landing on the ground in front of Tom clumsily, before unrelentingly moving into another string of attacks. Fireballs launched towards Tom one by one in rapid succession as Blake barraged his (former?) best friend with a flurry of attacks, each fireball hotter than the next. Blake quickly began to tire out, though, and after throwing about 10 or so high speed fireballs began to stumble backwards, as though he was intoxicated. He made a swishing movement with his arm, releasing one last attack, a crest of fire that sliced towards Tom’s sides, before moaning sleepily.
"I’m tiiiiired," Blake said in a way that was somehow both very Blake and also very creepy, before he fell onto his back, his eyes closed. He snored loudly as his merciless onslaught of attacks ended with him falling asleep. However, whether or not his attacks on Tom made contact or not was irrelevant, as Blake had certainly done his damage. Fire was everywhere, with both rooms having become absolutely consumed in fire. Hawthorne, while having walls of stone, did have wooden floors and a lot of wooden supports, and as such all these pieces of architecture were ablaze, the smell of smoke filling both rooms (and indeed much of the building), and thick clouds of gray smoke were rising upwards, making it harder to see. With the walls, floor, and furniture in flames, it seemed as though the only things that were not on fire were Blake himself, the Wings of Law goon that was still stuck on the wall, and the airplane with Grace snoring inside.
Grace, however, would not be snoring for much longer, as only a moment after Blake had fallen asleep, Grace had woken up, as if the two were somehow connected by a switch. She looked down at herself, covered in goop, and groaned, before she looked up and saw the burning room and screamed. "Oh fuck," she whispered, clambering out of the pilot seat frantically, dripping with green goop. The gravity of the situation had for once distracted her from her materialism. This was serious. "Tom? Tom!" she cried, somewhere between a shout and a squeak, as she clambered over to the hole in the ground, looking into it. "Tom, are you OK? Please say you’re OK!,"
@KaijuBaragon
Meanwhile, Winterfall was having an absolute field day. He stood, his rapier raised, ready to parry, as Joseph did his preparations. However, as he stood in a guard position, he heard a voice speak to him again. That same Leftover lady. None of these so-called heroes respected a 1v1 fight, then. "Can’t you see I’m busy? My time is infinitely more valuable than yours," Winterfall said demeaningly as Terra zoomed towards him. She moved to the left to catch him off guard, which might have worked on somebody whose reaction time wasn’t so uncanny, Osberg simply stepped back to avoid the clawing, before bringing his rapier back into position and swiftly striking at Terra. He swiped left and right, with two clean strikes to the abdomen. Not fatal if they did connect, but certainly enough to draw blood. He didn’t wait and find out, though, as he quickly brought his left arm around, blasting Alien Angel with a large mass of ice, the size of a bowling ball, with easily enough force to blast her into the wall.
Winterfall re-affixed his attention just in time to Joseph calling out something involving a Shatter, and he didn’t have much time to react before an array of runes landed around him, and then an explosion resonated above him, dropping pieces of floor on the villain, and then sending a burst of flames from the ground up at him. When the smoke and fire cleared, however, Winterfall was entirely unharmed. He had encased himself inside a large, thick cube of ice, which was only slightly cracked from all that damage. The ice cube quickly melted away, revealing a perfectly safe Winterfall, and as he was just about to parry Joseph’s pathetic knife attack when he felt something. A shift. A change in the air. Winterfall trusted his gut instinct, and so he leaped backwards, just in time to avoid a massive red streak of energy from the ceiling that bored into the ground like an orbital laser, sending a concussive boom throughout the now-destroyed atrium. Winterfall scoffed.
"A valiant attempt on my life, but a failure nonetheless," Winterfall said, holding one hand up into the air. ”Allow me to demonstrate how to properly end the life of your opponent."
In the air, a baton made of ice, with the properties of a police nightstick, formed in Winterfall’s hand, before the man quickly lashed out at Joseph, lunging forwards and winding him with a blow to the gut. Winterfall then went to work, striking at Joseph with precise and deliberate blows, a craftsman of violence at work on his finest creation. First, he struck low at the inside of Joseph’s knees, taking him off his feet, before barraging him swiftly yet brutally with a set of blows, striking him rapidly on the torso, face, everywhere, in a rapid beatdown. After sufficiently beating the life out of Joseph, Winterfall held up his baton, which began to morph into a frozen dagger. He held the blade back and was a split second away from plunging it directly into Joseph’s forehead right before...
"You know, my face is not real. It’s synthetic. Just like everything else," Cora said bitterly, but she attempted not to let it all out on poor Rumi. She looked over at him as he offered to fix up her arm before they arrived. "Oh, sure thing! It looks like you know what you’re doing, at any rate,." she said, holding up her damaged forearm, but the sound of the elevator’s ‘ding’ put that idea to bed. "Well, cancel that," she said as the elevator doors opened, a rush of cold instantly filling the elevator. "Oh no,” Cora said knowingly, moving forwards swiftly. ”Stand back. I’ll deal with this. Cover me,” she commanded, charging directly at Winterfall.
Winterfall heard the footsteps and turned, throwing the blade directly at Cora, who in turn promptly smashed the blade of ice into the ground with her palm. The two glared at each other in silent contemplation. Two S-tiers competing in mortal combat was a rare occurrence to say the least, and usually resulted in a lot of damage and somebody kicking the can.
Cora raised her fists into a fighting position, but before the two could lock into combat again, the sounds of a roaring motor filled the room.
Meanwhile, out on the bay, it soon became very apparent that Blade had not afforded them the best boat that he could. It might’ve been because of Patricia’s mishandling, or perhaps Alpha, or just wear and tear in general, but as soon as Alpha so much as laid his hand on the controls, the lever controlling the speed of the boat snapped and dropped down to the maximum setting. The boat’s engine quickly began to roar, and it began to speed at maximum velocity in the direction it was currently heading, which was directly towards Elmore Island.
The boat barreled forwards, throwing its occupants into the wall as it moved uncontrollably towards the building. The men inside the turret towers quickly reacted, giving the order to fire, but their machine guns only just started to rev up before sputtering out. The boat launched forwards, smashing directly through the gates surrounding the island and launched majestically through the front doors (well, really, just the front) of Hawthorne Correctional Facility, like a dolphin leaping out of the water.
The boat luckily had accrued a ridiculous amount of speed while it was mid-acceleration, and it soared over the downed jet that protected Jamie and towards Winterfall in the center of the room. Winterfall quickly made a slashing motion with his hand, briefly slowing down the boat midair and giving him an opportunity to make a break for it, dashing out of the path of Cora’s punch and towards the elevator. Cora would have pursued after him, but there were other issues of far greater concern at the moment.
The great flying boat, meanwhile, landed softly on the ground thanks to Osberg’s slowing superpowers, with the passengers inside hardly feeling a jolt upon landing. Cora looked inside at the occupants. "Perfect timing with the boat. That was an incredible stunt,” she said with a smile, having no clue of the series of events that had taken place moments earlier. "Come on out and help. Jamie and Joseph look like they’re in bad shape. Winterfall really did a number on them. See if there’s any other first-aid on there and give me a hand. I know a little comprehensive first aid, and I’m sure Rumi has some sort of wonder packed inside that robot of his...”
@rabidporcupine@canaryrose@DarkRecon@Scarifar@canaryrose@Zoey Boey@DClassified@DarkRecon
"I’m fucked. I’m royally fucked. Royally, royally fucked!”
Seraph was in his private chambers at the top of Hawthorne, at the top of the tower that adorned the building. He was sitting in his ornate gold desk, his head buried in his hands, sobbing gently. He was set for his lifelong goal, and had everything laid out so perfectly. He could attain his ambitions and destroy his enemies in one fell swoop. But now, he was crushed. His two loyal lieutenants and all the other heroes and villains he had hired were now defeated, and almost all of the support that Zero had provided him had abandoned ship once Seraph started losing. Now, he was alone in the room, alone to suffer a defeat at the hands of his enemies. HERO, somehow, had managed to triumph.
As he sat there, engulfed in his despondency, he heard the sound of his study door opening, and he quickly turned to face the intruder, only to see Nemesis walking in, his cloak swishing behind him, towering over Seraph. Seraph glared at him, his eyes red with tears. ”You guys...you guys all screwed me! You left me to fail!”
"Your order is incorrect. We did not leave you to fail. You failed, and so we have left."
”Same difference! Now, what the hell am I going to do? Fight the entire crew off on my own? I may be the greatest hero that ever lived, but...I’m fucked! They’re gonna rip me apart, throw me in prison...oh, everything has just been so FUCKED!”
Nemesis’ tone of voice didn’t change remotely. "It seems your proverbial 15 minutes has come and gone, yes. However, there is still a way for you to get revenge on your enemies and fell those that have wronged you, and perhaps leave you a chance to escape and start anew."
Seraph cringed upon hearing ‘start anew,’ but he did stop crying. ”I’m listening.”
Nemesis shifted his cloak, revealing underneath what appeared like an ornate bottle of wine. "A parting gift from the Commander," he said, placing the bottle on the table. It was a beautiful bottle, with gold leaf adorning the sides of the glass, and a strange, murky, dark burgundy liquid sloshing around inside, looking as though it had the consistency of molasses.
Seraph squinted. ”You want me to get wasted?”
Nemesis pointed a clawed finger at the bottle. "That is neither wine nor spirit," he explained. "That is some of the Commander’s finest Leftover blood. Harvested from some of the world’s deadliest Leftovers, mixed with honey for sweetness, though the taste is irrelevant compared to the power it bestows. Even the weakest metahuman can take on the strongest with a sip. You will feel power like you have never felt it before with just a gulp, but be warned that the price for such power is your humanity.,"
As Seraph stared at the bottle, Nemesis turned towards the door. "The choice is yours," he said, before walking out and vanishing as quickly as he had arrived.
Seraph continued to stare at the bottle, contemplating his decision for a few moments, before acting, reaching across the table and grabbing a wine glass. He opened the top of the bottle and was prepared to pour it into the glass, before slamming the bottle onto the desk and grabbing the glass. He chucked the glass across the room, shattering it on the wall, before grabbing the bottle, putting it to his lips, and beginning to chug.
