Location💀 Mafioso Mansion - Underground Warehouse.
Time💀 Evening.
Interactions💀
@Rabidporcupine
"Slipping..?" Azhar blinked, his thoughts circling within the confines of the boy’s mind, as if a swirl of distortion. He had not afforded Joseph an answer, but rather lowered his gaze towards the runes resting in his hand, the mutant’s head tilting as he proceeded to gaze upon them.
"Am I.., slipping?" Zee continued, attempting to center himself, but to no avail. It had been as if Joseph spoke someone incapable of understanding the man’s words. Indeed, he would be correct in assuming the fact. Rather, Azhar raised his attention to guards who were charging in his direction, towards all of them in the Heroes’ many, scattered locations. Gunshots rang throughout the warehouse, deafening sounds forcing a frown to Azhar’s features, before it was soon replaced by frenzied glee. The runes between his claws were far from the boy’s mind, worlds away.
The scent of burnt flesh, the screams of those crushed beneath debris, and chaos unfolding, it was the scenario surrounding Azhar as his feet brought the small mutant further into the warehouse. A slow stride, one where every sensation soon found itself replaced by emerald damnation. He noted how Jamie, the other S ranked individual in their company, had made her way deeper into the large, underground building. Was he to turn, the boy would likely have seen Blake making himself scarce in an unhindered stride towards the mansion where his girlfriend and further allies found themselves.
Irrelevance happily replaced concern, however. Thoughts of the man he had arrived alongside, Joseph, faded in response to rising excitement, with Spectral Force now extending its reach from where Azhar was standing. The very air encircling him brimmed with Necrotic Energy, an outstretched hand conjuring forth a chaotic wind which proceeded to pass through an incoming threat.
If one was to maintain vigilance, the sight of an ever-growing horde was amassing in the warehouse. It was impossible for the young mutant to dot the source of their increased numbers, but as his black gaze laid witness to skin, meat, and bone shredded into naught but emerald particles following a gesture, Azhar’s sharp-toothed grin widened.
”M̴͓̆o̴͚̚ṟ̷͆ḙ̴͝.̴̘̍.̵͔̕.̴̮͂” Zee’s distorted voice howled, his clawed hands rising in response to further approaching enemies, or rather, victims. Gunshots continued to roar, bullets whisking past him where the mutant stood.
“I can’t see anything!” Came a scream, a response to the now massive swirl of Necrotic Force surrounding Azhar, as if a twister, a tornado engulfing him and his surroundings. Opening his mouth, the dark mutant exhaled a long breath, ecstatic bliss washing over him as bullets proceeded to fly past the creature now a the mercy of his own growing insanity.
"B̷̰̿ô̷̡w̴̢̔ ̵̹́t̴̯̋ó̷̙ ̸͕̓m̵͕̀e̸̦͝,̴͉̄ ̵̢͆ǐ̴̱n̵̘͝ṣ̸̅e̸̩͌c̴͓̓t̸͇̎s̵͉͂!̸͚̇" Azhar screamed, his phantasmal voice rising in volume, which in turn was echoed by the chaotic storm of Ghostly Power, following suit. The boy was unsure of how many goons had answered the call, but he most certainly had the ability to hear their screams. With another swipe of his hand, Zee willed a second wave into the storage building, swallowing several shapes in its hungry embrace.
"E̷̞̓v̵͉̈́e̴͕̚r̶͉͂ÿ̷̭t̸̒ͅh̸͕́i̶̥̕ṅ̷̘g̶̮͛ ̴̬̿n̵͍̍e̶̺̕e̵͖̓d̴̡͐s̴̨̀ ̸̡̀ṯ̶͠o̷̟̾ ̴̥̈́d̴̺̎ȉ̴̥ë̵̳́.̷̱͠.̸̹̍.̵̤͐” Laughter emanated from the epicenter of chaos, the nexus of Azhar’s herculean storm which was engulfing the main warehouse, and in turn, an equally massive gathering of mobsters sent to end a threat beneath their mansion headquarters.
Throughout the growing emerald hurricane, Zee noticed the retreat of some who had not yet been swallowed by its wrath. A notion he found unacceptable in this current state of insanity. Again, he proceeded to laugh, a large blast of Necrotic Force swallowing the escaping goons with bodies erased beneath its weight. Extending his power’s range to the underground exit, one designed for truck-loaded deliveries, Azhar spared no expenses. As if a dance, the mutant moved his body. Each motion of those clawed hands, in their fluid gestures, conjured yet another wave which found itself whipping out from an ever-growing tornado of death, each one overtaking another gathering of goons now attempting to fall back.
Friend, or foe, it mattered little. The deathly mutant could only consider himself lucky that no allies were present within range of his frenzy. Indeed, Azhar had developed into little more than a blood-crazed beast. His demonic, echoing laughter proceeded to slip past the boy’s lips. It was no longer a mission aimed at rescuing allies, nor was it one designed to apprehend a high-standing mobster. Zee was indulging in a single sensation. Massacre.
Screams bouncing across walls and traveling by air soon faded. A warehouse previously filled with mobsters stood empty, countless collections of clothes riddling the floor haphazardly across its massive interior. It was only when Azhar allowed his berserker storm to lessen that those black orbs witnessed the erasure, without obfuscation.
"Ṁ̷͖ō̶ͅr̶̫̒è̴̜.̸̜̏.̴̫̑,̶̰̈́ ̷̭͝I̶͕̒ ̷̟́w̸̏ͅa̷͔̒n̴͎̆t̶͇̾ ̶͓̈́m̶͇̉ỏ̷͉r̷̰̆e̸͔̎!̴̱̈́" The boy, or Demon shouted, taloned claws digging into his palm with enough strength to draw blood.
One could compare it to a halt in time, the very fabric of reality stopping inside the mutant’s mind. He had pressed down on Joseph’s rune, the gift so utterly disregarded upon reception. A rune that sent a calming wave over the young Reaper’s senses, piecing together what had previously been shattered. A mirror rising to reveal what was glaring back. A mother’s voice beckoning.
Silence. Azhar stared ahead at the devastation he had caused, a scene taking the shape of absolute emptiness. No corpses, no remains, but rather clothes once draping themselves over actual human beings.
"Wh-..," Zee tried, his body trembling with breathing growing ever-heavier.
"No.., no, no..," he pleaded. Taking a single step forward was enough to push him to his knees. Green, spectral particles began to fully fade, leaving Azhar in the shape he had assumed long before chaos took charge.
Again, the boy desperately turned to scrutinize his surroundings, tears trickling down his pale cheeks. Easing those clenched fists, Azhar saw how Joseph’s runes fell to the floor beneath him, one of which had been activated.
’You aren’t yourself.’ The man’s words echoed across the recess of Azhar’s fractured thoughts. Unable to manage another utterance, the mutant screamed. A loud, terrified, and most certainly heartbroken expression where he sat, in the middle of abyssal emptiness.
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