[size=-2]
Kitti fought back the urge to stare in blank terror, fear gripping her chest. Her second thought was to chase Grumpy in order to make sure that he was all right but a second later, she realized that it would be foolish to draw the lion to the battered form when there wasn't even anything that she could do for him right now. Instead, Kitti backed away, looking desperately for something to use as a weapon. The commotion could be faintly heard from the entrance and Kitti wondered briefly but had no time to be curious.
Kitti could find no physical weapon here and instead, she turned her gaze to the lion. She bit her lip and sent out the tendrils of thought, her last resort and happened to click home briefly, sending a wave of pain through every sensor she could find. Infuriated, the lion lashed out and the dodging she had to do broke her focus, releasing the lion from the gripping pain. Dandelion advanced again, looking a little less assured, if a lion could look less assured.
Kitti grasped around for something again and came up with pebbles from the crumbled brick which Kitti proceeded to toss at the lion. Kitti's hands darted around behind her and came up with a chain used on patients. Kitti brandished it in front of her, eyes narrowed. She needed a distraction but for now, the chain would do just as well. The chains however would not last forever.
A thought crossed Kitti's mind and she glanced around frantically for how to achieve her goal of getting close enough to Orochi. If she started attacking him, perhaps Dandelion would become distracted? She wasn't sure but right now it seemed it would be hard to get closer now.
It was cold in here, Spammy realized. Underground, dank, lacking in any source of warmth but his body. He sat down into a cloud of fear and doubt and disgust. Afraid that they would simply leave him here to rot now that they had what they needed, doubtful he'd see sunlight again, disgusted with himself not only for throwing a man's life away, but also for trusting them.
And what had that accomplished? Nothing yet.
It was hard to know the passing of time like this. He didn't usually wear a watch, he couldn't hear much outside of his small cell, and of course there were no clocks in here. Just blackness. One second could have been an hour for all he knew, could be a day or a week. But he could see. He could see Glazer. He could see that eye.
He was rubbing at his left eye when he heard the muffled gunfire, barely audible, except for the silence of his cell. Spammy had never been claustrophobic, but he thought now that it could be very possible for some piece of debris to block the door, and who would know? Who would come check on him?
I'm not sure if it's the mauling or my impacting with the wall that does the most damage.
All I know is that, combined, it's quite a knock to say the least.
Slamming against the wall with a thoroughly unpleasant crunch, I collapse onto the floor in a heap. At this point to the lion, I look and smell essentially like a pile of broken bones and dead skin. No longer an issue for him; he turns to give Kitti his full attention. And he's right, of course. I am essentially now a bag of ruined bones without life.
But that's never stopped me before, has it?
My magic begins to knit broken joints back together, and slowly, I begin to reassemble as the lion circles his new target. I'm down to my reserves, almost out; if I keep using my magicks with such reckless abandon, I soon really will be a dead corpse, without any of the perks of unlife. I'll have enough to piece myself mostly back together...
...and enough for one final trick. The ace up my sleeve, as it where.
Slowly, I rise to my feet in an ungainly fashion, as though some twisted puppet-master was tugging at invisible strings driven into in my dead flesh. The lion has it's back to me, but Kitti can see me well enough, now a gaunt, fleshless skeletal face with all illusions of life stripped from it, only an unnaturally wide smile remaining. Grinning, I raise my hand towards Dandelion and mutter a few choice words in the language of Undeath.
Necromantic energies surge, and I stagger back, finally down to the last of my magic. I'm a walking skeleton now, and will be until I find a new victim.
But that's the least of Dandelion's troubles now.
Unlife itself surges into his eyes and fills them with darkness complete. Blinded to the world, the lion roars and swings furiously at the air in front of him. His other senses remain as potent as ever, but his sight is gone.
A chance for my Angelic friend, to fight on a more even playing field.
I continue to smile at Kitti as I disappear back into the darkness, the skeletal grin the final thing she sees of me before the black encompasses me entirely. I'm of no use in this fight; I must find a new victim to replenish my powers.
And it's been so long since I've tasted cultist.
I'd be a fool to pass up the opportunity.
Dandelion focuses his attention on Kitti, and doesn't notice Grumpy piece himself vaguely back together in the corner. Now more or less a walking skeleton, he uses some of the last of his magic to blind the lion, giving Kitti a chance against the beast, before disappearing off into the Temple...
There is no time for goodbyes, the Purger and his charge are already gone. It's just as well, Tegan doesn't think she can hold it off for much longer.
Luckily the Convent isn't far from their meeting place; if she can just make it home before. . .
Somewhere, in the fog, a voice greets her.
"Welcome home, Ambassador Tegan." She responds in kind, she knows that she did, she just can't hear the words she is saying.
The elevator dings as its doors close with a thundering clap that sends Tegan reeling.
*
*
*
She's the only woman in the lecture hall, but they've all stopped staring, by now. They're listening intently to the oddly dressed man at the lectern.
"I call our world Flatland, not because we call it so, but to make its nature clearer to you, my happy readers, who are privileged to live in Space. Imagine a vast sheet of paper on which straight Lines, Triangles, Squares, Pentagons, Hexagons, and other figures, instead of remaining fixed in their places, move freely about, on or in the surface, but without the power of rising above or sinking below it, very much like shadows . . ."
A movement at the window catches her attention. Outside, Anirune Forest burns.
". . . only hard and with luminous edges — and you will then have a pretty correct notion of my country and countrymen. Alas, a few years ago, I should have said "my universe": but now my mind has been opened to higher views of things."
She turns to face the lectern again-and her breath hitches in her throat-and stares into the vacant eyes of Lady Markov.
She's standing, naked, in her apartment. Her breath comes out in steamy puffs. She does not remember how she got here. Her head is swimming, her flesh pulled taut, aches from the cold.
She reaches for the robe, discarded on the floor amongst the shards of her broken tumbler. Amber liquid mixes with blood on the tiles. Her hand is bleeding, cut deeply when she shattered the glass in her hand.
Tegan catches her reflection in the amber and crimson swirl. Resting in the space between her breasts is a tattoo, an illustration.
Her legs buckle, she sprawls on hands and knees as another wave overcomes her. This time, it threatens to take her down so deep, she'll never resurface.
Blood trickles from her mouth, she can feel it rising up in her like a tide. She'll drown in her own blood.
No, not yet. Not yet. . .
What is she? Soulmate, Shadow, Mentor, Trickster, Ally, Herald, N00b . . .
She's going against the Cycle, against her role in the story. The fugues, the memories, the blood: Her renumeration. The price she pays everytime she defies her role. There's no place for her illusions and her secrets. She'll conform or be written out.
But not just yet. . .
There's still time to get dressed for the next act.
First he let her down... then she was being picked back up...
He had told that woman to take her... and then he had retracted it....
Where were they going?
With more shock and being jolted out of her self-imposed stupor, she tried to think... to understand it...
And then, as they moved, she heard him admit that he missed Rory as well, and that they'd have to be strong...
Who was he kidding? He was talking to a strung-out, half-dead junkie with abandonment issues and a disillusionment that only spoke of her weakness to the current world. Strong.... that was a joke to her. No one was strong anymore. Why try?
Then she was being set down on a roof, and he was going down, possibly going up against a man... or was he even a man...? That suit of armor looked huge....
But...
It was not her place to move into this battle... much like with Rory... she wasn't expected to help or to join in. Though, she felt like there was something odd to this standoff.
He had told her to stay... but that was the furthest thing from her mind.
She was pacing the roof looking down onto the two, wondering what she should do... then she decided she wanted to try something else.... She wanted to test her odd new powers. She had never been able to create art with her own blood... there had never been a reason to. Now, it wss her only medium for her craft.
There was only so much that her body could take, so she would try and limit the use of it... but.... she wondered...
Drawing her left thumb up to her mouth, she bit down, slicing skin with a sharp incisor tooth. The tang of blood seeped into her mouth before she withdrew it, letting little beads of garnet fall upon the ground.
Then after a moment of letting it drip, she sunk down to her haunches and connected the spatters and drew quickly. Dirt, blood, and dust smeared over her fingers as they felt the ground. Because of the fact that there was no paper or grounding substance, there was no way to make these things permanent. But... it felt much more natural than when she had drawn on paper.
It felt... good..
And as the creation pulled itself from the dusty ground, she felt herself gaining a clarity that she had never known before. Perhaps it was just a delusion, but as she watched the creature amble towards her like some strange, childish creature learning to walk for the first time, she felt... a sense of happiness and understanding of herself.
And then, as she felt its wet limbs on her... she knew something was wrong. Blood was the improper medium without paper to keep it semi-solid in the least.
She felt her own blood marking and smearing across her skin as the tiny horrid creation stumbled into her. Her blood went cold with the thought of what was going on. She was delving into very dark works... and yet, as she looked up, she was faced with a mini mirror image of herself, cast in lively ruby red... With her normal arts, she could at least contain these creations within gems, but with this... it was like they moved until the blood dried. And this small creature, a mirror to her self, started to slowly stiffen...
Then, with a curiosity similar to a young boy with a magnifying glass before an ant mound on a sunny day, she blew on the creature, wondering what would happen.
She nearly jumped when she found the creature screaming out, struggling to move its legs, pulling and then finally a film came away as it pulled its legs forward...
She had seen enough, and with one moment, crushed the liquid creature under her hand...
Then found herself yelping and pulling her hand away, the creature was still alive...
....and had bit her.
What.....
Was......
Going....
On......
She hadn't been able to do that before she had eaten that spammer...
She hadn't been able to transform things into... fluffy things.... into that...
What was wrong with her, what had changed?
The sound of fluttering wings caught her attention, a pigeon was a little ways away from her on the roof.... the overcast sky only lending a hand to emphasize the red of its eyes, in hers too.... She had to do more... It stared at her, then walked around, pecking the ground for seed that someone had tossed out... warbling to itself....
With a running start, she managed to pounce on the bird before it could get far. Small little chirps, screeches, and clicks alerted her to the fact that she had it in her grasp. The other way she knew, was that it was pecking her hand as much as it could.
She sunk her claws into the creature, just enough to break the skin, and then dripped some of the blood from her thumb onto the shallow wounds she had created....
And then... it was like a flower bursting into bloom within her head. Like the hammer of a gun being cocked.
She pulled the trigger...
And before her, was a stuffed animal, with exaggerated stitching and red buttons for eyes. It looked at her...
And then flew away.
... Yeah, she had lost it. She had to have... it couldn't have just.... she was imagining things! This wasn't funny anymore and she was starting to get a little worried. This wasn't right... even for her... even for Iwaku... this wasn't right...
There had to be an explanation-
and then the pigeon was back- and transformed back into itself like nothing was wrong...
But then it wavered back to the form she had put it in... and that little pile of blood that was molded into her image.... was still alive...
What had she done to them... what had she done to herself?
She'd have to talk to Jack about it when she could.
The pigeon was off again, in it's normal form and she found herself peeking over the roof's edge, watching Jack and the other man... thing... And she found herself humming....
Huh. She hadn't done that in a while...
She should have eaten that pigeon, she was hungry again....
Too hungry....
Something was pulling at the edge of her conscious... and it felt odd... not unpleasant... but... weird... meanwhile, the rain had finally melted away that creation of herself...
Her mind snapped into a different perspective like a rubber band.
Huh.
Going from "Her" to "I".
I wasn't having any problems though... just hungry...
What the hell was wrong with me today?
....After eating that Spammer, maybe I shouldn't question it.
My stomach was starting to hurt again. Horridly.
Dammit I'm getting more than a little hungry now... But I had to stay here... didn't I?
Something hazy... Jack said... something?... Something.... Something... about...
Fuck it, I don't have time for this, I'm hungry.
Really hungry.
For some reason, I blinked, and suddenly, I was in another alley... A half-eaten body next to me... It a horrid collaboration of flesh and fluff.
I had done it again...
But... what was going on with my head? Why can't I remember how I got here?
How long had I been there eating that body? Was it dead when I found it?
I look up from my horrid work, and notice the sky is much darker than before... Well... it was always dark... but... was it night or day?... How long had I been... like this?
Where was Jack and that other man?
Fuck....
Not even thinking, I walk over to the creature and gaze down on it... some of it's limbs are like stuffed animal's... Half of its face looks like a stuffed animal lion.
... I feel warmth between my legs as the horror grew...
Oh... I was urinating...
....Huh....
I'm frozen between trying to figure out exactly what part of all this had made me loose my hold on my bladder, and the horror of finding that I killed another person... and ate some of them... I only hope they were dead before I found them... I find myself vomiting up pieces of what appear to be the heart and liver....
Wait... where was Jack's jacket?
I am naked again... and I can't see his jacket.... anywhere...
Where the fuck AM I?
.... I'm cold as fuck, it's raining still...
I don't know why I did what I did next... I can only attribute it to the fact that I was scared, lost, and more or less convinced that I needed help right then....
I tilted back my head, opened my mouth, and screamed my head off.
Of course.... no one came...
Hell, this was a shit hole, why did I even think that would work?... and then I realize that I need to get away from that body... I don't know how to dispose of it, and I'm afraid that if I stick around... well... I'd be shooting myself in the foot.
So I run... I run like hell.
I run like a chicken with it's head cut-off, and just as ungainly-looking as one.
The fuck is going on?
Julez is waiting on the roof for Jack, messes around and created a image of herself in blood, then tries to kill it and becomes somewhat horrified when she finds out that this creation is much more durable than her other creations. She uses her power on a living pigeon. Gets freaked out more. Starts getting hungry and switches from the third person to first person, and then consequently endures a time-skip with added amnesia, finding herself in another alley, with another body she had killed and transformed.... urinates and vomits... finds out she's naked again... freaks out and screams, then gets worried about being traced back to the body she altered and makes a run for it. She has no idea where she is.
Musical Score: Nemesis - Cradle of Filth
"Will you not submit without a fight? I do not want you to suffer." the words are spoken from one who would call himself freind, but WMD kept sprinting forwards, with more of the thick plates and bundles of fibro-wiring and hydrolics falling off with every movement, until, torso, shoulders and biceps bare and face twisted in a mask of rage, the Warmaster's fist shot forwards
"I HAVE suffered Jack" he growled as the two attacked and counterattacked in equal measure, Jack's deft swordplay meeting savagely powerful blunt strikes, his still gauntleted fists weapon enough.
the Angel and the space marine were a blur of motion, and anyone or anything that stood between the two was swiftly destroyed
"I was a SLAVE! A PAWN OF PAOROU!" he screamed, throwing a corpse at the purger, who gracefully dodged the vile projectile, thrusting his sword towards the warmaster as he did so
"We all make our choices" the angel said, his blade sliding into the Space marines flesh
"what choices?" WMD retorted, his fist connecting the jack's face, knocking the angel onto his back, but causing the angels sword to rip free messily, his left abdomen was a ragged and bloody mess.
Miru followed Orion with his eyes, unmoving. When he heard him explain that he was a client by extension of Piro, he eased up just a little, more unsure than anything now. He ignored Orion's offer of clothes, and began taking in the scenery of the drab apartment, smelling various objects, though the room itself had a rather bland smell-The kind you expect from an abandoned building in disrepair.
Everything had happened so quickly, and Miru was having issues adjusting. He wasn't used to being outside-The few times he had been, he was on a leash, both figurative and literal. He was grateful for being saved from his predicament, but he had been hurt by others who seemed kind, as well.
"Who are you, anyway?..."
Miru's ears twitched as he picked up the slightest hint of screaming in the distance, but kept his eyes on Orion, his slimmed eyes not fitting the hesitant face at all.
When, at last, they came into the fresh air, Zypher's nameless escort bid her something like a wordless farewell. She's alone, back on the surface streets; she can take off the blindfold, now.
It takes a moment to adjust to the glare of the streetlights, but she knows where she is. The Convent, and her apartment, aren't far from here. She can take a shower, put some food in her aching stomach, try to process everything that's happened in the past 24 hours.
She rounds the corner so quick, she almost doesn't notice, almost stumbles over a woman's body. Guardian training takes over, she catches her balance, steps around.
She's young, swathed in filthy rags, old bandages around her eyes; blind. A beggar for bread. Strange. She managed to get an entire loaf of brioche. It lay forgotten in the street, sopping up her warm blood.
She's clutching something.
"He. . . Hel. . ."
The poor woman is still alive.
". . .m. . .me. . ."
I ran like hell, not able to even consider the idea that I might be ok, and that no one might be chasing me yet. Maybe it didn't even matter yet.
What was wrong with me? What was...
A tune made me stop. A haunting, small lullaby.
It wafted through the air... and right then... I couldn't begin to tell you what made me so entranced by it, but... all I knew is that I had to follow the sound I heard.
Since my mp3 player and headphones had been smashed by a rowdy costumer, I hadn't really had any music to listen to... it had really been the last straw for me... I mean.... If I have to do this... if I have to deal with this shit... at least let my have one act of mercy...
The closer I got to the sound.... the louder a voice in my head got... a madness gripping hold of my brain... I needed whatever was making that sound... I'd do anything to have it... Anything...
The blood from my last victim still seemed to be on my hands... and it reacted to me...
Perhaps it was because I somewhat considered the bloodspray on my body a kind of avaunt-garde Jackson Pollock?
Could be...
I turned a corner and saw an old man in rags on the street with a little music box's gears. The hypnotizing tune lured me in closer. I wanted that fucking sound. Something snapped inside of me... And I knew all of a sudden... that I was about to have a changeover... I knew right at that moment what was going to happen... what I was going to do.... but... I wanted that music... I needed it...
All the blood on my body... and a bit of my own seemed to race to the palms of my hands as my vision started to blur... And then.... There was a blackout....
*************
TK lumbered towards the man, her eyes open, but unseeing. Her body moving, but in a sense, catatonic. There were unspoken needs she had, besides that little musical gear...
She needed more energy to control this new power... she needed more energy to keep alive... she needed to eat.... she needed to....
She needed this... As the man looked up at her, and the musical little gear fell to the ground, TK was already on him. No... he was too old... but he had some use...
The music stopped and so did she... then she started up again, pinning the man down before sinking her teeth into his wrist, then tearing the skin as she dragged her mouth away. She then smeared the blood on her palm, onto the wound she had inflicted, Chemicals and forces only effected him slightly... she was testing something...
He seemed to be in pain for a few moments, it probably felt a little like how it does when you have to get a potassium IV, it burns in your veins something awful, but he was fine after that. Thoroughly scared of her, but fine.
And then... she just... walked away...
She was out of it still, and she bumped into a building as she walked, and for some reason... that set her off.
She clenched her fists and punched the crumbing brick.
Back in that alley.... a 6' stuffed animal of a anthropomorphic dog, spattered with dust and grime fell onto its side. Then it reformed back into the man, who quickly ran off.
She would never know what she started.
***********
As I came to.... I found myself in the middle of a sex act. Money was tossed to the side of me.... for some reason, I was more pissed off than ever.
I was done with this... I don't need the drugs, I have something better.
My fist balls up, but I don't notice the blood and scabs already crusted on them. I slam one of them into the guy's face as hard as I can, then check his pants for a smoke. When I found one, I slid it between my lips and then found the lighter in the other pocket.
"Fucking dammit... The hell is wrong with me... I'm worth more than you gave me... a lot more... and I'm going off market... sick of this." I stated calmly as she looked around, noticing that we were in an alley. Good. I got up, and saw a broken bottle nearby... Lord help me for what I was about to do.
"I'm sorry, but that's not even enough for a tip... And I'm having a very bad day." I continued as I inhale the smoke from the cigarette and then breath it out through my nose before stepping on the glass bottle, wincing as it cracked and broke instantly. But what I wanted was done, The glass stuck into my skin, but soon the blood was pushing it out, but keeping it on the soles of my feet.
I need to figure out what all I can do, anyways.
The man seems so very startled with my actions and moves to leave, but I grab him and push him down, stepping towards him. The glass crackling under my weight, but the blood keeping it from hurting me anymore.
I kicked the man. Sending shimmering particles of glass into the air and into his skin, there was a soft sound as the fragments fell to the ground, and I was quick to grab some of them, blood making a type of glove around my fists and containing the glass.
....
By the time I was done, I had taken almost all of his blood, and all that was left was a grimy, blood spattered gray teddy bear.
And then I forgot I even did that. All I remember was to tap the ash off of my smoke as I walked away in the man's pants and button-down shirt, but it was unbuttoned. Forgot to button it.
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Murky as the deepest ocean depths, blue eyes that were once of a lighter shade glanced over at the Shifter who semed to have trouble trusting one another. Then again in this city it did come as much of a surprise at all. Especially from one of his class. Every single one of them were treated as the dregs of society. Worse even than the Shadows whom Orion thought were the lowest of the low considering their lives seemed dedicated to creating problems. Hindering those who tried to cling to some semblance of goodness. Little of that remained, like a crusty dried blood stain that was slowly rubbed off in time.
Orion walked over to the window of his apartment without answering his guest just yet. Those eyes stared up into the skies above Iwaku City searching for something. Anything that felt familiar or warm compared to the cold dampness of this corrupted city. He gazed up looking for stars in that sky which seemed stuck in nighttime yet barely carried any cosmic light. Shock and surprise entered his eyes as they actually caught sight of a star's light managing to burn through the polluted skies in a lone twinkling before it vanished an instant later.
"Who am I? My name. . ."
Miru's question and that star swept the Guardian's mind back through time to long before his classification. . .
Long long ago and far off from the first incarnation of Iwaku, in the far reaches of space had been a place of blackness darker than the rest. It was just beyond the touch of light from any star in that universe. Due to this a force greater than many decided such a place should no longer exist. Perhaps it was the God Homac, or simply one more powerful than most yet less powerful than Homac planted the seeds of a strange life force. It fed off the battles and the stylings of first Iwaku while still in early infancy. Before the city had even been created from the nothingness. This star baby therefore became much like the reality bending comic book world but never got a chance to connect with the World of Iwaku before the next cycle began. An infantile entity of energy merely floated with the residual effects of Iwaku as the only outside influence that directed this alien creature at all.
It laid the blueprints for a humanoid form of silvery skin and golden hair and white hot blue eyes that had a twinkle in each one brimming with cosmic energy. Soon the silvery skin dulled into a slightly less lustrous white. Upon a mere whim this creature that created light in the darkness could keep it's portion of space illuminated in peaceful existence and bathed it the brightness of serenity. Yet the interstellar infant had no conceptualization of what it could accomplish or even what it should accomplish. Time passed by as a blank stare took in the cosmos around without an iota of judgment beyond what made it smile or sleep or cry.
Tiny fingers stretched out toward the other stars, other galaxies. . . only to find that none of them shared the unique life which it held. None of them were a living star that could do more with cosmic power than simply exist in space. Crying out in lonliness the entity wanted something to keep it company. And so it was in this time when Iwaku existed like a comic book that this tiny creation came into possession of an item that survived every incarnation of the entity since:
A surfboard.
Seas of stars were now opened up to the creature for exploration, yet that force greater than most made sure it never ventured near Iwaku. Even at this early stage where no madness had really set in could risks be taken. After all in these formative years this Star Baby still remained more than impressionable. Outside influences could shape the very destiny of the cosmic child. Golden hair shone brilliantly as it flowed in the solar winds during these innocent exploratory travels. He fought against many creatures that were on watery planets, and even creatures that lived in the depths of space. He took the teeth of the most mighty and made a necklace of them to hang around his neck. It led to the beginnings of becoming a great hunter despite having the outward appearance of a two or three year old humanoid mortal.
And then the City came to be. . .
The entity napped during the admin wars, only to awake to a world that had been torn apart by madness. It had been left behind while the others went on into their mirror realm to continue what would eventually become even more conflict. During all of what came next the star baby once again napped and floated across the reaches of the long abandoned universe while the effects of the DreamWeaving cycle reached across the boundaries of time and space. Further influencing the growth of this not quite matured being, it fed off the energies of magic and ritual in the Iwakuans' dreams, growing into a star child which changed the physical appearance considerably. But it also implanted the very first dreams of growing up even beyond that form which was still so brand new.
Now the Star Child wore clothes and appeared to have a human's physical age of about twelve years.
SoulArts awoke the creature from it's naptime, the last dream it had being of it's own chaotic soul. A place that had the potential to stay as it was. . . or become a black hole. Darkness that the entity had been created to keep at bay dwelt somewhere within what could be termed the soul. Unilimited power rested within those fingers which could accomplish tasks of the most selfish or selfless nature. Choices that a mind which had only known hunting and exploration was forced to endure under much distress. Loneliness assailed the cosmic child while light and darkness battled to forge a true purpose, what it would fight for and even who it might follow. But it knew no one save for the stars, defeated monsters, and fragments of dreams it had fed upon.
In the end it decided on one thing:
That IT was in fact a HE. And that HE. . . was named Orion.
Reality started to collapse, coincidentally, not too long after that choice as Asmodeus had already died just a while earlier. Now the repercussions spread out in a supernova shock-wave on all planes of existence across the entire universe. Timelines collapsed together as everything seemed to pull Orion toward the epicenter of the distortion. Every passing second that it took for the new age to commence he he grew closer to what would become the new Iwaku. The boundaries of his physical form and his abilities grew more blurred with the widespread distortion. Peaks and lows of his cosmic powers ripped him apart back and forth from that of a mortal to uncontrollable energy stronger than a supernova. Reconfiguration altered just about anything that the space child had grown accustomed to during a lifetime that had currently spanned four ages of Iwaku out in the cold reaches of space.
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Then everything went white.
Older than before yet not quite a full grown man, he woke up on the outskirts of Iwaku City in a crater that fit right in with the rest of the desolated landscape. Pollution of the planet overwhelmed him and the color of his eyes darknened in response to the lack of purity in the newest age. Without use of his powers they could not shine with the cosmic purity of the previous incarnations of himself. He wandered around for days in the unfamiliar environment while the Mad King and his council rose to power. Staggering blindly through dirty puddles without a purpose, his choice had still not been fully made during the age of Soul Arts. And it left him a broken being.
During these early days in Iwaku City he had no memories of an existence previous to this new malicious age. Not only this, but the Without the knowledge as to ho he could activate his powers they remained useless and unused. Only a large trench coat of unknown origin kept him decent while a strange surfboard kept him company. Time passed and soon enough he was found by the council, granted clothes and along with them a classification as Guardian. He found that strange abilities that he could not remember let alone fathom would activate when he was protecting others. For this reason he stuck to his classification with the utmost adherence and loyalty to clients. It was why he stood there in the apartment with Miru at this very moment.
With his back toward the Shifter, he recovered from the blinding speed at which a past existence had blown through his mind. Dreams that lasted centuries occurring within seconds while adventures that lasted weeks went by in his psyche in a split second. Fragments of Iwaku's true history was splintered within his mind now. Things that Asmodeus had spoken about during the televised interview where Ocha mocked him.
Yet they were so fleeting he could not be entirely sure if these surreal recollections were real at all.
Perhaps this was just some strange mental attack from an unknown enemy who was using the recent information from the interview against him. Someone who wanted to weaken him enough that Pirogeth or even Miru would be open wide for an attack. Whatever the truth was he would protect these two so long as his assignment existed. Nothing would get in the way of his duty! Grabbing at the windowsill for brief support, a low sound of pain came from the blond until he turned to look at Miru. A twinkle formed in his eye that grew exponentially until the entire eye glowed with a power billowing with a cosmic aura that had not shone for years.
"My name is Orion. I am a Guardian for hire in this disgusting city. And I am. . . possibly. . . not of this world."
Dressed in the robes of their temple and wielding automatic weapons in response to the attack, two Bread Cultists burst into Spammy's cell and begin to apply manacles to his arms with the speed and precision of men who have done such a motion to the point it is muscle memory. "This one is to be moved from the building immediately. Inquisitor's orders."
"Inquisitor?"
"Indeed. Swiftly now, brother."
Spammy is pulled to his feet as the two priests grab him under his arms and march him out the door. "You will comply with all orders given, prisoner. If you attempt to flee, you will be shot--" The speech is interrupted by a burst of gunfire and a scream from elsewhere in the building, making both priests jump; they are edgy, nervous. They've never experienced an attack on their Temple before, no doubt believing it impenetrable until now...
...And from the shadows, a walking skeleton in ancient clothes follows them, waiting to strike.
I wait for them to move around the corner, then stalk after them, keeping my distance, keeping to the shadows. The priests lead their captive through the dim, foreboding hallways of the Temple, hallways now periodically lined with bodies and shell-casings. A sign of events afoot in the rest of this forsaken place.
Carefully, I snap up one of the casings lying upon the floor, and as the trio round a corner at a T-junction, I hurl it along the corridor they just left. The priests swing round, weapons at the ready. One remains with Spammy as the second edges round the corner, peering into the gloom for the source of the disturbance.
As he turns his back to me, I see my chance and take it, darting forwards and driving my diamond knife into his back. He screams, reflexively pulling the trigger and sending a burst of automatic weapon fire into the nearby walls as I wrench him back into the dark.
The remaining priest calls out his compatriot's name as I finish my victim off with a quick stab into the heart. His life ends in my arms, flowing into the diamond blade. I'll be sending his friend to keep him company soon enough. Abandoning stealth, I rush around the corner, diving around the Priest's aim and coming up again, blood-soaked knife in hand and grin covering my face.
Before he can react to my appearance, I drive the blade into the priest's side. Crimson gore splatters the stone floor and he screams, bringing his weapon round to bear on me. Tugging my weapon free, I swing for the hand holding the rifle, severing a group of fingers. The gun, suddenly coated in a layer of it's owner's blood, topples to the floor, the priest no longer able to grip it. He staggers back against the wall, raising his remaining hand to defend himself.
Pathetic, really.
I drive the blade down repeatedly until he can no longer hold the arm up to protect himself, then finally I drive it into his heart. Blood trickles from his mouth and he slumps to the floor with lifeless eyes. My eyes fall upon the prisoner the two were escorting, and narrow. I look into the man's eyes, and for a moment I consider ending him as I have his jailors.
But something stays my blade.
A familiar feeling, one I have a name for.
The... Cycle?
It's an odd feeling, to say the least. I realise that this boy lying on the floor before me is important in ways I don't yet know. He has a purpose, it seems, and I think it best not to interrupt such things. Reaching down into the priest's pockets for a moment, I then stalk forwards to the man, grinning broadly. One can assume the sight of a skeletal face grinning at you is unnerving. "I trust they were not friends of yours?" I say, motioning to the dead corpse behind me and dropping the key down in front of him, "Unlock those manacles, if you please. You may have need of your hands very soon."
Without warning I dart forwards, my face almost touching his. The grin remains, unnaturally wide. "Tell me, my friend, are you feeling inclined towards leaving the hospitality of the Cult?"
Grumpy straight-up murders some dudes, and is just about does the same to Spammy when he feels the familiar tug of the Cycle manipulating things. Realising that Spammy is perhaps more important than he appears, he offers to assist him in escaping. Being really fucking creepy whilst doing so, of course; he has a reputation to uphold, after all.
Both Weavel and Pirogeth made it back to the "HQ" fairly quickly after the talk with the General. Both Miru and Orion seemed to be standing outside enjoying the somewhat nicer view. Sure it was still a hell hole but the Council were treated pretty well, aside from a few internal affairs. Pirogeth noticed Orion take his gaze off the sky and the Advisor looked up to catch a glimpse of what he saw. Instead he saw the same thing he did most every time; the darkness of a sky ripped from reality. "They say once in awhile you can see a star…very briefly. That is before rift takes hold again." Pirogeth said to Orion while getting out his keys. "This is my associate Weavel. He is the representative of the New Asylum. Please everyone come on in and get comfortable."
-Somewhere Near the Bread Cult
"So where the hell are we?" Piroko asked as the blindfold was taken off. She gripped the pack of explosive devices tightly as she heard chaos in the distance. "We are near the edges of the central temple. Our guides managed to get us this far but it seems by our luck there is already a distraction in place." "Good this plan might work then. So the second in command takes the west wing of the main hall…" Piroko started handing out the explosives to everyone in their group. "…then I take the east wing and we rendezvous with you at the first of the two prisoner doors." "Yes that's the plan. We calculated we would have five minutes to pull this off if there was no distraction but we might have even less time if the ISAF starts trying to quell this situation. Be quick about it."Piroko nodded her head and took off with Torsty to plant the explosives in the main chamber. If there was one objective they were sure to try and accomplish, it was at least this rescue.
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"I will have to ask you two to keep a vow of silence about what I'm about to show you." Pirogeth looked to both Miru and Orion as he unlocked the soul identification lock. To be honest the room was not all that impressive and Pirogeth could not help but sigh as he walked in. "Another two down. Looks like I'll have to try and reset while I'm out." It was then he got an idea. A smirk developed on his face as he turned toward his new companions. "You two mind doing something for me while I'm at a meeting?"
Adventure stories! They can be fantasy, modern, sci-fi, all kinds! Give me some good world travel stories and I'm all over it! I also enjoy romance stories and even though I tend to play females I love playing gay men.
[dash=#483d8b]Zypher stopped short at the woman's pleas. It was clear that she was badly injured from the trails of blood trickling down the pavement. The loaf of bread was discarded carelessly off to the side.
A plan formulated in her mind. Her wounds might be worse then they looked but if Zypher could get her to her apartment she could patch her up and change into a new outfit so she could take the woman to the convent where there would be better medical supplies. Hopefully she wouldn't run across any ISAF or something worse.
Without another thought she reached down to help the woman. "Come with me, I can help you. I'll get you patched up, especially since it isn't safe out here." Though she wanted nothing more then to help this woman her mind still drifted back to the shapeshifter's plan and each gunshot or explosion she heard made her tense up, waiting for the big one that signaled the death of all those innocents.[/dash]
There was a bleak moan from the woman as Zypher gingerly pulled her up, her blood quickly soaking into the guardian's clothes. She was too heavy to carry, so Zypher had to loop the blind girl's arm over her shoulder for support, in order to awkwardly stagger the rest of the way to her apartment.
At least, that was the plan.
"Mr. Zypher," a cool voice drifted from the alley, causing Zypher to halt. From the shadows emerged a man in a tophat. He wore no shirt underneath his black jacket, allowing Zypher to see the writing, morphing tattoos on his flesh. He grinned at her.
"I must admit youre a hard man to fi'nd."
"What do you want with me?" Zypher's free hand ghosted over her gun.
"Just your time, I a'ssure you." D-A took a few steps closer, not bothered by the hand on her weapon. "Just come with us all nice 'n quiet, an' we won't hurt you."
"You're the one who's going to get hurt," in a flash, Zypher's gun was drawn, aimed at D-A's heart.
"Not a good idea, cupcake, it is two against one, after all."
Zypher gasped when she felt the woman's grasp on her suddenly tighten.
The woman twisted against Zypher and in a moment the arm, once limp, was curled around Zypher's neck. She was pulled against the woman and felt her lips against her ear.
"Oh, Zypher, I've longed for this moment."
Zypher felt the kiss, cold and dry, the cracked lips chafing her skin. She tried to swing the gun, but agony blossomed like a flower in her stomach. She had been punched, the woman's fist striking with unexpected force. Zypher dropped and in the haze the gun was lost from her grip. She knelt, gasping for breath, stuck between D-A and the woman.
"It's everything I wanted," the voice was a whisper, desperate and effeminate. "You dear, dear, girl. Zypher, I can't tell you how much this means. Zypher? Zypher, look at me."
Zypher felt her head being gripped, her cheeks being squeezed as the woman trying to turn her face to look at it. "Oh god, you're beautiful. Let me look at you. Zypher! Zypher!"
With instinctive haste, Zypher pulled away from the woman, trying to rise even as her stomach throbbed. But then a sharp clicked echoed through the alleyway and she felt her own gun pressed against her head.
"No!" the whisper came, sharp and angered, almost masculine. "No more teasing now. You come with us. You come with Sister Celcius. Good girl. Good girl."
Spammy's lips moved, but no words came out. Well, a confused mess of syllables came out, but they probably didn't form anything that sounded like words. His gaze dropped from the skeleton's down to one of the bodi-
Big mistake. He rolled over, trying to contain the rush of bile, one hand over his mouth and- Oh God one of the fingers was right there. He whirled around, trying to find a spot on the floor to look at that didn't have blood or fingers or some bit of flesh or God-know-what that doesn't look like it ever was part of a body.
Finally he shut his eyes, shudders rolling through his body. Somehow he managed to keep it down, so that his last meal didn't come spilling out as he tried to catch his breath before he popped.
And... the skeleton was still standing right there. How was he standing? How was he speaking? How did a skeleton in a suit get in here to brutally murder the guards escorting him? As Spammy slowly calmed down, the answer came to him: This city...
After a moment or two to catch himself, he grabbed the key, getting onto his feet now that he was sure he wasn't going to hurl. Reasonably sure. He still felt light-headed about about to lose it, but wan't going to yet. He kept his eyes off the body (and the fingers) as he unlocked the manacles and dropped them away.
"I..." He swallowed in a dry, lightly acidic mouth. The skeleton hadn't killed him yet, so for now he probably just had to trust that he wouldn't. Finally he nodded and let his eyes meet the bony sockets again. "I think I am."
[DASH="blue"]Well, now I'm pinned down by the oh-so sweet sound of machine gun fire. At least I've got a fairly sturdy column between me and the offending artists, but they're going to outflank me rather quickly if I don't come up with something. Barring that, they'll just end up shooting through the pillar and liquifying my internal organs...
Not a particularly pleasant thought.
Still, I had a bit of a tactical advantage that they did not; namely, if I want to be somewhere else, I merely need focus and wish it so.
The alleyway I jumped to and the stone walls of their temple made it impossible for me to hear what the exact reaction of their leader was, but I imagine it would have been quite entertaining to hear. I did get to see the look of rage and frustration on her face once I showed up outside the portcullis, though. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure someone could get that angry without popping a blood vessel or something.
Naturally, her minions quickly went to work on raising the portcullis. I just tried shooting through it, but it turns out the whole thing was used as the frame for some wall of force.
So, being the smart and intelligent person I am, I ran. Up the walls, specifically.
The various bread cultists and Señorita AngryBitch started fanning out to search for me. I'm not really intent on escaping right now, though...
It's a good thing that I was watching when they went to raise the portcullis; I have a fairly decent idea of where the mechanism to raise it must be.
It's been a while since I channeled arcane energy into my fists, but it's still easy to do. The roof just explodes inward under my fist, and I have to feel a bit sorry for the generic bread cultists. It's not really their fault, they're just way out of their league tonight.
The ground is rude and confrontational when I meet it, even with my best efforts towards conciliatory rolling. More importantly, though, I come out just a few feet from the winch I need to deal with, and the portcullis is a lot faster closing than it is opening.
Smiling and flashing a V-sign, I glance back to notice that the angry woman's not on the same side as all the guys with guns. That is to say, she's on the side with me.
The side that doesn't leave a bullet-blocking barrier between me and her.
Cover is taken, and a traditional gun battle starts. I'm a bit glad, though; she doesn't seem to think to raise the gate for her subordinates. Evidently the woman is far too focused on killing me at this point to deal with bringing her minions into the fight.
...There's only one thing to call this situation now.
I turned my head to take one last look at the cat that had escorted me out of the slums, he was already gone. Back into the underground. It's best I keep away from this part of town, it belongs to my childhood memories. As I continue walking back to where we first started our adventure the hunger starts kicking it. I haven't eaten since yesterday. All I have is a bottle of water, half through I put it back around my waist. I don't know for how much longer I'll be here, I called home to have someone come pick me up. As Torsty passes by the Cbox, he notices scrambling noises from the inside. A boy, worn out t-shirt and shorts, no shoes keeps watch outside. He looks like he haven't had a decent meal for days. There's no term for these kids, the ones who join up in gangs and scavenge the streets for lone victims, squatting in abandoned buildings. Most of them are filled with chemics and toxins, unstable, but nor zombies or heartless, the city made them.
As I pass by they come running out, what bottles they could find are now in their pockets and bags. My gun in my hands, I know I can take down a good number of them before they'd take me with them. Showering rain cuts the silence, the boys come at me all at once! I fire off a round before I jump back and roll over a blown-up chunk of a cement-block. I hit the first one coming in the chin with my gun's rear-end and hit the next one with a combinating move with barrel. Next thing, two of them jump on me, their bodies too close to mine for me to react. My strength is weakened by todays events and the lack of sleep and food, the beating starts on my torso, then an elbow to my temple knocks me out. One last gasp, then the world turns black.
Adventure stories! They can be fantasy, modern, sci-fi, all kinds! Give me some good world travel stories and I'm all over it! I also enjoy romance stories and even though I tend to play females I love playing gay men.
[dash=#483d8b]Everything had happened so fast. She had tried to help up the woman...or at least she thought it was a woman at first. Now she wasn't so sure. Her gun was gone and she could feel the cold metal ring against her head. Zypher spit on the ground, thankfully there wasn't any blood there. As she felt the pain subside in her stomach her anger rose and she formulated a small plan, one that didn't have much success but she was banking on them not wanting to kill her because if they had she'd already be dead. Celcius yanked her up by the back of her shirt and forces her to start walking. Now was her chance.
Her combat training from being a guardian took over and as a clap of thunder echoed through the alleyway she kicked back, knocking the gun out of the woman's hand and grabbing Celcius' other hand and yanking her over her shoulder and tossing her to the ground. Now she had a choice, go for the gun or make a run for it. As she stood in hesitation she felt the back of her hair being yanked and she was being twisted around and the barrel of her gun being pressed against her neck.
"Now Zypher, is that any way to treat poor little me?" Sister Celcius said, looking up like a wounded puppy that was halfway rabid. The man twisted her back around and held her arm tightly. Celcius stepped to Zypher and slapped her with the full force that he (or was it she?) could muster. If Zypher cried out it was lost in another clap of thunder. As her captors led her away she could feel the first drops of water falling from the sky.
"Now, let's just have a nice little walk without any more crazy interruptions." Celcius grinned wickedly at Zypher as she grabbed Zypher's other arm and the three of them began walking again.
"So do I get to know what you want with me?" Zypher asked half-heartedly not truly expecting a response.[/dash]
Miru listened carefully to Orion as he recounted his origins, focusing on him the entire time.
"An...alien? Does that mean there's other planets?...Then....we could escape this place...", he trailed off as he stared at the ceiling, his gaze distant. Other worlds...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later--
Orion and Miru had met up with Pirogeth and Weavel at the pre-appointed location after the short conversation with Orion.
"I will have to ask you two to keep a vow of silence about what I'm about to show you."
Miru nodded slightly as the lock was disengaged, in the dark about what was happening.
"You two mind doing something for me while I'm at a meeting?"
He perked his head up a bit, wondering what Piro was going to ask of them, and if they'd be safe, and why.
I'm not sure if it's the mauling or my impacting with the wall that does the most damage.
She's the only woman in the lecture hall, but they've all stopped staring, by now. They're listening intently to the oddly dressed man at the lectern.
Tegan catches her reflection in the amber and crimson swirl. Resting in the space between her breasts is a tattoo, an illustration. 
Zypher stopped short at the woman's pleas. It was clear that she was badly injured from the trails of blood trickling down the pavement. The loaf of bread was discarded carelessly off to the side.
Well, now I'm pinned down by the oh-so sweet sound of machine gun fire. At least I've got a fairly sturdy column between me and the offending artists, but they're going to outflank me rather quickly if I don't come up with something. Barring that, they'll just end up shooting through the pillar and liquifying my internal organs...