---

---

---

Jason had been running for longer than ever before. Throwing capes, throwing objects from capes, throwing things to capes, carrying people around...

He was in his element, but even then he could tell that things weren't going great. Even with the light-thing and all of the Triumvirate it just wasn't enough.

He watched as the PRT HQ got hit, hard, and as Inkscape himself rose against the creature and went down.

He watched as the local dragon girl conjured up a storm and was reduced to slag.

He watched numerous unknown capes burst into flames from the inside out, get crushed, have their bones destroyed from a roar alone.

He watched as people died, and he wasn't able to save them.

As the energy attack released, Jason took a moment to breath before it became clear that the beast wasn't dealt with. It was still alive, and their primary attacker so far was gone.

Almost casually he found his hand rising to the communicator that he had been given by that little dino girl. As he pressed the comms he spoke clearly, eerily calm.

"Is there anyone who can grant me the ability to survive the Kill Aura? I can put this bastard on his ass if I can just touch it."

For a time, despite the best efforts of the coordinators, chaos reigned. People scrambled to accomplish their various assignments, and the Margrave was among them. Having joined the search and rescue division lead by Inkscape, he anticipated -and indeed wanted- nothing to do with the terrifying monstrosity known as Behemoth. Sure, he could throw a few cars using his power, but why improvise a ramshackle solution when so many heavy-hitters were lining up to do what they were trained for? Though relegation to citizen-saving just like at the convention center boiled his blood, the Margrave preferred it on the inside of his body, so he embraced the task given to him. Along with the others, he sought out the panicked and confused, helping them flee from the deadly colossus as best he could. No matter how large or heavy the obstruction, it turned to practically nothing before his touch. Whole vehicles could be moved out of evacuation routes, or used to open up new avenues of escape. Fallen rubble could be cleared away in mere seconds, freeing those trapped and, unfortunately, revealing those who'd already left this place for good.

Though no small help in the search and rescue effort, the Margrave kept his ear to the ground. He perked up at attention when a voice reached him through his earpiece, belonging to nobody other than his very own division leader and veteran cape, Inkscape. Lo and behold, the man had found a job that suited him perfectly. He seemed to know the Margrave better than he knew himself. Additional weapons meant a better chance at driving off the damn Endbringer and preventing further loss of life. “On the case,” he declared, and made tracks toward his prescribed destination.

He'd begun moving the containers when activity caught his gaze. Like many others, he watched transfixed as a crashing cascade of ink challenged Behemoth. In awe he watched Inkscape -the leader he never followed, the mentor he never learned from- put his whole being into his attack, driving the Endbringer back. From this distance, the Margrave couldn't see what became of Inkscape afterward, but something in the pit of his stomach told him what had transpired. “The brightest candles burn the quickest,” he murmured, eyes downcast.

So, that was what a hero looked like.

He resumed his task, vowing internally to accomplish the last mission given by Inkscape, though he could not keep his eyes off the Denver skyline. In only a few moments, an incredible light filled it, engaging Behemoth directly. This thing the Margrave couldn't identify until a familiar voice reached him over his earpiece. ”Knock 'em dead,” he told Tulpa, more venom in his voice than he expected, though whether or not his words would ultimately reach her he couldn't say. Soon after a wild storm of energy suffused the heavens, a pure sensory overload. The Margrave rerouted his focus to running, closing the distance to the staging area with weapon caches in hand. He arrived just as things hit their fever pitch. After the veritable tornado of fireworks came a maelstrom of wind and debris; the young man couldn't even fathom what was going on. Having released the weapon caches from his power and let them loose for all to grab what they needed, he joined their claimers by grabbing one of his own and running after. At this range, none could really do any damage to Behemoth, or even be sure they hit, but the small group needed to do something, and shooting was all they could do.

A voice came to the Margrave through his comms, unfamiliar but dripping with intent. Frustration overtook him; if only he could make people into toys as well as objects. As it was, he could do nothing to help—and if that wasn't the order of the day, he didn't know what was.

Behemoth was taking more punishment than in most of his attacks. That fancy lightshow put on by Tulpa even hurt a bit. When the smoke and dust cleared though, Behemoth was still standing, unimpeded. Considerably smaller, no longer forty-five feet but a more modest twenty-eight, and thinner to match. A huge amount of its body had been taken off in the assault, but ultimately the Endbringer didn't seem to care. More attacks thrust into the monster's body, attacks that only minutes before were showing some damage. Only now they didn't seem to so much as scratch Behemoth, much less cause significant damage. To the experienced in Endbringer battles this was an understood phenomenon, but to the first timers it could be a jarring experience: the more damage dealt to them, the more durable they became. It was this simple fact above all others that made them so terrifying. Behemoth would never stop. No matter what they threw at him, eventually it stopped mattering while the beast was free to continue its rampage. Only one hero in the world could put a stop to the Endbringers permanently.

"Where is Scion?" Alexandria asked into the comms, pounding Behemoth with another two punches before dodging his counterattack.

"Reports indicate Scion was spotted putting out a forest fire in China two minutes ago," Dragon reported back. Behemoth launched another lightning bolt at Alexandria, which was summarily canceled out by a forcefield generated from nowhere. Nearby a woman naked save for a psychedelic pattern of colored force fields and a long horn generated from the same power landed on a rooftop near Alexandria.

"Good to see you got here, Narwhal," Alexandria commented, flying back in for another punch to Behemoth's face.

Once again the sound of thunder cracked against the backdrop of the battle, but something felt off about it. It was not as loud as Behemoth's usual thunderclaps, and the resulting bolt not nearly as large. The energy bolt shot from the ground straight up toward Behemoth's face, striking against the endbringer for a brief moment before dissipating, replaced by a man. Xolotl, lieutenant of the Community, had charged in head first and found his assault completely ineffective. With another thunderclap the self-styled Aztec god transformed and dashed away, landing on a rooftop. When he reformed, he was cradling a stump in the place of his left arm. A reminder of what would happen by attacking the most powerful, complete dynakinetic in the world would do when you were made of electricity.

---

Not too far from the battle, the android Celia was braving the most dangerous rescue environment possible, right near Behemoth where radiation flooded outward. The automaton did not worry for her own safety, lacking the biological components to receive radiation poisoning. If she could rescue any civilians before they took a lethal dose of rads, all the better. With relative ease she lifted up the end of a car, allowing a balding man to crawl away to safety. "Hurry," she ordered. "You're being poisoned."

He picked up the pace, now making a mad dash away. Celia turned her head to observe the Behemoth situation. It had actually wandered back, closer to her position. Dangerously close. She lacked any organic components and thus could survive the ambient radiation, but that kill aura would snuff out her systems as easily as any organic person. Self preservation coding took over and the android dropped the car, taking a leap back. Her launch was interrupted as she collided with...

"Oof!" cried a young woman, both of them bowling over one another. Chris Lange fell back a few feet while Celia simply halted momentum. "Watch where you're going!"

Celia had no time to waste processing power on why this woman was here in ground zero when she seemed to lack any brute defenses. Her stupidity would be her own downfall. Celia instead took off without a word, but not before Behemoth wandered in close enough for his kill aura to intersect her limbs. Power instantly drained from several processors and power sources. For the first time in her short life, Celia experienced fear and that fear focused her remaining processing power into a single action: run!

Chris Lange was not so lucky. Lacking the speed and reaction time of a mechanized android, she failed to so much as get up on one knee before Behemoth's kill aura enveloped her. In an instant all energy was drained from the poor girl's body, snuffing out life like a candle.

---

Sheila's ex boyfriend, now the villain Pester, had kept to the search and rescue team exclusively. His minion summoning meant that he could get in and rescue people without having to put himself in any direct danger, which was especially great in the areas Behemoth had already irradiated. He stood on the outside of a building, sides falling apart since the Endbringer had just walked straight through it, a safe distance away. He could sense that a number of civilians had been trapped in an elevator blocked off by rubble. Child's play, really. Concentrating, he projected his minion into existence and ordered it through the big hole in the wall. Satisfied, he sat back and waited for the results.

"Hehehehehe," came a rather childish chuckle from behind. "I told you we'd fine a good cape here, daddy. Can I fuck him up?"

"Not yet, child," replied another voice. "Remember the truce." Pester snapped around to see who was there. He met eye to eye with none other than Troll and Patriarch. Here? Now? What were they up to? Nothing good, he'd wager.

"What are you doing?" he asked cautiously.

"The same as you," Patriarch replied. "Search and rescue. And I imagine we're a great deal more effective as I command huge swaths of this city, while my daughter here can locate virtually anybody. We, well, I mean no harm. Here's an offer of my goodwill."

He held out an open hand, offering to shake. Pester eyed it warily for a moment, ultimately deciding not to take the risk. Patriarch had tipped just how his powers worked in that broadcast, and he wasn't going to get brainwashed. "I'm good, thanks. But there's a bunch of people trapped in an elevator in there if you want to help."

"So rude," Patriarch shrugged, pulling out a walkie talkie. He barked a few commands into it, and soon enough a whole crew of normal looking citizens came into view from around the corner riding ATVs. The sight distracted Pester from the villains standing behind him, so he never saw the nod Patriarch gave to Troll.

"Sheila's dead, you know. Crushed under Behemoth's foot. Splat! Stuck there like a gum wrapper, hehehehehe!"

Pester gave pause. He didn't turn around, he didn't look back. Was that true? She died? His heart broke in an instant, all sound melting away. All sound, that was, except for the crunch of gravel, the telltale signs of footsteps. He spun around just in time to see Patriarch's outstretched hand mere centimeters from his face. No longer robbed of his senses, Pester had to make a split-second decision. Would he demanifest his minion in order to resummon it for protection, thus abandoning the civilians? Or take his chances kicking Patriarch's ass himself?

Leaving those people in danger wasn't an option. One foot swept up fast and hard as he could, aiming straight for Patriarch's sensitive tool. BANG! Pester fell to the ground, his kick incomplete, blood draining from his chest. Troll giggled, haphazardly waving her gun around. "Looks like the cum rag forgot about me! Now you can do whatever you want with him, daddy."

Patriarch turned slowly to stare down his lieutenant, eyes piercing through the mask. He held his cane out as if to strike her, and she cowered appropriately, whole body trembling. "He is of no use like this. He'll probably die before he can be made useful... But he did make us aware of several people just inside the building. Get up, girl. We're refocusing."

---

Behemoth continued to carve a bloody swath through the city of Denver. More capes attacked, trying to knock him down or hurt him, and few even made it long enough to land a hit. Fewer still managed to deal any sort of measurable damage. Even with the extra weapons provided by Muramasa, distributed by Margrave, most of them couldn't even deal scratch damage to Behemoth. Meanwhile, absolutely nothing indicated that he would stop his rampage anytime soon. Nothing indicated his powers were even slightly fatigued. Sinkholes from below, arrows from afar, tornado vortexes, it didn't matter. Behemoth let out another bloodcurdling roar, the force of which was so powerful that two nearby capes were killed from their bones splintering.

The Endbringer made its way toward an office building, pushing through a series of forcefields erected by the Canadian hero Narwhal. The attack was not tactical, nor planned by the monstrous creature, but the building it attacked was of some importance to a specific group within Denver: the mafia. As reports came through the comms, Purge sighed in resignation. There was nothing he could do except to continue cleaning up the debris blocking the way to civilians. But Vanish had other plans.

"Boss," he said, speaking into a private communication device linked directly to Purge. "I'm going to stop it."

"You know you can't stop it, Vanish! Cut our losses, get out of there!" Purge yelled back.

"I haven't had these powers long enough to know what I can and can't do. All know is that your plans are worth my life."

"Get the fuck out of there Benito! Get ou-" He was cut off as Vanish turned off the signal, then dropped it to his feet. With a crunch it was crushed beneath his boot, immediately followed by another crunch as Behemoth stepped onto a nearby car. Vanish looked up at the approaching Endbringer, resigned to his fate.

"Hope this works." He placed both hands against the building, commanding his power to work. Slowly but surely the concrete and bricks began to disappear in a radial effect spreading out from the epicenter of his touch. Fast at first, the effect slowed significantly the more and more it spread to cover the large building. "Come on... Come... Ooooon~!" The Italian man forced his power harder than he'd ever done before when something clicked. Suddenly the process sped back up, quickly enveloping the entire structure. All that remained was a vacant lot with a single villain standing at the edge.

"Heh... Heh..." he panted. "I did it..."

The sound of thunder punctuated the man's relief, lightning putting a swift end to his joy. All that remained of Vanish was a charred skeleton next to a large building which sprang back up into existence. As if to mock the dead man's efforts and determination, Behemoth released a wave of blazing flames, enveloping the structure in a raging inferno. No longer interested, the endbringer turned its attention back to the capes engaging it in battle.

Boom! A rocket exploded right in Behemoth's face. The monstrosity didn't even flinch, but that certainly got its attention.

"I've been away, but Denver is still my home!" A man dressed up in a cowboy getup stood tall and proud a few hundred feet away from Behemoth. His arms, clearly mechanical, had split into no less than six smaller arms, each one wielding a deadly weapon. "And I've made meself some upgrades, pardner."

Arsenal had returned to face down Behemoth in his own personal standoff. The nearby Triumvirate, Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend each looked upon the young man with fear or disappointment. Legend even cried out to Arsenal, knowing all too well how this would turn out. But Arsenal chose not to back down. Bullets and lasers blazed a path of glory straight to the Endbringer's chest, pounding into Behemoth like an entire army. More rockets launched, locked onto Behemoth's energy signature. The arms constantly rotated, switching out the weapons being fired while automatically reloading the empty ones. The whole time Behemoth simply stood there, taking every single bullet, every single laser, every explosive, almost like it was making a statement. That statement was "your attacks are useless."

After a solid minute of hitting Behemoth with every single thing he had, Arsenal finally ran out of ammo. Even the laser guns had run out of power, cells drained of energy. Behemoth looked down at the cowboy cyborg with no emotion. It was only then that Arsenal had realized what a horrible mistake he had made. He turned tail and ran.

Lightning struck. Arsenal was no more.

---

In the main medical camp not too far away from the PRT headquarters, Director Kens let out a groggy moan. A nurse immediately rushed to his side. "Uuugh. My everything hurts." he moaned, eyes still closed.

"Director, you need to rest. You pushed yourself with this injury far too much already."

The director nodded, still keeping his eyes closed. "Yeah. I understand." Suddenly, the boom of thunder jolted his eyes open. The director attempted to sit up, but was kept restained by the nurse. He glanced around quickly, trying to take note of the situation. This wasn't the PRT medical bay. So then where was... ?

"Report the situation," he ordered, the man's normal "authority" voice kicking in. The nurse nodded weakly.

"It's Behemoth, sir. While you were out, Behemoth launched an attack."

"Jesus Christ. How long has this been going on?"

"About forty minutes now, sir."

Forty minutes. The death toll would already be high, no doubt. And Behemoth was the most durable of the three. He could keep going and going. "What about Scion?"

"Sir, last reports about Scion's location came in three minutes ago. He was last seen in Brazil, stopping the flooding of a small village."

---

Injured: Xolotl, Celia, Pester
Dead: Chris Lange, Vanish, Arsenal

The world was starting to crumble around them. With everything that was going on right now, Kendall was getting scared with every second that passed by, with more and more of the world shattering as it went on and on. That... that was their parents. Those two weren't looking good at all, rather close to Death's door if anything. It shook Kendall to their core, though they couldn't even imagine how Lillian was feeling after seeing what she saw.

Everything faded into a blurry, black and white mess as the only thing they could see in color was Behemoth over a few buildings. Whatever the heroes were doing to stop the monster in its tracks, Kendall was unsure if anything was actually working. He just... took everything that people could throw at him and retaliate by turning them into red mist. There was almost nothing that anyone could do.

A loud noise erupted from overhead, and Kendall looked up to see it. The building that they and Lillian were beside was coming down, and a bit of rubble had broken off, falling down towards the two. The tarry hero had one instinct on their mind as they jumped into action.

"Lily! MOVE!" Mastar erupted once again as she shoved Lillian, pushing the teen out of the way of the rubble before glancing up at it just about to hit her. She had a split second of time to react, so she tried her hardest to morph down to her tarry form as quick as she could. She had moved just slightly before the building decided to slam into her, clipping a strong hit onto the tarry hero and leaving her on the ground.

If she had been faster and in her full tar form, she probably wouldn't be unconscious.

Instead, there was blood on the concrete, and Mastar was out cold.

---

"Get these guys to safety!" Phoenix rushed forward to a random Mover in the street. She didn't have the time to ask for names, she just had the parents of a Ward in her arms and she needed them to get to safety before they completely faded... oh god, the mother was already unconscious! Fuck fuck fuck!

"Uh... Phoenix, right? I don't think these people are able t-"

"I don't give a shit! Get them to safety at least! We don't have time to talk!" Phoenix demanded as they looked at Behemoth in the distance, starting to charge towards the monster. On her way, she saw the corpse of a six-armed gunslinger, as well as a dragon-girl get slammed out of the sky by a bolt of lightning. She... probably didn't survive. Phoenix almost cracked down and started to cry as she ran, but she shook her head and kept running towards Behemoth. Though, when the sound of a thundering roar sounded from the beast, she turned to the side and booked it to a nearby building.

She inspected her body for any damages once inside. Sure enough, her entire arm was gone. Great, she'd have to die to get that back.

"You're Phoenix!" Some random kid shouted from in the same room as her, the kid carrying... quite the big gun. Almost comically oversized for the kid to be wielding, and... it kinda looked like something from that one videogame her friend had. Cratchet and Lank?

"You got that right, kid. What're you fucking holding?"

"I'm G4M3R, sorry to meet you on such bad conditions, but that's unimportant. This," G4M3R presented the gun with both of his arms outstretched, smiling wide at his handiwork. "Is the R.Y.N.O, or Rip-Ya-a-New-One. I'm a tinker with specialization in Video Game tech, and this is from Ratchet and Clank. It's a pretty powerful weapon, to be honest."

"Yeah yeah that's great, but are you sure that thing'll be able to hurt Behemoth? That cowboy over there just died from using his own guns."

"This thing'll do something, I guarantee that. I just... I can't get close enough to use it on the big fucker without getting hurt."

Phoenix thought for a moment, and settled on crouching down with her back facing G4M3R. "I can get you close, but I'm unable to get you through the death field. Think you can get a clear shot if I can get you close to him?"

"Yep!" G4M3R clambered onto the back of Phoenix, holding onto her with one hand while carrying the RYNO in the other. "Let's go!"

With a good step, Phoenix charged towards Behemoth once again, carrying on her back a walking AA cannon.

Abaddon stopped throwing things for a moment to properly take in the scene and everything that was happening with her and around her. She noticed the trail of destruction and death that Behemoth had left as it fought its way into the city. She noticed the change of weather, her body had pulled its self together, growing stronger as she threw more and more. She floated up and over toward Behemoth, moving to float in front of them, keeping a fair distance.

Abaddon lifts her arm, to talk into the communication device she was given, opening the coms to the general channel. "Metanoia, if you're out there, look to the sky, this is for you and this damned town!" She says with an annoyed tone. "And for the love of everything make it out of this alive..." she trails off, before turning her attention back Behemoth.

Abaddon hovers in front of Behemoth, radiating bright light, a wave of fear and horror washing over anyone who looks at her. Two wings of light had formed, stemming from her back, her body whole and complete for the first time in a long time. She raises her hands, contorting them, picking up two chunks of destroyed building from behind Behemoth, throwing them at full force, in the direction off either side of Behemoths head. She starts to contort her hands straight away send another volley but only gets as far as picking up two new chunks of a building before...

Crack

Abaddon yells as a bolt of lightning strikes her left shoulder, shattering the shoulder, her left arm falling to the ground below. One of the two chunks of the building falls to the ground, the other angrily slung toward Behemoths back.

"Stupid town, dumbass people managing to attract this thing with their war, destruction, and gangs," Abaddon mumbles rather annoyed, knowing she won't live if she continues to fight in this condition.

Abaddon sighs to herself, before starting to make a retreat to hide away in the streets and buildings of the city, both hoping to find and not to find any civilians of this town she came to dislike very quickly.

---

Based on call outs in comms, the glimpses he periodically got of Behemoth, and the state of the city, things were not going particularly well for them. He tried to focus on his purpose--and on organizing thralls--honing in on the trapped, injured, and salvageable in the wreckage, as well as calming people and enhancing the teamwork of his decidedly temporary compatriots. He kept a smile off of his face, despite feeling a certain warmth buried under the cold reality and barely controlled terror that Behemoth’s presence in Denver caused. Of course, the disgust and revulsion he felt when they came across charred corpses or people so injured that they were barely alive--more gore than person. Indeed, he had failed to hold himself together several times now when faced with the terrible carnage of the Endbringer.

Still, he kept on, swallowing down his bile every additional time he almost lost whatever little was left in his stomach. He had a job to do...and his own goals to pursue. He could hardly do that if the city and its inhabitants were totally eviscerated. He didn’t want to have to set himself up elsewhere, especially since it might mean losing his employer...and his many fans.

"In the collapsed building just ahead, we’ve got quite a few survivors," he pointed out to his group, gesturing in the direction to be more specific. He began heading in that direction, organizing those who would listen to him and--similarly--using the volume of his voice to latch onto the locations of those within even more. After a few moments of this some of the survivors began calling out, trying to help the capes find them more easily.

All the while, Chatterbox’s mind whirled through plans and processing information as he got it, organizing his moves if the city--and enough of its population--survived this ordeal.

It would be a totally new arena, he realized, and he was honestly looking forwards to the challenge.

---

---

Evading and watching at a distance for a long while after her projection had demanifested, she stayed with Cascade, keeping mobile and never staying in the same place for terribly long. She didn’t want to make herself an easy target, she knew that much. In the meantime, she used her tulpa’s shadow to locate capes--along with her comms--and then spread out its influence, detecting survivors and then pointing them out to groups. It was a maneuver with a dual purpose: Helping people and gathering powers and physical traits for her next attack on the hero killer.

Her face scrunched up at the thought, disgusted that even despite her efforts the Endbringer had felled some of Denver’s greatest defenders. It was just another point against this cruel, evil world they lived in. Shaking her head she refocused, mind more adroit with the added traits from Cascade’s power. After roughly fifteen or so minutes she decided it was time.

The silver silhouette drew itself together, consolidating its ethereal form and rising above the skyline of Denver. Evelyn bit her lip, sorting through powers and physical traits, mixing and matching as she felt was best until suddenly...she hit a block. She tilted her head and opened her eyes.

"Huh?"

She tried again...to no avail, her power refusing to add or remix further. She tried expanding the size of the projection. Nothing.

"What’s happening?" She uttered in what would become a quiet horror. Cascade raised an eyebrow, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What’s wrong?"

Evelyn kept trying...and failing, to add complexity to her projection, but could not, "I...I don’t..." she clutched at the edges of her clothes, mouth working, but no further sound coming out. She swallowed hard, a sinking feeling swiftly becoming an aching emptiness in her chest.

"Are you alright?" Cascade said, a worried tone entering her voice. Evelyn shook her head, took a deep breath and tried to calm down, repeating the exercise for a long thirty seconds before her heartbeat finally began to slow.

"My power’s not working right," she managed, her voice small and reedy. She grit her teeth and steeled her nerves. This...this wasn’t the time, the world needed her. She cast her eyes to Behemoth and the heroes desperately trying to slow the endbringer down.

They needed her.

Evelyn stopped rearranging the powers she’d planned to. It seemed she had more...limitations now. She wasn’t sure of the shape of them, or the reason they were so suddenly present, but she had an inkling and she also had more pressing concerns.

"It doesn’t matter." She said, determination leaking back into her voice and body language.

She’d tried destroying Behemoth and that hadn’t worked. Now she didn’t have that option it seemed. Instead, she’d have to slow him down. This in mind she settled on her projection’s powerset.

Threefold altered state: Single phase temporal matter lock~~Permanent~~Form modulation. Limit, mass rearrangement. Twofold: High precision expanded phase-integration. Limit, personal integration, range. Twofold: Integration-initiated transcendent escalation. Focus, radius amplification. Physical phase-state modulation. Focus, repair.

Then she began work on the silhouette and the physical traits of the form. The former expanded out into a huge grid-like network so closely woven that one would not have been able to tell that it was even individual ‘strands’. From there she assigned its traits, her focus intense, eyes closed.

Air+energy(weightless). Metal(solid).

That finished she took a breath and manifested the projection. The silver light disappeared, replaced by...nothing. The projection moved, its presence only apparent by how dust and debris swirled or was cleaved as it came into contact with the thing.

She decided that she’d call this manifestation the Wraith.

Its name given, the projection flew into motion, disturbing air and particulate with its passing, but otherwise ignoring all obstacles on its path towards Behemoth.

Soon she would see how the dynakinetic fared against the Wraith’s ethereal trickery.

---

Maddison clicked her tongue as she watched the carnage unfold, it was on a whole ‘nother level, so many capes had already perished and if Mire wasn’t careful she was going to join the ever-growing pile of bodies. While Mire had followed after Alexandria and her group Maddy honestly wasn’t sure she was going to be able to survive Behemoth’s killing aura, she could easily only put a portion of her body into the range and test if her breaker form was up to the task, but that did involve getting uncomfortably close to Behemoth. Maddy looked around at the other capes gathered then let out an agitated sound, how the heck was she supposed to get involved and not get into shit for her power making people freak out?

Meanwhile on the opposite side of Behemoth, a young girl was pulling herself to her feet after being shoved by her newest teammate. She bit her lip as she called in an evac for Kendall, waiting until someone took her unconscious friend to safety.

As she stood, looking at the beast in the distance, Lillian felt a growing indignation and anger at the destruction of her city. Her friends and comrades being hurt or worse.

She took a deep breath before she activated her comms, speaking with a cold calmness that betrayed the storm within.

"Dragon, right? Is there anyone here who can give me the ability to get close to Behemoth without dying immediately to that aura?"

Closer to the fight, Jason was using his power to throw tinker made weaponry at the Endbringer like he was throwing rocks. Occasionally a cape would step nearby for Jason to throw them as well, giving them a height to attack from that they couldn't get on their own. He worked tirelessly, his only focus on helping deal as much damage as possible.

But he still felt like he was useless, that this fight was never ending. So many deaths.

If only he could get closer…

Maddy continued to look on the scene not sure of what to do, though when she caught sight of an angelic figure in the air her heart froze. She could feel fear swelling inside her, so she quickly averted her gaze. Though instead of being shocked by what she saw Maddy couldn’t help but smile. If some other cape was flying around with some fearful aura, then Mire’s fear gas wouldn’t be a problem at all.

Maddy started laughing as she shifted into her breaker form, her fear gas almost exploding out of her. Mire struggled not to giggle as she focused all her effort on spreading more gas and reshaping herself. As the gas started to really pick up Mire’s body began to contort horribly, shifting into a disturbing monster. Mire started sprinting after behemoth, her ever-growing cloud of mist following after her. The more her gas continued to spread the larger her monstrous form expanded. By the time she got in front of Behemoths current path Mire was already standing around 20 foot tall at the shoulder.

Mire firmly planted her feet on the ground then let out a roar, the sound being a mix of an ear piercing screeching and an unsettling rumbling.

Lillian was moving closer to the battle on the back of some kind of changer after Dragon had given her response. They had someone who could grant temporary immunity, but she’d be on her own for defense outside of that.

That was fine. She could feel the shifting in her gut already, riding alongside the waves of rage growing within her, when she saw a gigantic shadow rise in the wake of the missing angelic form, surrounded by a dark cloud of smoke or mist of some kind. It flickered into view sporadically as it advanced, letting out something akin to a roar and a shriek combined.

As Lillian dismounted at the edge of the safe zone, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up she saw a member of the Jacks, the one who had thrown her and helped save her, as he nodded to at her look.

”I didn’t think it’d be you.”

”Naw. I’m here for the same thing you are, kid. I’m going to put that thing on its ass.”

Lillian nodded, feeling another hand touch her lightly on the back of the head, before something that felt like goo spread out from the touch, coating her in a lightly glowing purple aura. She could feel something different, and the sight was odd to behold as she watched the same effect almost drip down on Thunderbolt.

“You have 5 minutes. I can’t give you any defenses alongside this, though, not when it takes so much just to keep you alive near him.”

Lillian nodded once, running forward into the open intersection, before she pushed as hard as she could. She could feel herself getting larger, larger, larger….

Until she couldn’t push anymore.

As she looked towards Behemoth, barely any smaller than the Endbringer itself, she leaned forward into a charge as she opened her mouth wide and releasing a mighty roar to rival the Endbringer’s own.

Mire was biding her time, making a slow approach towards the endbringer still slowly putting on mass, getting closer and closer to her maximum, she was sitting around 29 foot at the shoulder. Though while she was stalling she saw another massive creature take shape, a massive T rex looking thing that was big enough to make Behemoth not feel like the titan that he was. Mire couldn’t help but feel excited, so rarely did she get to partake in such thrilling carnage.

Mire charged at Behemoth, lunging up at the monsters left arm and clamping down on it with her jaws. Mire could feel her mist being evaporated by Behemoths aura, but her main body was seemingly not affected. This pleased Mire greatly, all she had to do now was keep a part of her main body out of the kill aura so it could produce mist and help to maintain her size.

Lillian collided with the Endbringer's other side, her own gaping maw closing around his other arm. Her teeth sunk in just enough to get purchase, unable to penetrate deeper, before she tugged hard. Between her efforts and those of Mire, the monster fell backwards for the second time.

As he tipped, Lillian let go as she turned to slam her massive tail into him, expediting his fall.

Mire released her grip on behemoths arm as he fell backwards, taking a few steps back to avoid the monster crashing on top of her. A huge tail whip from Lillian slammed behemoth into the ground with a loud crash. Behemoth went to raise his left arm and aim it towards Lillian but Mire quickly intercepted the arm and again clamped down on it with her jaws. A lightning bolt shot out from the arm Mire was pinning, the bolt turning in mid-air crashing into Mire’s head and instantly disintegrating the better half of her upper jaw.

Mire let out a pained shriek as she staggered backwards until she was outside of the kill aura. Her head slowly filling back out and retaking its shape.

Lillian, meanwhile, backed up cautiously. Hunching down she looked ready to pounce as Behemoth began lumbering to its feet. Lightning flickered and crackled around it as it let it another bone shattering roar.

It was then that Jason made his move, running in between all the gigantic beasts as his body thrummed with power and that light purple aura. He'd found a trump who could boost powers temporarily as well.

As he came near, Behemoth stepped forward, likely to try and simply squash Jason like the insignificant ant that he was, only for the foot to stop before it made contact with the ground. Capes all around the area readied up at his word, not that Lillian or Mire could hear the order in their altered states.

Mire having fully recovered was about to lunge at Behemoth once more, but Behemoth let out a terrible roar before she got within striking range. The sheer force this roar carried knocked Mire out of her breaker form and sent her rolling across the ground. holy shit! Mire had never been hit by something so strong, in that moment Maddie struggled to pull herself back up, but she had yet to realize that her entire left arm was missing. She didn’t even know how it happened, was it burnt off by the kill aura? Or had her breaker form been so brutally shattered that she lost her arm that way? Maddy didn’t get much more time to think as she fell unconscious.

Lillian recoiled at the roar, retreating a little as something felt wrong inside her, and nearly missed what came next.

Behemoth raised his arm to strike at Lillian and Mire only for his body start to lift off the ground. Beneath the beast stood Jason, his costume torn and his helmet cracked as he raised Behemoth above his head.

"See you in hell you asshole," he muttered as he threw Behemoth into the air.

The sight would have almost been comical, seeing an Endbringer of all things rising into the air like a toddler tossed by its parent. Jason stood there, breathing heavily, as he watched the beast begin it's descent.

As it came down it came down flat, however, and he knew he couldn't escape in time.

His final thought before being squashed beneath the Endbringer was hoping that he'd been able to help, and that that kid would be okay without him.

Was it all hopeless?

Tinker-made weaponry, the Triumvirate, blasts of lightning, even that enormously powerful projection and so much more had done nothing but annoy the Endbringer. All the damage was cosmetic, its blasts still as powerful as before, its kill aura still active…

Metanoia wanted to strike at it, to bring hundreds of tons of mass down upon it and sink tendrils of carapace and bone through its flesh and tear it apart from the inside—but she’d seen what similar Brutes had tried, seen the enormous tidal wave of ink only end in the death of the cape that had been coordinating Search and Rescue. She couldn’t withstand the kill aura either, not without another cape’s assistance, and that cape would be better off protecting those who could actually injure the Endbringer.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Abaddon’s voice through the communicator. She turned her eyes to the sky, the wings on her back flapping furiously to keep her in the air for just a little longer so she could witness what her friend was planning to do.

Abaddon looked…glorious, perhaps, would be the best way to put it. A wrathful angel, utterly inhuman, her appearance sending waves of terror flooding through those who looked upon her divine visage. But Metanoia forced herself to watch, locking down all of her spasming muscles and impelling her wings to plow through the air and carry her higher. She opened her mouth to respond, impotent words of caution upon her lips—

And nearly fell out of the air in shock and worry as a bolt of lightning seared her retinas and obscured Abaddon. She began diving out of the air toward her friend’s last location before her eyes even regenerated, only pausing upon seeing that Abaddon was still alive and lowering herself to the ground.

Metanoia wanted to regroup with her, to find out how severely she had been injured, to make sure she wasn’t going to die in some alley on her own...but she still had a job to do, the communicator insistently reminding her of the nearest downed capes and pockets of civilians.

So instead she raised the communicator to her mouth, switched to the general channel, and calmed her nerves before speaking.

“Metanoia to Abaddon—I will.”

She left the message at that, unwilling to risk adding confusion to the general channel and obscuring important information. The communicator blipped at her again, so she folded her wings and dived out of the air, her controlled fall taking her in the direction of the downed cape named “Outsider” that required evac to the medical tents.

Metanoia—or rather, the elephant-sized fluffy wolf on the ground that served as an extension of her body and senses—found the rather distinctive cape in the middle of the street. She’d heard of the cape’s name before and read up on their wiki entry, but seeing the massive body was another thing entirely. She followed the trail of destruction the cape had left as he had crash-landed, portions of the rooftop missing from a nearby building and a deep furrow in the asphalt marking his passage.

The scent of ozone in the air was sharp and stinging as she banked toward him, her wings straining and tearing as she unfurled them to slow her descent. She still hit the ground with considerable speed, however, bones cracking and muscle pulping as she skidded to a stop. Severing her screaming pain receptors as her wounds regenerated, she raised herself up from the small crater in the concrete sidewalk and hurried over to the downed cape.

The cape seemed mostly intact, most of the damage visible as gashes around the “head” and “neck” area. Metanoia glanced at her wolf meat construct as she directed it to come to a stop next to her. The cape was even larger than the elephant-sized wolf, but perhaps she’d be able to rig up some kind of bone sled and pull them to the medical tent. That would take quite some time, however.

Tabling that option for now, she walked toward the “head” of the cape, the tentacled body dwarfing her own human body. Crouching down, she gently tapped the cape’s shoulder, her bone gauntlets clicking against the chitinous armor covering the cape.

“Hello,” she said, wondering how she was supposed to address an unconscious cape. “Can you hear me? Metanoia here, part of search and rescue.”

If Outsider doesn’t respond she’ll repeat her words again, still tapping the cape’s shoulder, and try for another minute or two.

Mantis and the group left the scene of Sylph's demise. They regrouped with Farce and drove back toward the search and rescue operations. It was clear that everything they had simply was not enough to kill Behemoth. The best they could hope for was to mitigate the death and destruction it caused. Mantis forcibly rejected the thought that he had indirectly caused the Case-53's death. If she hadn't been influenced by him, she wouldn't have thrown caution to the wind toward Behemoth.

Forcing himself into the present, he drove with speed and precision; evading debris, pedestrians and roadblocks. Healer followed on her bike not far behind. They reached a particularly large cathedral that was on the path of Behemoth's rampage.
People who never attended a church in their lives flocked to it like those same lives depended on it. Mantis parked the vehicle, flagged down Healer and spoke to his team, ”I'm going to try to get them to evacuate. They think a building will save them, but it’s distance that will.”
As they entered the front, crowds of people flooded the altar. A few priests were praying and attempting to give the people solace. The pews were flooded with people from all walks of life. Black, white, old and young. The beautiful cathedral was blanketed with lost souls in need of a shepherd.

Farce followed behind Mantis, careful to not accidentally get crushed by anything. The building was surprisingly structurally sound, considering every step Behemoth took shook everything around just a little bit. Or it felt like that, anyway. Regardless, Farce immediately got to work as she grabbed some of the injured and started to help them out, being a supportive shoulder for a hurt gentleman and carrying a boy out in her arms.

Healer did her job well, as usual. Taking care of the wounded and even healing those who had injuries that were internal. People were amazed and claimed miracles were happening in God's house! That was not the response they needed. They couldn't have people staying here. They had to do something fast.

Clothed in his cape garb, Mantis marched toward the front of the altar where the priests gave out prayers and blessings. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to disrespect them in the middle of their prayers. Another tremor quaked, signifying Behemoth's movement. Mantis could wait no longer. He turned to the crowd and shouted, ”YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! BEHEMOTH IS COMING!” The people turned, somewhat shocked. Some muttered, ”Isn't this the one who was on the television? “ The priests looked disapprovingly at him and continued their work. It was obvious they thought they knew something about this place that he didn't.

Mantis shook his head. Their reactions were wrong. They would get people killed. He released powerful feelings of terror and the phrase,


into everyone within the vicinity. The feelings cascaded over them like a wave. People began scrambling for the exits in horror. They pushed and shoved one another for safety for several minutes. Thankfully, it appeared that no one was injured. These feelings were overwhelming. Mantis continued releasing them until he was sure the civilians had evacuated. He purposefully attempted to avoid Farce, Healer and Axel with his powers. They still would feel some aspect of them, however.

When he turned back toward the altar, a single elderly priest was kneeling, clutching a crucifix in his hands and praying fervently. Mantis felt compassion for the man, removed his mask, and knelt down on a knee next to him. He quietly muttered, ”You have to go..do you want to die?” The man replied, ”My place is here. I've long ago purposed to never leave God's house until I, Father Hammond, leave this world for good.” Judah looked at him thoughtfully. The man believed in something bigger than himself with all his heart. Judah respected that. He stood up and headed toward his allies. ”It looks like we're done here.”

”Something tells me the priest isn’t coming with… I-I’ll be outside in a moment.” Farce told the group as she stepped forward to the priest, kneeling on her own beside him and staying silent. She wasn’t one for all the religious talk and babble, but with that monster running around, she didn’t really have time to question beliefs. Under her breath, she muttered something quaint. ”If I die, please let me see my brother again.”

Huh. Here I wasn’t expecting that.

She rose back to her feet and ran over to the rest of the group. ”Should we get a move on to the next building?”

As they were about to leave, Axel barked emphatically toward an area of the cathedral. Judah honed in on that area with his ability. It wasn't as clear as it was before his second trigger. It took more work to get it right. He began walking in that direction and sensed chaotic emotions from a room; indicating there were living beings in it. Only a door stood in their way. Judah attempted to open it, but it was locked. Then he knocked, ”We're here to help! Please come out!”

Behind the door they heard, ”We are safe here in God's house. We will not leave!” The cries of a child began calling out to them. Indeed, they heard multiple children in the room! This wasn't a matter of choice anymore..but putting children in danger.

”You guys aren’t safe. What’s attacking the city can kill Gods, you know! You guys need to get out of here, and quick!’ Farce tried to go for the intimidation approach. Sure, it wasn’t the cleanest excuse, but maybe Judah could help them see the light in their actions.

Healer shook her head, ”They aren't going to listen to reason. We have to do something..”

Judah nodded and marched next to the door, took a breath and kicked it in with his combat boot. It swung open; broken from its hinges. Inside there were at least forty people, including multiple children. He entered the room, pointed to the exit and shouted, ”GET OUT NOW!!!” More emotions of terror entered the room. Hopefully scaring the people out of their insanity.

It worked..for most of them. Twenty of the people pushed and shoved one another out of the way toward the exit. Four children cried in place. Sixteen screaming men and women ran toward Judah, Farce and Healer. They began to grasp at their clothing. Pulling and shoving them into the walls around. They yelled for all their lungs were worth. Judah tried to get free without injuring them, but they clung to his kevlar like ticks. Axel barked at the group. He even began biting one man on the leg who was grabbing Judah.

”H-hey! Get off of me!” Farce asked as a bunch of people piled onto her and knocked her down, covering her in a dogpile and keeping her on the ground. The vigilante didn’t much appreciate that, and try as she might to get everyone off her, she just couldn’t do it. Though, she started to notice there were a lot more guys on her than girls… which forced out Whip, either from will or from figuring out how Farce’s power worked.

”GET OFF HER, PIGS!” Whip quickly started to shove people off her, knocking them into the pews of the cathedral and biting down on those who dared to get near her mouth. ”You fucking shitstains don’t deserve to be knocked out by the heel of my boot!”

Healer shoved and pulled people off of Farce until Whip arrived thinking, ”She can handle herself. I may have to heal the people attacking her instead.” She kicked one man aside who had charged her. She heard the crack of ribs as her boot connected. The man fell over in pain.

Judah struggled to free himself from the mob around them. Axel continued to bite down the man's leg until he let go of his master. The man scuttled away with a bad limp and fell onto one of the pews. The battle with the civilians was tricky at best. It would be wrong to go all out on the mob. However, that wouldn't stop them from beating Lethal Force to a pulp with sheer numbers.

”Well well well, how ironic. It seems you have escaped only to be hoisted by your own petard…” came a deep, confident, and amused voice from behind the group. Patriarch had entered the cathedral, his walking cane tapping the floor with every step, echoing throughout the halls.

---

Wisp returned to her mission of saving as many people as possible. She noted how Behemoth was taking a pounding somewhere in the background, but she was staying far away from him. Occasionally on foot, occasionally carried by Persist, she reported on the locations of wounded people with her perfect sight all around her, and-

‘BACK!’ Wisp suddenly yelled at Persist where she had been carried in the air. Persist sharply broke his speed, and Wisp pointed towards beside a building. It was a bit out of the way (or other people would have seen the interaction), but she had just seen…!

Wisp and Persist landed by Pester. She stared down at him stunned. Her former boyfriend, or more accurately now, her ally as Creep… Along with Salem, it meant both her true allies had been wounded. However-!

‘This wasn’t done by Behemoth,’ Wisp stated, shaking. She used this as an excuse to explain why Wisp would be so startled by seeing an injured Pester.

‘Oh, darn,’ Persist said, alarmed by this.

‘Carry him back, and inform the rest. I’ll-’ Wisp’s voice was temporarily caught in her throat. ‘I’ll continue on my own from here,’ she eventually told.

‘Got it, leave him to me. I’ll get into contact with you later,’ Persist said, grabbing Pester to carry him to the medical areas. He flew off, leaving Wisp standing there…

… That. It was something she could do. Traitors of the truce. It was a threat Wisp could deal with. Far closer to her level. Wisp removed herself from reality, curving light around her so she could no longer be seen. Now, she was back in her element. No more trying to flinch around an unopposable threat she stood no chance against. This was just common human scum, the kind she knew and the kind she had followed to their lairs commonly enough. Now, it was a little bare on evidence around here, but she alone could catch them in the act with her invisibility.

Wisp dashed, invisible, looking for any sort of clue, hint of where the perpetrators had gone. She’d search the area, giving the in and out of buildings brief look-overs as she dashed, allowing her perfect sight to take in everything that happened around her. She still reported if she found any wounded, but now she was on a hunt. She wanted to track down whoever did this to her ally, whatever it took…!

…

---

---

Darkness and a ringing silence lingered in his nigh unconscious mind. He made no attempt to claw his way out from it, preferring to remain so, comfortable and unbothered, untouched by the world. However, as it dragged on the emptiness became uncomfortable and somehow claustrophobic. Imagery touched his mind’s eye, betraying silhouettes and oncoming walls meant to trap and constrict him in the seeming forever-space of the once-endless black.

Yet, as he mentally began to struggle against the pressure of unconsciousness, the silhouettes converged and a call struck his senses. Like an unbeating heart restarted his senses flared to life and a full body shudder pressed through his head, abdomen, tails and then limbs. No eyes were opened and no lungs expanded, but it was suddenly as if he could breath again. Nonetheless it took another bit before more life signs made themselves clear, the senses of his Second Vessel becoming apparent.

He’d almost died.

Where the hell was he?

He cast his senses out even as a voice--far too close and loud--rang through his body once more. It was familiar and he realized that in his fugue state he’d been hearing it. It was comforting like...no, unlike whatever he’d just been experiencing. What had it been?

Outsider’s body shuddered again and finally, arms pushed its chest from the earth and it aimed its featureless head at the being that had awoken him. The head tilted, its bio-signature was different somehow, despite its human shape. Of course, there was something decidedly less human near her, four limbed and animalistic it seemed.

"Huh?"

The hollow word emanated seemingly from nowhere and having uttered it he nonetheless felt as if it didn’t belong to him. He shook his head, shudders running down his serpentine body before he settled again. The sound he’d made brought new imagery to him as it bounced off of nearby objects.

The battered silhouettes of buildings and the ruined road beneath and behind him were now clear in his mind. Desperately, he hoped no one had been in those buildings when he’d fallen. At the same time reality proper sank in and relief washed through him, an overwhelming, unrelenting wave that drowned out the guilt and worry he felt. He might have cried if he’d been human in that moment, but for now it didn’t matter as he recalled the state of the city.

His head turned from the figure, seeming to regard the direction from which Behemoth’s roars emanated.

"Ah...Behemoth."

Getting his thoughts somewhat in order, Outsider turned back to the silhouette before him.

"Thank you. I...I’m not sure when I might have regained consciousness if you hadn’t come along." There was sincerity in his words despite their hollow ring and inhuman source. Then his body drew itself up, but by any mechanical means, instead it simply pulled from the earth, some unseen force resisting gravity as he checked that his form’s flight still functioned properly.

He knew that he should move on immediately, help civilians and distract the Endbringer, but he had to know who this cape was. "Ah, I’m Outsider. You are?"

He needed to know so that he would remember them. They’d pulled him from something and that struck a chord in him.

He’d see that he repaid them. If they all got through this that was….

---

The college student worked her way over debris as she tried to find a route to another vantage point to attack Behemoth. She'd fallen behind virtually everyone heading around this particular side of Behemoth, at least it seemed so to her, and most of her efforts felt focused on getting past debris or having to detour slightly to get around. Even now, as she walked down a debris and dust littered back road to get around a collapsed building, Allison's casual clothing was dirtied and in places already cut or torn...like she had come out of a warzone.

This was ultimately fitting, perhaps, based on what had already been happening to her this far since drinking that strange vial.

Even attempting to vent her thoughts about other things under her breath, at least to try to get her mind off the imminent threat of her own potential demise via Behemoth, had in the end only served to incite all of her frustrations more somewhat. It had also forced her to remember the details of "that day" over once more as well, and further recall what the bitchy MB had done at her college not so long ago at all. Two events that, combined with this, had made her introduction into parahuman life a miniature hell of some sort.

Her professor might have commented about it being a "learning experience" with a touch of empathy for her plight, if she had said what she was thinking now. Of course MB had to make crap up, however, to try to get into her head back there as well. Professor wanted to bang her? Dean had taken in bribes to keep her there? Puh-lease. She had worked her ass off to get as far as she was so far, even with her profuse enjoyment of the party life on the side.

But where did she go from here, really? In fact, where could she even go? College got shot up and such, MB and co getting off scot free for now due to an Endbringer, had pissed off the Community via Mantis' stupid plan, her identity was blown, and now she was helping in fighting an Endbringer with the usual high fatalities in play. She could see the towering form of a cathedral in the distance, at least, so maybe just become a nun then? Hah.

---

....It was at this point, however, the frustrated girl caught sight of movement. And then another. Allison picked up her pace to see who or what they were, only to notice they were just a bunch off people headed in the cathedral's direction. But hadn't everyone been evacuated? Frowning, the blade-shooting parahuman jogged her way over to one of the people, a large grown man with a tank top on and a gun holstered on his left hip, tapping them on the shoulder to stop them.

"Why are you all still here? Behemoth hasn't been driven off yet-"

The man turned around to face her quickly, giving her a highly annoyed glare before speaking curtly and rudely to her.

"Mind your tongue. Father will save us all, but first we must punish the fools who have dared raise their hand against him once more. These are the same as who slew our dear sister Francine with blades of metal. Join us in our quest, or get out of the way."

It was as if she'd asked the dumbest question in the world to the man, who seemed to regail this "Father" with the highest regard despite his tone. Some others seemed to stop as well as he spoke, walking over to seemingly support his words with nods of affirmation. However, Allison's gut seemed to wrench with a sort of familiarity as the man noted how a "dear sister" had tied. One could even say his and the others' behavior was like that of a tightly-knit commu-...oh hell.

"...Did you sister go by another name? Who were the people who slew her?" Allison asked, acting as if she was becoming curious and sympathetic about the matter.

The man didn't soften up, though a glimmer of hatred seemed to come into his eyes at the mention. Even so, he gave a nod to her before speaking with a certain level of solemn gravity. As if this loss has hurt him due to caring so much about it. It wasn't exaggerated, however, but felt more like someone who had lost a loved one in cold blood.

Yet the answer he gave sent a chill directly down the college student's spine.

"The great name she also took was 'Limbo', a name which in our Community did great work in Father's name. And those who slew her were a ragtag bunch of miscreants, horrid criminals by the name of 'Lethal Force'."

Oh no.

These people were members of The Community, and from the sounds of it they were going to help Patriarch himself...against the very group Allison had generally kept away from since "that day". Lethal Force.

Mantis, the 'leader' who had sacrificed his team's lives for petty revenge and taunted her own rage at the end. Farce, the only one of the group the college student felt amicable with and had attempted to contact once or twice. She didn't know if anyone else tied to those people was still alive, much less present at this point in time. In fact, she'd been the one to slay Limbo herself in her rage at the time, much to her chagrin at that point.

The man noticed her body tense up as she held her hands in front of her own chest nervously without thinking, his eyes squinting in a curious but cautious fashion as he looked her in the eyes. It didn't take long for an unspoken understanding to seemingly pass between them, the ideas clicking and turning in both of their heads. It wasn't like her unthinking reaction to the information wouldn't have rung alarm bells for a decently-clever individual. The man then quickly reached for his left hip, trying to get the jump on her.

But it was too late for that, perhaps, as Allison popped down her right wrist down and fired as the man was withdrawing his sidearm. A blade punctured deep into his chest cavity, before erupting out of the back of his spine and grazing another man behind him's shoulder. The withdrawn sidearm then fell to the ground, a revolver of sorts, as after a moment the man's body collapsed onto the ground in a bleeding heap in front of her.

As the body hit the ground, time seemed to almost slow before her very eyes. The few who had come over to the man began to shout, crying things like "One of the criminals is here!" and "Kill the bitch!". Allison felt herself reflexively popping down her other wrist, letting out a small spray of blades towards the general area her enemies were in. Those still close began to draw out weapons like guns or bats or knives, and some seemed to run back at the cries for help or vengeance with weapons already out.

The girl felt a bullet graze her right forearm as she tried to bolt for cover, one of her feet catching on the pistol and almost tripping her as the gun was kicked over to a nearby wall. Allison too scrambled over to the wall, nearly leaping the last foot or two to get behind the worn brick for cover. Her adrenaline was kicking in once more, and flashbacks of the cave battle rang inside of her head. In fact, save for the lack of tight spaces and a cave collapse this was literally the cave all over again....albeit she was alone this time.

But how could she even the odds?

Looking to her side as she sat on the dirt-covered and broken pavement behind the wall, she noticed the now dusty and slightly blood-covered revolver on the ground and grabbed it up without a second thought. She jammed jammed the firearm in her right pants pocket in her haste, eyes quickly looking up at the corner off the wall for attackers.

A very non-parahuman response to grab a gun, perhaps, for one who could shoot blades out of her wrists. Though to Allison's adrenaline-addled brain, it was better as a backup idea if anything happened to her arms. Maybe. Or perhaps it was watching too many movies and playing too many video games at parties, all where grabbing the extra gun from an enemy was potentially helpful for the protagonist.

Either way she had little time to actually think about things, as two men came running around the corner with a knife and a bat respectively. The knife-man even had a blade cut on his side, perhaps from her sudden spray she'd made before. The girl unleashed a spray of blades once more with her left wrist, as her right hand was still somewhat stuck in her pocket with the bulky revolver, swinging her wrist about in front of the men as she did so.

THUNK

CHUNK

THUNK

The first man with a bat went down with several blades in his chest and raised arms. Knife-man had an audible chunk torn from his side, before another blade caught his chin and went straight up into his head. Both fell to the ground just as dead, however, as the first man had.

As she freed her right hand from her pistol-laden pocket, Allison scrambled in the grime and blood and dust to get back on her feet with her back pressed against the wall for leverage. Sweat was pouring down her bandanna-shielded forehead, her heart nearly beating into her ears like a loudspeaker as she did her best to take some kind of 'ready' stance. She could hear the voices of her attackers as they called out to "move in" on "that frightened criminal", while maybe about two or three voices cried out that they would "go help father" in the meantime or "were injured by that #$%&".

She was sure it wasn't going to be pretty for herself, either way, if she stayed behind this wall. This wasn't a cave with a wall to her back, at least, but it also meant she could be surrounded.

While the panic wanted to set in harder at the thought of being surrounded and gunned down, the metal-shooting parahuman instead began to try to control her breathing. Bit by bit, bit by bit...and then she moved.

Darting around the corner, Allison kept her eyes forward as she let loose another spray-and-pray of blades. This time her target location was another wall, this one more destroyed and partially-standing in nature. In the process she did her best to aim at her assailants, though with a few bullets pinging around her it didn't feel like the best aim she could manage. She felt another bullet lightly graze the outer part of her left thigh now, but was able to see at least one or guy go down...and one of the others' guns get impaled by a blade at that.

Allison dove behind the new wall and took a knee behind the admittedly shorter and smaller amount of cover, not hesitating as she heard a bullet ping off of the asphalt close to where she had been a second ago. Though the college student had enough stamina to make this possible, she also didn't want to drag this out...in part because she heard the remaining goons moving into cover themselves. She had to finish this, before things got even worse on her end and on the other end.

As much as part of her hated Mantis, Farce could be where the goons were headed as well. At least, based on what that one man had said before she impaled his heart on a metal stick. Frankly, there was part of her that wanted to run for it and leave the Lethal Force people to their fate for following Mantis...but damn it. She didn't want to leave anyone to die by the contrivances of the "Mad Mantis". Likewise The Community has pissed on her college, and nearly murdered her on top of probably having killed some innocents. So just in general she had had it up to "here" with all of the "absolute bullshit", as it were.

Gritting her teeth, the college student tried to listen in carefully as the remaining two goons' shoes or boots crunched on the ground. Or at least, one of the goon seemed to be making that noise. Broken concrete and asphalt, debris, enough little stuff here made noise when you walked on it at the moment. She'd been drudging around enough in this junk to figure out that much at the very least.

And then it happened. One goon sprung around in front of her, gun drawn on her, and the parahuman let loose another stream of fire from one of her wrists at the man reflexively. But....at the same time the other goon came out from behind her, firing quickly at her back as he tried to take advantage of the moment. The bullet, flying a bit odd from the hasty aim, dug into Allison's right side like a burning-hot spear before it erupted out of the front.

As the first goon dropped deader than a thanksgiving turkey, Allison was knocked down on her side by the shot. Her left wrist, which was still spraying some blades, flung around as she fell, inadvertently sending a blade into the face of the second goon and causing it to be stuck in his skull. The body of that goon seemed to stand for a moment, before collapsing in a heap on the ground as well.

"Dammit...shit....fuck...ugh," Allison muttered out, reeling a bit from the pain of being shot before her adrenaline began to numb the sensation (at least temporarily) to where she could ignore it better, bite her lip, and force herself into a sitting position.

The college girl checked the wound for a second, watching the blood spill out very briefly before slamming her hands on it to put pressure. That much of first aid she knew about, and that she couldn't leave this uncovered either.

Though her right side felt somewhat heavier, and her body a bit shakier from the injury and sudden rush of battle, Allison forced herself to stand up and walk back over to the first man she'd killed. She tore off some of his tank top, and part of another dead man's shirt, before using the former to tie the latter onto her right side wound tightly. She then took the dead first man's belt, with the holster, and put it on herself to help keep the pressure on her wound.

She also withdrew the revolver in her right pocket, putting it back in its holster before she began to walk off in the direction any other goons had been. If she followed that route, then maybe (just maybe) she'd find Lethal Force there.

...The funny thing was, the sinking feeling that was now forming in her gut seemed to agree with her as well...

@Spiffy@Gardevoiran@ProPro

”The truce demands I cannot lay a finger on you… but that doesn’t mean I have to save you from the results of your own power.” Patriarch stood still now, people rushing by him to get out of their refuge. One however stopped short and bowed low to the villain.

“Heavenly Father! I knew you would not forsake us in Your holy house!” It was the same priest that had given Judah such a hard time before.

Patriarch’s mask prevented anyone from seeing his expression, but his tone sounded like an irritated man trying to hold back his contempt. ”Rise my son, and tend to your flock. This danger shall pass in time, and when it does return to this place and continue to spread my word. For now, save yourself.”

Unexpectedly, none other than Patriarch made his entrance. Even being preoccupied, Judah managed to glare through the chaos at the villain. Then Judah pulled the pin on one of his flashbangs and released the thought into his allies, Flashbang! Even Axel knew the sound of the pin when he heard it. He covered his ears and shut his eyes as it went off. BANG!

The majority of mob stumbled and fell to the ground, yelling in surprise. Judah stood up and struck one who didn't on the side of his neck. He was knocked out instantly. Judah turned and glared at Patriarch. Then he asked with venom in his voice, ”Have you come to confess your sins?” His hand hovered over his sidearm. Almost begging Patriarch to make a move. The rules they abided by prevented their confrontation. And Judah hated that.

Healer covered her head as the flashbang went off then watched as Patriarch arrived. After Judah questioned him she added on, ”We would be here all day..” Axel growled at the masked man still shook up by the flashbang.

The mob started to stir and crawl toward the exit. They groaned in pain. This was not a fight they could win. Those that decided to continue were quickly stomped out by Whip, though not for long as the sight of the big bad himself prompted for Fran to come back out into the world in Whip’s place.

”I… don’t even know how I should feel about you anymore, you… you…” Fran’s voice was shaky at best, as if she was trying to hold back tears from looking at the very man she saw as a father figure mere weeks ago. This was a man that would’ve, at a moment’s notice, ended the life of another parahuman after revealing his true name and persona to the world. How could she respect someone like that anymore…?

Hey, Fran, keep your eyes on the prize. He’s here to mess with us, don’t listen to him.

”That’s way easier said than done, Farce.” Fran responded out loud, though nobody else could hear what she had heard. She shook her head quickly to wipe the negativity out of her mind before looking directly at Patriarch and addressing him with a cold tone. ”Why’re you here, anyway, ‘Father’?”

As soon as Judah pulled out his flashbang, Patriarch took to covering his ears and averting his eyes. The weapon may have been used to disperse the crowd, but it could still have an undesirable effect on himself from a distance. Once the grenade went off, he observed the remaining mob rushing out. Some wandered in a stupor, but he paid them little attention.

The leader of all crime in Denver was about to answer Judah’s question, but his attention was stolen by the sudden appearance of Francine Chambers, his precious Limbo, in the place of Judah’s own partner. ”So you are a shifter, then. How very vile, taking the form of the dead to mock me. But if you wish to be my daughter so badly… I could grant that wish.” He held out his hand menacingly, but pulled it back before making due on his implied threat.

”I am here for the same reason as you all: To save my people from harm. This is my city, after all. They are my family. I desire nothing more than to ensure everyone is safe.” There was sincerity in his voice, something they could hear even through the voice modulator. He approached them, slowly, non-threateningly, hands up. ”I have the best information network in all Denver. You’d be foolish to deny my help. Shake on it?”

He offered his hand to the nearest of the group, Healer, who hesitated but agreed. No sooner had she gripped Patriarch’s hand did her body language and tone immediately change. ”Of course we’ll help you, Father.”

Farce came back out and ran directly towards Healer, making sure to keep her distance from Patriarch. ”No! Healer, don’t do it!” Farce was fairly sure she knew how Patriarch’s power worked, and touching the dirty crime boss was the biggest mistake that Healer could make.

As soon as the handshake was complete, Farce stopped approaching and simply stood back near Judah. ”... Judah, don’t shake that hand. I’m pretty sure Healer’s lost.”

Judah stepped forward as Healer went to shake hands, interjecting, ”Wait, don-” Patriarch was too quick. Something changed in Genevieve's eyes. Her wariness became an affection for the crime lord. With Judah's power, he felt a change in her emotional state.

Axel called out in distress to his former ally and family as he sensed a change in her demeanor. Judah gritted his teeth and held back tears. Here was someone who had helped save his life on two separate occasions. They had seen hell together, and walked through it. Now she was slave to a madman's will.

He donned his balaclava and replied, ”Gaia. Please save her.”

Then, Mantis turned his attention to the one responsible for it all. The death, the pain, the horrible suffering. Faces flashed through Mantis’ head; Zach, Dunn, Gaia, Samantha, Alison and finally Genevieve. Their lives had all been turned upside down since they encountered The Community. It was time to end this.

Mantis could hold back the pain no longer. He shouted a battlecry with all the air his lungs had within them and charged Patriarch. Tidal waves of rage swelled and crashed over Healer and the villain. Then Mantis faked a strike to Patriarch's face and went for a low kick with his combat boot.

”DON’T HURT HIM!” cried out Healer as she placed herself between Judah and Patriarch, rage swelling through her. The low kick struck her instead and she winced, but jumped straight for Judah with her hands exposed, intent on unleashing her collected wounds and injuries on the man. Patriarch held back somehow, failing to engage but he was clearly visibly shaking in anger. Judah’s power definitely affected him, but not to the degree it had affected others thanks to the rule of thumb that masters had an easier time resisting other masters’ influence.

”You’ll regret that, shitstain!” Without hesitation Patriarch produced a gun, a small pistol, from his jacket pocket and pointed directly at Judah.

”I can’t let you do that!” Farce said as she slung her own kick right towards Healer, knocking her into a pew before Farce drew her own magnum and held it in her hands.

”Stay out of this, Healer! We don’t want to have to fight you!”

Mantis ducked as Patriarch drew his pistol. Healer was knocked aside by Farce, giving him an opening. Mantis kept his head low and sidestepped while grasping the weapon. After getting a firm hold, he would headbutt Patriarch in the face.

The pistol went off, a bullet narrowly missing Mantis right by the ear. The sharp ringing of tinnitus, now familiar to Judah, taking hold. His headbutt connected, smashing right into Patriarch’s mask and knocking the villain back. Reflexively he let go of the gun which dropped to the floor, along with shards of his mask. The face of Patriarch finally came into view: the face of the man born as Dominque Douglas. ”Die!” What his dialogue lacked in originality, his body made up for in the sheer aggression of his assault. After all, he only had to successfully land one blow on Judah to win, no matter how light. He threw himself at his opponent like a wild animal.

As did Healer, who scrambled back up to her feet and rushed towards Farce, looking to impose as much damage onto Farce as she could. She threw her arm out towards Farce, who only nearly dodged by ducking down, finding herself to be replaced by another one of her personas, Whipstitch. She swept Healer’s legs out from under her and stood back up from the ground, staring at the rewired hero and watching her closely. ”You deserve every second of this since you sided with that asswipe.” Whip let out a nasty glare before spitting on Healer, stepping a few feet back so she couldn’t just swipe and get anything in.

Mantis got a sick sense of satisfaction from breaking Patriarch's mask. Underneath Patriarch’s calm, collected persona, there was a raging madman dying to be free. Despite this, his threat level was still extremely high. If any part of Mantis’ flesh made contact with the unmasked villain, it would all be over. Fortunately he was covered from head to toe in his uniform; gloves, boots, balaclava, pants, and long sleeves. Patriarch would have to get past them if he were to manifest his power.

Mantis’ ear rang loudly from the gunshot, affecting his equilibrium. Trying to maintain his balance proved more difficult. Despite this, he attempted a spartan kick to Patriarch's midsection to create some distance between them. Mantis only needed a few feet to draw his weapon and put Patriarch down for good.

As it turned out, sticking out his leg to be exposed like that wasn’t the best course of action. Patriarch wildly swung his cane, the outermost layer flying off to reveal a hidden blade beneath. The cane-sheathe rolled along the ground in Mantis’ footing while Patriarch slashed the vigilante’s leg along the side of the calf. A dirty trick, a nasty sneak attack, but it worked well to slice open both pant and leg flesh. Still, Mantis’ boot made contact with Patriarch’s chest and shoved him back. Unfortunately the loss of power from the sudden cut meant he didn’t go down, and only renewed his vigor, charging straight for the injured would-be-hero blade first.

Mantis grunted in pain from the slash, his leg bled profusely. Even still, he kept a cool head, deciding to forgo drawing his sidearm for something more immediate. As the blade made its way toward Mantis’ torso, he turned to the side slightly and allowed the blade to pierce into his kevlar. Then he gripped the sword with one gloved hand and took hold of the cane hilt with the other. He imparted the impression, DROP IT! in conjunction with feelings of terror toward the supervillain. Then Mantis pushed the hilt toward Patriarch and attempted to wrench it out of his hand with the twist of his hips in the opposite direction. Much like a rubber band.

Over on the other side of the cathedral, Healer hadn't managed herself quite well against Whipstitch as the two fought. Healer had been unable to strike Whip’s bare skin and found herself getting noticeably hurt through the entire fight, with a broken nose and busted lip being the two most substantial injuries she had sustained so far. Though, Whip’s lead wouldn’t stay for long as the ex-parahuman started to get cocky.

”That’s right, fail to my will like the piglet you are. Do i-” In the moment of cockiness, Whip felt bare skin touch her face as the injuries that Healer had sustained thus far were transferred, causing the ex to clutch her side and face in anguish.

”He’s here to help! Can’t you see that fighting it is futile?!” Healer explained to deaf ears as Farce reemerged once again, immediately drawing her gun, though it flew out of her hands as Healer kicked it from the air.

”I won’t let you harm my father!” Healer shouted, running forwards to push Farce to the floor, though stopping once Farce had ducked behind a pew of the cathedral. Things weren’t going to be so easy from that point forward.

Mantis proved to be a far faster, stronger combatant than Patriarch even without the use of his powers creating some emotional instability. He immediately dropped the weapon as the command wormed its way into his brain, unnerved but not nearly as terrified as he should be. Instead of falling back he pressed forward, a knife sliding out from his sleeve as he pressed it through Mantis’ kevlar. The tricky, dirty sneak attack penetrated the armor, but only stabbed about half an inch into the vigilante’s chest, still far too shallow to reach his heart. But it didn’t feel too good either.

Patriarch had a bag full of tricks, stabbing Mantis through his armor. Fortunately it didn't go very deep. Mantis growled in pain, but did not retreat. His enemy was right where he wanted him. Rage swelled through and all around his body. He struck Dominique in the face with the blunt end of the cane. Then Mantis took the cane sword in both hands and raised it overhead. He shouted out in a frenzied rage and cut downwards at Patriarch's neck. He didn't intend to strike twice.

Farce felt a shock in her stomach as she backed up to the wall, feeling that kick from Healer fairly well as it shook her to her core. More and more, she kept feeling the flurry and slogs of punches from Healer, each one stinging a little more than the last. If it was gonna keep up, then Healer would no doubt knock Farce out, and if that happened…

Come on, Farce! Show this bitch who’s really under your heel!

Farce heard Whip in her head, being herself. Though, she wasn’t sure if it was just Whip being herself or Whip actually being encouraging.

I’m with Whip. You can do it, Farce!

Farce found herself pushing against the wall as she heard Fran speak up in her head, feeling one more strong punch smash into her cheek. As the next punch was thrown by Healer, Farce’s hand came up to block it and hold it steadily in front of her head, coming to bring her own fist up to crack it against Healer’s chest, pushing her back a little.

”You throw a good punch, Healer,” Farce commented, wiping the blood away from her busted lip. She was fairly sure she had lost a tooth during that ordeal, but just as Healer was getting back up, Farce tore the sleeves off her shirt and held them over her fingers.

”But I’m not gonna let you change who I am.” Healer darted forward, right into Farce who threw a wicked punch right into her eye. She couldn’t transfer any wounds, either, since Farce tore her sleeves off to use them as a buffer between her skin and Healer’s face.

Patriarch saw it coming, but wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way. He brought his arms up to stop it to no avail. The blade slashed through the fabric of his costume protecting his neck, then into his neck flesh itself. Blood began to spurt out as his heart pumped the precious life fluid out of the severed vessels and onto the floor. He collapsed himself, clutching at his wound, unable to speak beyond a sickening gagging sound.

”FATHER!” Healer cried out, rage and anguish taking over her actions. Fueled by pure emotion, she clutched for Farce’s exposed skin in a pounce that would take the woman down to the ground.

Mantis watched as Patriarch bled on the floor. The supervillain was finished by his own weapon. He turned toward Farce and Healer who were still in the thick of it. Mantis tried to make it over in time, but his leg and chest wounds slowed him down. He released the impression toward Healer to cease while yelling out, ”GENEVIEVE STOP!”

That's when Axel leaped up and bit Genevieve's leg, knocking her aside. He ripped apart her pant leg and backed up before she had the chance to use her ability. Healer cried out in pain. She was bleeding from multiple places, and her “father” lay dying nearby. She whimpered in pain. Then she reached out and touched his bare flesh. As the wounds from the supervillain started to transfer onto her, the sound of shoes patting against the brick floor could be heard audibly...

”NOPE!” Farce darted forward before Healer had made much progress, delivering a full on kick right to the side of Healer’s head. The ex-Hero was tossed to the side and laid limp, knocked out completely. Farce stood looking at her, breathing incredibly hard as she shifted her glance to Patriarch.

”I-It… it’s over…”

But it wasn’t. Nearby, gagging on his own blood, Patriarch overrode any sense of safety and self preservation, reaching his hand into his inside jacket pocket…

As the bloodied ‘Excaliblast’ finally walked into the area of the cathedral, having mopped up a bit more of the “mess”, she seemed to stop in her tracks and look at the scene before her. Her eyes considered the Lethal Force members, especially Farce and Mantis, before coming to rest on the bleeding man on the floor: Patriarch.

Without a word, the girl pointed her right wrist at the bleeding Patriarch, whilst her own left hand clutched the wound on her right side. Three blades flew out of it, each one aimed at a specific point. To Patriarch’s legs was dealt a long blade that pierced them together and remained stuck in them. The next was a blade that flew by and severed off the man’s wrist, the very one attached to the hand he was reaching into his jacket pocket with, and laid a great gash across his chest. Then the third and final blade flew straight and true...only to pierce through the man’s private parts and up into his lower torso. A blow that would perhaps make even the mightiest of men close their legs unconsciously, and feel the phantom pains of an obliterated nutsack.

Mantis quickly glanced to see none other then Excaliblast pierce their foe. He smiled under his balaclava thinking, I knew we hadn't seen the last of her. Patriarch was “officially” subdued. Mantis turned and stared down at him with daggers in his eyes. ”You aren't worthy of dying by my hand. You deserve a dog's death…” Then he turned his back on Patriarch. Mantis glanced at Axel and commanded, ”Sick him.”

Axel immediately pounced on the incapacitated villain. The hound gripped Patriarch's throat between his powerful jaws. Axel tore it apart, growling viciously. Patriarch gurgled in agony as his blood splattered over the beautiful Cathedral floor.

At the same time, Mantis casually limped over to the sheath of the cane sword in his hand. He didn’t bother to look behind him. As if it was beneath him to give the dying villain the time of day. Mantis picked it up and resheathed the weapon. Then he pounded the floor with the end of it, making an echo throughout the sanctuary. Axel released the dead supervillain and trotted over to his master. Blood covered the hound’s mouth.

Mantis lowered his mask and began speaking with an air of relief, ”I'm glad you decided to help us, Allison. We didn't end on good terms and I wasn't sure if I would be next after him.”

”...You came very close to being second, Mantis,” Allison said in response to the now maskless man, her initial hostility somewhat apparent for a moment before she let out a long, drawn out sigh and continued to speak afterwards in a somewhat more casual and relaxed tone (circumstances notwithstanding), ”I ran into a horde of goons coming this way to help blast you all to pieces, and who decided that MB’s attack on my college and exposing me wasn’t enough ‘punishment’ already.

I did, however, clean them up...somehow. You’re welcome.”

The college student then looked over to Farce, before silently walking over and pulling the female into a hug. No words, just...glad to see a decent person alive perhaps.

In the mauling, Patriarch’s body had been moved around like a limp rag doll, in the process revealing the villain’s hand. What he had reached for he still held firmly despite death. Blood had stained a plain white envelope.

Farce hugged back, smiling a little, before she stepped over to the envelope and grabbed it. Within seconds, she tore the small paper envelope open to read its contents. She placed a hand on her head as it started to ache with dull pain, something she wasn’t used to originally…

Don’t you dare read that!

Farce’s eyes widened as she realized what had happened. ”D-did you guys hear that…?”

Allison blinked her eyes in surprise for a moment, seemingly in shock that Farce would be-...hmm….

”Er...Farce?” Allison said, the girl walking over and gently removing the envelope from the other female’s hands with her own left hand, before putting her right hand on Farce’s left shoulder, ”There is no one else here, unless you have voices talking inside of your hea-....”

Allison froze as she was speaking, cartoons with internal dialogue popping into her head at first. At least,before she remembered just what Farce’s power was, or...had been. She took a few steps back from Farce for a second, thoughts starting to race in her head. Ideas. Probably crazy people talk, but...was it her twin again? Or like, if not her twin then could someone else get stuck up in there?

In the meantime, she looked down at the contents of the envelope in her own left hand. Was something in here that had caused the voice then?

Judah limped with the cane over to Farce and inquired anxiously, ”Don't tell me..is he in your head too?” His body began to shake in rage. Everyone could feel the anger in the air around them. Axel whined in concern. Judah did not wait for a response. He suddenly pulled his sidearm from its holster and shouted, ”COME OUT PATRIARCH! I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU!!!” Judah waved the gun around threateningly, but did not flag anyone with it. That would happen when the villain revealed himself once more.

I had no idea that Master Baiter’s analysis of your power was so accurate. Her information gathering can be unreliable. Still, I FEEL like the real Dominique, not like a copy at all. Tell your insane friend that I have no intention of living like this and will gladly die… but first I have to get that letter to my son.

Farce grabbed the letter back from Allison, holding it away from the other members of Lethal Force. A second later, she clutched her head and sat down on a pew, looking up at Judah with a pained glance. ”I’m not letting him out without listening to what he has to say first, so you better put that gun away, Judah, before I get mine and make you do it.” Her voice was calm, yet callous towards Judah. Farce didn’t much like how far Judah went when they finished Patriarch off, and was still a little on edge with what was going on.

Judah angrily stared at Gaia for a moment then let out a loud breath of air. When she got like this there was no convincing her otherwise. He holstered his weapon and sat down in a pew nearby. He began wrapping his bloodied calf with torn pieces of cloth. It was a rush job, but it would do. Judah began putting pressure on the chest wound to counteract the bleeding somewhat. Then he leaned forward in anticipation for whatever would happen next. Axel sat nearby and cocked his head to the side slightly confused at the turn of events.

Meanwhile, everything was silent in Farce’s head. She could almost feel the tension in her mind and in the air as she spoke aloud the next few words.

”Alright, you’ve got the floor in my head, Patriarch, now... you’ve got a son?”

A real son. The only real child of mine. The kid hates my guts, but he deserves to know what happened to me. That letter is his absolution. It’s what will finally sever all his ties to me, to live free from my shadow. I planned to give it to him after I killed Mantis on television, but… Here we are.

”Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just open this letter after everything you’ve done to us? Lethal Force was my family, and I’ve seen too many people die from yours than I wanted to. Zach, Samatha, Dunn, Fran, and we might as well count Genevieve over there as another one lost because of you, so why should I respect your wishes and give you this last solace?”

You can spite me all you want and it won’t mean shit. I’m dead and I have no way to continue my mission by being stuck in your head. Shit, even if you let me out I can’t convert anybody else. I can feel how my powers are gone. So sure, you can be a dick for the sake of pissing on the dead. Or you can help ease the mind of a young boy who hates me more than you. If word gets to him that I’m dead before he sees the letter I don’t doubt that he may kill himself.

Farce paused for a moment and thought to herself. She looked up at Judah, then down at the blood on the ground, and she pondered if it was actually worth it to do the final deed of the worst man in all of Denver. Somehow, in some way, she kept circling back to wanting to give the man his last wish. That was somewhat a courtesy on Death Row with a last meal, so why couldn’t she do the same with a final delivery.

She stood up from the pew, still clutching her head. ”If I deliver this letter to your son, will you promise to call whoever’s going to take your position and tell them to leave these two alone? Surely you know that I can let you do it.”

I do not have an heir. The most likely scenario will be that my lieutenants will all share the position. But that can be done.

With a moment of hesitation, Farce placed the letter carefully in her bag as she looked at Alison and Judah. ”This letter is not for either of you two to read, nor is it for me.” She grabbed her gun off the ground as well and stuffed it in the back of her shorts. ”I’m going to make a delivery that’ll mean you guys’ safety from the Community after this. After that...” She trailed off, grabbing a blade from the corpse on the ground in the process.

Judah listened intently to the one sided conversation. She didn't even mention herself. He thought. What was she planning? Judah leaned on the cane and stood up replying, ”Gaia..we are a team. I don't know why you aren't including yourself in this deal but I don't like it.” He began walking toward her, tapping the cane on the way continuing, ”We are in this together. If it's a trap we'll be ready.” Axel barked in agreement. Judah glanced at Alison and nodded.

”No way. If it is a trap, I don’t want you guys coming with me in case none of us make it out. After that… I-I dunno what I’ll do. All I know is I might not see you guys again afterwards.” Farce looked over at Healer before back to Judah. ”Tell the PRT, or whoever you want, what happened to Healer. Maybe they can do something. I’m pretty sure that you should both join them if you wanna keep being heroes, Judah especially.”

”...Perhaps we can make a deal here, to get this all over with and settle things.
I can go with you, and make sure things go well while Judah stays here. That, or he goes to a location to meet me after this to confirm things went well.

However, I won’t ask or try to look at the letter at all. But…I want to be there to here and see how things go down in all of this,” Allison said, stepping forward between Farce and Judah (more a Mantis still to her), looking both parties in the eyes back and forth as she spoke,

”Also keep in mind, this is the Community we are talking about. Even if Patriarch is...in your head and being somehow genuine in all of this, and you can do your best to prove it, that isn’t a guarantee people are going to all listen. Including MB, who just ruined my college and my identity. Entirely.

And...you might need a better blade of mine than that after all of this, Farce...”

The college student let the last words trail off in the air, biting her lower lip as she stared Farce in particular in the eyes as she said it. She’d seen Farce grab that blade, yes, but what good did it do when there was a pistol? Nothing, unless one wanted to go out samurai-style and end it all. Allison’s mind ‘that day’ had considered such, even, and Farce’s behavior in her eyes seemed to ring that warning bell loudly.

Judah stared down at Alison for a few seconds. Then he turned his eyes towards Healer. He resigned himself and replied, ”I will tend to Genevieve...our meeting place will be at this location outside the city.” he texted them both an address on the outskirts of the city. Away from any major destruction.

Afterward, Judah brushed past Alison and went to hug Gaia. ”Stay safe. I know where you lived.” He muttered quietly with a grin. Then he turned to Genevieve and handcuffed her behind the back. He motioned to one of the girls to help carry her. She was in no state to move by herself to his car.

”I’ll be safe. I’m probably not gonna stick around Denver any more after this, though. Too many memories.” Farce calmly said as she dropped the gun she was holding to the ground as if it was a used napkin. ”Won’t need an empty magnum, either.”

Farce stepped towards the cathedral’s grand doors, looking out them with a smile and with her newly acquired blade in hand. ”I’d like to help, but I’m getting out of here before you guys can follow me. I don’t want you risking any pain from Behemoth, Allison. Judah’s got enough of a temper on him that I don’t need him killing any innocents. This is a solo mission.”

She turned back one last time. ”I’ll update you guys on my plan after I deliver this, but until then… au revoir.” Farce waved for a final time before darting out the doors and ducking into an alley, making sure that she couldn’t be followed by Mantis or Excaliblast.

Allison felt herself walking towards the cathedral doors, getting perhaps close enough by the time Farce's 'last words' rang out into the large room. Perhaps it was due to intuition gleaned from the other parahuman's words, or perhaps it was due to an unconscious desire to not let Farce stray too far away right now. But...

"Farce, you dumbass!" the blade-shooting parahuman yelled, frustration swelling up in her words as she bolted right after the other woman, "You are not gonna pull shit like this on me, like some damned martyr!"

...Either way, Allison was going to do her best to keep hot on Farce's heels.

Judah turned toward her as she began to follow Gaia. He sighed and tapped his cane on the ground, "Allison..sit down." Mantis maintained a level voice with the command. It had an air of authority which demanded to be listened to. His power covered their area of the cathedral. It began to overwhelm Allison's choices to the point where she felt like she needed to sit as much as her lungs needed oxygen. On top of that, fear began to overtake her emotions; amplifying the already extraordinary suggestion.

Judah was not about to allow Allison to stop Gaia from her mission, foolhardy or not. It was out of their hands and they had to let her go.

Allison felt the rather strong tug on her mind, a push in the opposite direction of what she was wanting to do. Her body began to suddenly move slower and slower, as if her limbs were being encased in wet cement. Her legs began to twitch against her will as well, burning with the intense feeling that if she didn’t sit soon she would collapse or something. This came along with the increasingly severe pangs of fear flowing into her mind as well, as if someone had just injected her with-....oh hell no.

”You...you bastard!!! You trick me into a suicide mission...you get Whip and Sparce killed...MB has ruined my school and shot me up and exposed me to the world because of that damned mission...I get jumped on the way here….and now…now of all times you want to make me sit like some petulant child??!?!”

The negative emotions began to flood out in full, Allison even gritting her teeth in her fury, as the fear being shoved into her mind finally tapped into the raw anger. The words Allison had long held in were now emotionally bursting forth like a shattered dam, flood waters cascading down onto the small town of her sanity below. All the while, the college student was forcing her body to move...even if it was a pathetic inch by literally agonizing inch.

Allison couldn’t resist forever or just shrug it off completely, that was certain at least, though...she was putting up somewhat of a hell of a fight in the process. Though soon her voice completely cracked, the raw fear, anger, and agony tearing Allison up inside, even as the college girl finally yelled aloud her swan song and tears began to move down her face. She merely hoping Farce would hear it.

”Farce! I know you can hear me right out there! Please...please, I beg you, let me come with you! Please!!!

...I ran away last time, I was afraid and scared, just happy you were alive. But I can’t run away from this any more! Not you, not any of this...no matter how it ends…please let me be there!”

But Gaia had left. Whether she heard Allison's pleas was not known. Judah somberly looked out the cathedral doors. The shaking of the building could be felt as Behemoth stomped ever closer. They would have to get a move on. He limped over to Genevieve and hoisted her over his shoulder. With his other hand he maintained a solid hold on his acquired canesword. Then he began hobbling out, clacking it against the ground as he went. As he passed Allison he released her from his powerful influence.

Without turning back he stated to her, "We can leave together or alone. It's up to you." Then he exited the intricately detailed doors without another word.