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[IC] Mavericks: Shadows of Angel [Lord Wraith and Stein]
- Superhero
- Modern
- 1x1
- GM Lord Wraith Co-GM Stein
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GM
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
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2 hrs ago
The service was lovely.
At least, as far as funerals went.
The sixteen-year-old boy could only muse as he walked down the neon-lit streets of New Lilith. Still dressed in a suit beneath his father's loose-fitting jacket, it was pulled tightly around his body to ward off the chilling winds coming in over the bay. A perpetual fog hovered close to the sidewalks and buildings in the older districts, a side effect of the exhaust from the ancient steam systems used to heat the city's infrastructure. The collected water droplets swirled a variety of colours from the advertisements and sleazy signs above, greens, blues and reds all vibrant against the dark sky of the evening.
The teenager had been so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't realize he had taken a wrong turn, leaving behind the Wharf and accidentally stumbling into the Lower East Side instead of the Milk District that housed his dorm. While no street in New Lilith could particularly be considered safe, the Lower East Side was the worst of the worst. Pulling the jacket tighter around himself and wishing for the days when his father was still here to keep him safe, the boy turned on his heel to head back to presumed safety.
But it was already too late.
Out of the corner of his eye, the teenager saw a motorcycle swing about at the end of the street, coming around for another pass. In the near distance, the sound of several exhausts echoed through the tightly lined buildings. The whole neighbourhood knew what was about to happen as dim lights in nearby windows were completely extinguished whilst shutters were drawn close. Like vultures circling a corpse, the roar of the engine drew closer and closer. Ducking into a nearby alley, the boy tried to throw his pursuer off his trail only to be confronted by four other men, approaching from the far end of the dark passageway.
"Are you lost? You look lost." One of the men at the far end of the alley asked, his face turned upwards into a cruel sneer.
"Dressed too nice to be from around here." Said the second while reaching for a weapon tucked into his waistband. The third man at the far end of the alley only chuckled wickedly along with the comments of his two companions The fourth man had nothing to say, adding only the sound of his knuckles and neck cracking as the four drew closer.
Behind the teenager, the sound of a motorcycle engine suddenly filled the alleyway before the engine was cut short as the final member of the ambush arrived. Climbing off of the bike, his heavy boots stomped against the cobblestone below, as the distinct sound of a spring-loaded knife opening could be heard reverberating off the surrounding brick.
"Your phone, your wallet, your shoes and your jacket." The biker ordered as the other four howled like a pack of hyenas.
"Easy there Terminator." Came a gruff reply from above the alley. Looking up the teenager saw a hooded figure leap towards the ground, landing between the five men and the teenager.
"Who are you supposed to be?" The same biker called towards the figure in the hood and long coat. "There are no heroes left in New Lilith."
"That's where you're wrong." Came the response as the shrouded figure twisted his wrist. Beneath the biker, a chord suddenly went taunt, entangling his legs and carrying him into the night sky. The clang of his head against the steel of the fire escape was an unmistakable sound.
"Cute trick, hero." The loudmouth with the gun yelled from the opposite end of the alley. "It's still four on one."
"You're right," The hooded figure replied, "Those odds aren't fair." He retorted, producing an orb from his belt.
"For you."
As the orb was released from his hand, the alley was covered in a dense layer of smoke. Against the smoke was a projected image of the hero, his decoys distracting the four remaining assailants, their weapons harmlessly passing through the projected mirages.
The teenager watched in amazement as the vigilante moved through the smoke, single-handedly downing each of the remaining assailants one by one. His movements were perfectly efficient, no flourishes only what was necessary. No energy expended that wasn't needed. When the smoke cleared, the teenager was surrounded by the five unconscious bodies. Out of the corner of his eye, something else caught his attention.
A nearby wall bore a new image. An 'I' and an 'A' stylized in blue and red against the dirty brick.
IllAdvised was on the move.
At least, as far as funerals went.
The sixteen-year-old boy could only muse as he walked down the neon-lit streets of New Lilith. Still dressed in a suit beneath his father's loose-fitting jacket, it was pulled tightly around his body to ward off the chilling winds coming in over the bay. A perpetual fog hovered close to the sidewalks and buildings in the older districts, a side effect of the exhaust from the ancient steam systems used to heat the city's infrastructure. The collected water droplets swirled a variety of colours from the advertisements and sleazy signs above, greens, blues and reds all vibrant against the dark sky of the evening.
The teenager had been so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't realize he had taken a wrong turn, leaving behind the Wharf and accidentally stumbling into the Lower East Side instead of the Milk District that housed his dorm. While no street in New Lilith could particularly be considered safe, the Lower East Side was the worst of the worst. Pulling the jacket tighter around himself and wishing for the days when his father was still here to keep him safe, the boy turned on his heel to head back to presumed safety.
But it was already too late.
Out of the corner of his eye, the teenager saw a motorcycle swing about at the end of the street, coming around for another pass. In the near distance, the sound of several exhausts echoed through the tightly lined buildings. The whole neighbourhood knew what was about to happen as dim lights in nearby windows were completely extinguished whilst shutters were drawn close. Like vultures circling a corpse, the roar of the engine drew closer and closer. Ducking into a nearby alley, the boy tried to throw his pursuer off his trail only to be confronted by four other men, approaching from the far end of the dark passageway.
"Are you lost? You look lost." One of the men at the far end of the alley asked, his face turned upwards into a cruel sneer.
"Dressed too nice to be from around here." Said the second while reaching for a weapon tucked into his waistband. The third man at the far end of the alley only chuckled wickedly along with the comments of his two companions The fourth man had nothing to say, adding only the sound of his knuckles and neck cracking as the four drew closer.
Behind the teenager, the sound of a motorcycle engine suddenly filled the alleyway before the engine was cut short as the final member of the ambush arrived. Climbing off of the bike, his heavy boots stomped against the cobblestone below, as the distinct sound of a spring-loaded knife opening could be heard reverberating off the surrounding brick.
"Your phone, your wallet, your shoes and your jacket." The biker ordered as the other four howled like a pack of hyenas.
"Easy there Terminator." Came a gruff reply from above the alley. Looking up the teenager saw a hooded figure leap towards the ground, landing between the five men and the teenager.
"Who are you supposed to be?" The same biker called towards the figure in the hood and long coat. "There are no heroes left in New Lilith."
"That's where you're wrong." Came the response as the shrouded figure twisted his wrist. Beneath the biker, a chord suddenly went taunt, entangling his legs and carrying him into the night sky. The clang of his head against the steel of the fire escape was an unmistakable sound.
"Cute trick, hero." The loudmouth with the gun yelled from the opposite end of the alley. "It's still four on one."
"You're right," The hooded figure replied, "Those odds aren't fair." He retorted, producing an orb from his belt.
"For you."
As the orb was released from his hand, the alley was covered in a dense layer of smoke. Against the smoke was a projected image of the hero, his decoys distracting the four remaining assailants, their weapons harmlessly passing through the projected mirages.
The teenager watched in amazement as the vigilante moved through the smoke, single-handedly downing each of the remaining assailants one by one. His movements were perfectly efficient, no flourishes only what was necessary. No energy expended that wasn't needed. When the smoke cleared, the teenager was surrounded by the five unconscious bodies. Out of the corner of his eye, something else caught his attention.
A nearby wall bore a new image. An 'I' and an 'A' stylized in blue and red against the dirty brick.
IllAdvised was on the move.
coGM
Stein That's Queen Stein, thank you.
Member
Seen
11 mos ago
She was falling. The cut of wind against her body, and the moisture this high up cutting like shards at the speed with which she fell isn’t what scared her. It wasn’t the lack of sight or sound. Nor the metallic gag in her mouth, stretching the corners of her lips until they cracked from dryness—only to be salted by her tears. It wasn’t those same metallic restraints also binding her hands and legs. It was that she knew she shouldn’t be falling, but all she knew was falling—she could remember nothing else past this moment. Not even her name.
But something burned inside her. Even in this wind and this plummet, it was a scent of peace. Older than her name. Older than her. Starting in her chest and working its way up, the heat flushed against the walls of her throat and spread over her skin. Instinctively flexing her wrists, the metal began to bend, but it did not break. The burn came again, this time faster and panicked. It sat in her throat and smoldered to an inferno.
--
The boy crumpled against the wall, the sound of his heart flooding his ears. He was almost killed on the same day he buried his father. That would have been it, no one would have known. “No one would have cared…” he spoke to no one—except the unconscious men before him. He couldn’t move, shock gripped his bones and froze his muscles.
“I would have cared.” The voice came from behind him, and for a moment, the boy—Marco—froze. A straggler that came to finish him off, because that was his luck, wasn’t it?
But instead of hoisting him, the hand he felt helped him up, and he found himself face-to-face with the second hero he’d ever met in his life, both in one night: Feral. ’Woah. He’s taller in person.’
The second Maverick pointed to where IllAdvised must have bounded off to. “And so does he, he just doesn’t always know how to show it.” Feral turned to face Marco, “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself…” he paused, his cowled brow seeming to furrow. “Now with your heart as heavy as it is.”
Before Marco could respond, he saw a purple glow emanate from Feral. Feral reached out and touched him on the chest, the glow spreading to him. “This will get you home safely. It’s a protection.” The glow brightened until Marco had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, Makarios was gone, but he heard above him: “And just know—someone always cares.”
--
She was falling, breaking through what felt like the moisture of clouds, when the inferno burst through her mouth that could not scream and into her ears that could not hear, ringing them like a—like something from when she was someone. They rang in agony until she accepted her fate, and let the falling take her to the end.
Except she didn’t end—she stopped. Someone stopped her. Someone caught her and though her eyes did not work, she could still see the same burning she’d felt before, hazed over her. She heard no words but felt a vibration that shook like reassurance and protection. A promise emblazoned on that something that was older than her.
--
There was always something about the air in New Lilith. Not the freshness—God, no. That left the city long before Makarios came to be. It was the familiarity. Even as he was now, the familiar scents of oil, salt and exhaust combined in a way uniquely home for him. It made him almost forget that he couldn’t bound the way he did before. At least, not for now. Feral had adjusted to these new limitations in accordance with his Pact. But not Makarios—who couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia in each leap over a rooftop.
He caught up with Chuck, the Maverick leader surveying the Lower East atop a radio tower. “You know, you could have at least checked to see if the kid was alright.”
But something burned inside her. Even in this wind and this plummet, it was a scent of peace. Older than her name. Older than her. Starting in her chest and working its way up, the heat flushed against the walls of her throat and spread over her skin. Instinctively flexing her wrists, the metal began to bend, but it did not break. The burn came again, this time faster and panicked. It sat in her throat and smoldered to an inferno.
--
The boy crumpled against the wall, the sound of his heart flooding his ears. He was almost killed on the same day he buried his father. That would have been it, no one would have known. “No one would have cared…” he spoke to no one—except the unconscious men before him. He couldn’t move, shock gripped his bones and froze his muscles.
“I would have cared.” The voice came from behind him, and for a moment, the boy—Marco—froze. A straggler that came to finish him off, because that was his luck, wasn’t it?
But instead of hoisting him, the hand he felt helped him up, and he found himself face-to-face with the second hero he’d ever met in his life, both in one night: Feral. ’Woah. He’s taller in person.’
The second Maverick pointed to where IllAdvised must have bounded off to. “And so does he, he just doesn’t always know how to show it.” Feral turned to face Marco, “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself…” he paused, his cowled brow seeming to furrow. “Now with your heart as heavy as it is.”
Before Marco could respond, he saw a purple glow emanate from Feral. Feral reached out and touched him on the chest, the glow spreading to him. “This will get you home safely. It’s a protection.” The glow brightened until Marco had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, Makarios was gone, but he heard above him: “And just know—someone always cares.”
--
She was falling, breaking through what felt like the moisture of clouds, when the inferno burst through her mouth that could not scream and into her ears that could not hear, ringing them like a—like something from when she was someone. They rang in agony until she accepted her fate, and let the falling take her to the end.
Except she didn’t end—she stopped. Someone stopped her. Someone caught her and though her eyes did not work, she could still see the same burning she’d felt before, hazed over her. She heard no words but felt a vibration that shook like reassurance and protection. A promise emblazoned on that something that was older than her.
--
There was always something about the air in New Lilith. Not the freshness—God, no. That left the city long before Makarios came to be. It was the familiarity. Even as he was now, the familiar scents of oil, salt and exhaust combined in a way uniquely home for him. It made him almost forget that he couldn’t bound the way he did before. At least, not for now. Feral had adjusted to these new limitations in accordance with his Pact. But not Makarios—who couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia in each leap over a rooftop.
He caught up with Chuck, the Maverick leader surveying the Lower East atop a radio tower. “You know, you could have at least checked to see if the kid was alright.”
GM
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
Member
Seen
2 hrs ago
"You're going to get all of us killed," Thomas yelled. "You're so singularly focused, that you're neglecting all the good we can do elsewhere." He produced a folder from his backpack, slamming it on the table between Chuck, Makarios and himself.
"Lauren Stills mugged and assaulted while we were staking out the lieutenants left at Locke's casino," Thomas explained pointing to the first case file. "Eduardo Cruz was shot during gang-related violence while we were tracking who was now using Locke's limo. Kyle Hitchens, his house was broken into and he was killed during a home invasion while we were watching the Mayor and Locke's last piece of ass play golf." He paused, letting out a heavy sigh.
"This obsession only leads to death," Thomas added, his tone laden with disappointment and resigned defeat before he reached into his bag and produced another folder.
"And let's not forget this one," He snarled, "Nathan Broc-"
The name had barely left Thomas' mouth before Chuck sucker-punched him across the face. Thomas didn't react, he took the hit while Chuck cradled his hand. The Enochian's living armour retracted from where it had appeared to defend from Chuck's attack.
"That was ill-advised," Thomas stated dryly.
"You don't get to use Gecko against me."
"His name was Nathan," Thomas snapped back, "Nathan Brock! And he shouldn't have had to pay for your mistakes with his life. Whose life will you use as penance next, are we nothing but meat shields to you and your narrow-minded crusade? You can't even refer to him by his name, Nathan Brock was nothing but another tool to you." He roared towards the shorter man.
"He was my friend!" Thomas' voice cracked on the word friend before the blonde young man quickly regained his composure.
"We followed you because you had a plan, you had it all figured out. You brought the Mavericks together. But you're just as lost, just as hopeless as either of us were when we started out." Thomas' tone had turned venomous.
"Maki and I matured, but you're still a little boy dressing up in his dad's leather jacket." He spat, the words hanging over the room as Chuck's gaze threatened to sear a hole through Thomas.
"It's time for us all to move on and end this." Thomas dropped the backpack to the table and turned to leave.
"I quit."
An eerie stillness seemingly fell over the city for a moment before a shiver travelled the length of IllAdvised's spine, a cold wind suddenly cutting to his very bones. From his perch atop a radio tower, the hooded Maverick continued to survey the streets below as another gust of the Northerly winds whipped the tails of his long coat into the air.
The streets felt differently than they once had. When Locke had been the reigning crimelord in New Lilith, the corruption had been evident, constantly bubbling to the surface, rearing its ugly head to provide the Mavericks with a target to attack. But now, the infection was hard to isolate.
New Lilith was still rotten at its core. But for the past year, Chuck felt he had only been attacking its symptoms and not isolating the ongoing cause of the city's infection. He had tried to branch out and recruit new vigilantes to his cause. Makarios had dubbed them 'Thrillseekers' rather than actual Mavericks, both as a point of pride in retaining a separate title but also because these new vigilantes were cut from a different cloth. Chuck, Makarios and Thomas all had a personal mission, an investment in cleaning up New Lilith. These new heroes though, were adrenaline junkies chasing a high and ultimately lacked the conviction required to make a true difference.
“You know, you could have at least checked to see if the kid was alright.”
"I had a feeling you were back in town," Chuck replied from beneath his hood and cap. Ignoring the well-meaning scold, he continued to speak. "It hasn't been the same out here each night with you. I always appreciated having someone I could trust watching my back."
Thomas and Chuck had butted heads numerous times over the years, but the night that Thomas quit was by far the worst. The pair were as thick as thieves from day one, both overly eager to take the fight to New Lilith where Makarios had taken more time to come around to the idea of joining forces. Numerous times Angel and IllAdvised had fought back to back and won against seemingly overwhelming odds. They were brothers both in and out of battle. Perhaps that was why Chuck had taken Thomas' resignation so hard.
His eyes scanned the night sky, a buried part of his heart hopping to see the familiar wings beating towards IllAdvised and Feral. But Chuck knew full well that Thomas and Tiffany had packed up and left New Lilith for the nearby rural community of Kilbride. He had settled down on a small farm, hanging the wings up and focussing on his relationship with Tiffany.
The woman that Chuck had introduced him to during their freshman year of college. Makarios had officiated the wedding while Chuck had been Thomas' best man. Thomas' absence had left more of a void in Chuck's life than he could admit, and Makarios knew it. Even nearly two years late, the former leader of the Mavericks still bore weight of a wound as fresh as the day it was inflicted.
"New Lilith has a way of pulling you back, it's a constant vacuum, a black hole," IllAdvised mused aloud, talking so that Feral could hear him, but not directly to the other Maverick.
"An abyss." He added before sliding down the tower to stand beside Feral.
"The kid was going to be just fine. He'll learn from tonight and he'll get tough. Next time he'll pay attention where he's going."
"Lauren Stills mugged and assaulted while we were staking out the lieutenants left at Locke's casino," Thomas explained pointing to the first case file. "Eduardo Cruz was shot during gang-related violence while we were tracking who was now using Locke's limo. Kyle Hitchens, his house was broken into and he was killed during a home invasion while we were watching the Mayor and Locke's last piece of ass play golf." He paused, letting out a heavy sigh.
"This obsession only leads to death," Thomas added, his tone laden with disappointment and resigned defeat before he reached into his bag and produced another folder.
"And let's not forget this one," He snarled, "Nathan Broc-"
The name had barely left Thomas' mouth before Chuck sucker-punched him across the face. Thomas didn't react, he took the hit while Chuck cradled his hand. The Enochian's living armour retracted from where it had appeared to defend from Chuck's attack.
"That was ill-advised," Thomas stated dryly.
"You don't get to use Gecko against me."
"His name was Nathan," Thomas snapped back, "Nathan Brock! And he shouldn't have had to pay for your mistakes with his life. Whose life will you use as penance next, are we nothing but meat shields to you and your narrow-minded crusade? You can't even refer to him by his name, Nathan Brock was nothing but another tool to you." He roared towards the shorter man.
"He was my friend!" Thomas' voice cracked on the word friend before the blonde young man quickly regained his composure.
"We followed you because you had a plan, you had it all figured out. You brought the Mavericks together. But you're just as lost, just as hopeless as either of us were when we started out." Thomas' tone had turned venomous.
"Maki and I matured, but you're still a little boy dressing up in his dad's leather jacket." He spat, the words hanging over the room as Chuck's gaze threatened to sear a hole through Thomas.
"It's time for us all to move on and end this." Thomas dropped the backpack to the table and turned to leave.
"I quit."
An eerie stillness seemingly fell over the city for a moment before a shiver travelled the length of IllAdvised's spine, a cold wind suddenly cutting to his very bones. From his perch atop a radio tower, the hooded Maverick continued to survey the streets below as another gust of the Northerly winds whipped the tails of his long coat into the air.
The streets felt differently than they once had. When Locke had been the reigning crimelord in New Lilith, the corruption had been evident, constantly bubbling to the surface, rearing its ugly head to provide the Mavericks with a target to attack. But now, the infection was hard to isolate.
New Lilith was still rotten at its core. But for the past year, Chuck felt he had only been attacking its symptoms and not isolating the ongoing cause of the city's infection. He had tried to branch out and recruit new vigilantes to his cause. Makarios had dubbed them 'Thrillseekers' rather than actual Mavericks, both as a point of pride in retaining a separate title but also because these new vigilantes were cut from a different cloth. Chuck, Makarios and Thomas all had a personal mission, an investment in cleaning up New Lilith. These new heroes though, were adrenaline junkies chasing a high and ultimately lacked the conviction required to make a true difference.
“You know, you could have at least checked to see if the kid was alright.”
"I had a feeling you were back in town," Chuck replied from beneath his hood and cap. Ignoring the well-meaning scold, he continued to speak. "It hasn't been the same out here each night with you. I always appreciated having someone I could trust watching my back."
Thomas and Chuck had butted heads numerous times over the years, but the night that Thomas quit was by far the worst. The pair were as thick as thieves from day one, both overly eager to take the fight to New Lilith where Makarios had taken more time to come around to the idea of joining forces. Numerous times Angel and IllAdvised had fought back to back and won against seemingly overwhelming odds. They were brothers both in and out of battle. Perhaps that was why Chuck had taken Thomas' resignation so hard.
His eyes scanned the night sky, a buried part of his heart hopping to see the familiar wings beating towards IllAdvised and Feral. But Chuck knew full well that Thomas and Tiffany had packed up and left New Lilith for the nearby rural community of Kilbride. He had settled down on a small farm, hanging the wings up and focussing on his relationship with Tiffany.
The woman that Chuck had introduced him to during their freshman year of college. Makarios had officiated the wedding while Chuck had been Thomas' best man. Thomas' absence had left more of a void in Chuck's life than he could admit, and Makarios knew it. Even nearly two years late, the former leader of the Mavericks still bore weight of a wound as fresh as the day it was inflicted.
"New Lilith has a way of pulling you back, it's a constant vacuum, a black hole," IllAdvised mused aloud, talking so that Feral could hear him, but not directly to the other Maverick.
"An abyss." He added before sliding down the tower to stand beside Feral.
"The kid was going to be just fine. He'll learn from tonight and he'll get tough. Next time he'll pay attention where he's going."
coGM
Stein That's Queen Stein, thank you.
Member
Seen
11 mos ago
The older Maverick playfully shoved the younger. “I keep telling you, that ‘feeling’ is our souls being connected.” Feral draped an arm over Ill. “This city hardened us. It made us what we are. But we shouldn’t forget that we carry our hardness and our pain, use it as armor—so the next generation won’t have to. At least, I keep telling myself that…”
“You remember that mission we had out here, closer to the docks, years ago? One of our first." Back then, Maki’s suit had been all thrifted and second-hand scraps. He could remember the way the cold had soaked his bones, barely dulling the excitement of one of their first big operations. “It was Locke’s trafficking ring.” Makarios instinctively ran his tongue over where he’d chipped a tooth that night—long since fixed, yet he traced the memory of the crack still. That night had been the start of Chuck placing his trust in Makarios.
She felt a pressure from her Savior. She, or he—pressed against her eyes. She felt the heat spread, gasping in response. It was bright—bright enough to show the shadow of a memory in the crevice of her mind: battle. Her sight was not back, but she felt the blinding substance flaking away.
Her savior set her down and was suddenly gone. But she felt a presence surrounding her, some aura of her Savior. And then they were back. In those brief moments, she’d begun to feel again. Her Savior was now a hazy shape of darkness against a murky gray background and she reached out to touch—to thank them for catching her.
But at the moment of contact, finger-to-face, a searing cry shot through her mind. Everything began to hurt, then everything went wrong.
“You told Thomas the op was one to get a lead to one of Locke’s drug rings and bust a weapon trafficking gang in bed with him. And you told me the truth: the night was about getting access to the drug ring, but we weren’t busting a weapon deal or anything. It was worse…” It had been a sex trafficking ring. Girls and boys, as young as 9 from the intel. “And so you figured it was best if Angel thought it was a weapon deal. He’d be more patient, wait for the right time. What you didn’t account for was that damn Enochian sense of his feeling their distress more and more until it clicked for him.”
Feral couldn’t help the laugh that rose from him. Before long he was wheezing, reaching a hand to Chuck’s shoulder to steady himself. “And all the sudden, here comes the Thomas, sailing in and through a wave of goons. A full 5 minutes before you’d finished disarming all their traps and tech. Only to tip them off to us, and only set off their oil traps. Which led to me charging in after to provide the fool some backup, only to go careening on an oil slick –because of course, my thrifted shoes didn’t have sufficient grip—into the side of one of the shipping containers.”
He looked toward the sky, almost expecting to see the big goof himself. Something about his Communion phase made Makarios more in tune with those around him at times. He could almost feel Thomas, or at least he thought he could. “His weakness has always been that he wants to save everyone. He needs everyone to have a chance to see the light of day as he does. It’s not a bad thing, actually quite beautiful. But anything beautiful on the battlefield is bound to be worn down.”
She heard cries. They were crying for her. But it was wrong. Cries she’d imagined, but were wrought wrong. There was a sickness and pain in them. But those cries needed her.
Maybe Thomas would come back, maybe he wouldn’t. But Makarios knew Thomas would always feel the call and the urge. Maki leaned back and gave a deep sigh. “He’s always been the Dawn…looking for that sunrise. He carried it with him, into us, into each mission. I was the Dusk. I knew the Sun’s warmth, but could feel the darkness. The beauty between the two. And you were the night, fearless in its mystery. That’s why we chose you to lead us. Because you rode with the unknown so well, in this dark city. And it didn’t scare you, it thrilled and excited you, delving in it to rid it. And we took our respective posts—Thomas, looking to the Dawn. Me, remembering the Dusk. You, melding with the Night.”
'No, stop. Stop, you’re hurting them!'
The older Maverick squatted, flexing his haunches and preparing to jump. As he did, and as he began to speak, “But enough of that, how about we—” his chest, his senses, were seized by a gripping tightness, like a jaw after tasting something sour. His words caught and his pupils dilated, before the feeling cleared and he gasped for air.
Why? Why was all she knew falling or hurting? Who was she? Why did it keep being taken from her?
Everything hurt…she just wanted to sleep. She just wanted everything to stop..
As Maki gasped, Glitch pushed herself through the comm-link for both Mavericks. “IllAd—Boss—CHUCK. Angel is in critical condition. Severe blood loss, fatal wound, no Enochian healing spike detected. Coordinates incoming. Report reading is bad, Chuck. I’ve got no visuals and the energy reading I have is murky at best. I can’t fully understand this one it’s familiar but—”
“It’s Nox.” Makarios interrupted. His heart was thrumming and he didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right. “And we need to be there now.”
“More intel: There are 2 unconscious hostiles, seemingly unconnected to the other 3. As well as one non-combatant. Their condition is unknown. First scan indicates the 2 unconscious hostile units are teched-out humans.”
Upon nearing, the two Mavericks would see the oldest Maverick slumped to his knees. The blood that covered them clearly his own, leading up to gaping hole in his chest. His eyes held that of shock, disbelief similar to his body as the Enochian genetics struggled to heal—his skin visibly pulsing to begin protecting and healing itself. Behind him, an unconscious woman lay on the ground. Glitch chimed in as Feral and IllAdvised descended on the scene:
“I’ve got rough metrics on the 3 hostiles. One is incapacitated or downed,” Glitch patched the report through to Chuck. Their speed and flight comparable to Angel, but less vector control and technique. Sinewy form, but capable of knocking back Angel so be advised.” She’d been able to gather intel from the initial cameras and satellite imagery over the area. Enhancing and homing in on data that would have taken 3 men 4 days to compile, Glitch completed the task in less than 90 seconds. “Local cameras were out due to them. They emit sonic screeches that seem to affect multiple frequencies. Their musculature and size betray a double-jointed flexibility. No visible ocular receptors, so field of vision is unknown. Talons in lieu of hands, capable of cutting concrete. There’s also a healing factor to consider.”
“You remember that mission we had out here, closer to the docks, years ago? One of our first." Back then, Maki’s suit had been all thrifted and second-hand scraps. He could remember the way the cold had soaked his bones, barely dulling the excitement of one of their first big operations. “It was Locke’s trafficking ring.” Makarios instinctively ran his tongue over where he’d chipped a tooth that night—long since fixed, yet he traced the memory of the crack still. That night had been the start of Chuck placing his trust in Makarios.
--
She felt a pressure from her Savior. She, or he—pressed against her eyes. She felt the heat spread, gasping in response. It was bright—bright enough to show the shadow of a memory in the crevice of her mind: battle. Her sight was not back, but she felt the blinding substance flaking away.
Her savior set her down and was suddenly gone. But she felt a presence surrounding her, some aura of her Savior. And then they were back. In those brief moments, she’d begun to feel again. Her Savior was now a hazy shape of darkness against a murky gray background and she reached out to touch—to thank them for catching her.
But at the moment of contact, finger-to-face, a searing cry shot through her mind. Everything began to hurt, then everything went wrong.
[--LOG: SUBJECT—T******CODE:ANGEL
…UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE CONTEXTUAL DATA FOR DATA RECONSTRUCTION
DAMAGE TO SYSTEMS: NONE; DATA:UNAVL
CMMND: FORCE-EXTRAPOLATION-- BOOTING CORRUPTED LOG…
--ELEVATION-TO-RAPID DESCENT: GROUND LEVEL
!INTERACTION DETECTED: EXTERNAL PHYSIOLOGICAL ENTITY
H.R.=NORMAL;PULSE=NRML;ADRENAL=NRML;ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL}:NON-VOLATILE
RESULT:NON-HOSTILE ENTITY
!CONTACT DETECTED WITH ENTITY->RESULT:ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL}:ACTIVE
RISE IN ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL}:DEEMED VOLUNTARY
**ALERT**ALERT**DECIBEL LVL-HIGH;PRESENCE(S) INTERACT WITH SUB-PROCESS SUIT SCANNER
!INTERACTION DETECTED: EXTERNAL PHYSIOLOGICAL ENTITY-MULTIPLE
H.R./PULSE/ADRENAL=ELVTD;ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL}:ACTIVE-REACTIVE
ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL} SURGE DETECTED; RESULT: INITIATE PROTOCOLS: AERO-OFFENSE PROTOCOLS
RESULT: AERO GAUGE SPEED RECORD 110KM/S
!CONTACT DETECTED: RESULT – ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL}: SURGE-OFFENSIVE
!CONTACT DETECTED: RESULT--
****UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE LOG. CMMND: HALTED****]
--
“You told Thomas the op was one to get a lead to one of Locke’s drug rings and bust a weapon trafficking gang in bed with him. And you told me the truth: the night was about getting access to the drug ring, but we weren’t busting a weapon deal or anything. It was worse…” It had been a sex trafficking ring. Girls and boys, as young as 9 from the intel. “And so you figured it was best if Angel thought it was a weapon deal. He’d be more patient, wait for the right time. What you didn’t account for was that damn Enochian sense of his feeling their distress more and more until it clicked for him.”
Feral couldn’t help the laugh that rose from him. Before long he was wheezing, reaching a hand to Chuck’s shoulder to steady himself. “And all the sudden, here comes the Thomas, sailing in and through a wave of goons. A full 5 minutes before you’d finished disarming all their traps and tech. Only to tip them off to us, and only set off their oil traps. Which led to me charging in after to provide the fool some backup, only to go careening on an oil slick –because of course, my thrifted shoes didn’t have sufficient grip—into the side of one of the shipping containers.”
He looked toward the sky, almost expecting to see the big goof himself. Something about his Communion phase made Makarios more in tune with those around him at times. He could almost feel Thomas, or at least he thought he could. “His weakness has always been that he wants to save everyone. He needs everyone to have a chance to see the light of day as he does. It’s not a bad thing, actually quite beautiful. But anything beautiful on the battlefield is bound to be worn down.”
--
She heard cries. They were crying for her. But it was wrong. Cries she’d imagined, but were wrought wrong. There was a sickness and pain in them. But those cries needed her.
[--LOG: SUBJECT—T******CODE:ANGEL
…UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE CONTEXTUAL DATA FOR DATA RECONSTRUCTION
DAMAGE TO SYSTEMS: NONE; DATA: UNAVL
CMMND: FORCE-EXTRAPOLATION-- BOOTING CORRUPTED LOG…
**ALERT**ALERT**ALERT**DECIBEL LVL-HIGH; EXTERNAL FORCE DETECTED; HOSTILE PRESENCE(S)
RESULT: OFFENSIVE PROTCOLS
!INTERACTION DETECTED: METRIC RESULT=ENGAGING HOSTILE
MUSCULATURE TENSION {BRACE} ARMOR UNBREACHED
GAUNTLET/FIST RECORD: 10K N FORCE EXERTED
RAPID ACCELERATION DETECTED-RESULT: AERO PRTCL
RESULT: GAUGE SPEED RECORD 170KM/S
**ALERT**IMPACT DETECTED; RESULT=INTENTIONAL
RESULT: 15K N FORCE EXERTED
**ALERT**ALERT**ENOCHIAN{EXTERNAL} WAVE DETECTED; UNKNOWN WAVE DETECTED
H.R./PULSE=ELVTD;ADRENAL=NRML--
****UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE LOG. CMMND: HALTED****]
--
Maybe Thomas would come back, maybe he wouldn’t. But Makarios knew Thomas would always feel the call and the urge. Maki leaned back and gave a deep sigh. “He’s always been the Dawn…looking for that sunrise. He carried it with him, into us, into each mission. I was the Dusk. I knew the Sun’s warmth, but could feel the darkness. The beauty between the two. And you were the night, fearless in its mystery. That’s why we chose you to lead us. Because you rode with the unknown so well, in this dark city. And it didn’t scare you, it thrilled and excited you, delving in it to rid it. And we took our respective posts—Thomas, looking to the Dawn. Me, remembering the Dusk. You, melding with the Night.”
--
'No, stop. Stop, you’re hurting them!'
[--LOG: SUBJECT—T******CODE:ANGEL
…UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE CONTEXTUAL DATA FOR DATA RECONSTRUCTION
DAMAGE TO SYSTEMS: HIGH; DATA: UNAVL
CMMND: FORCE-EXTRAPOLATION-- BOOTING CORRUPTED LOG…
**ALERT**HOSTILE PRESENCE(S)-ENGAGED
H.R./PULSE/ADRENAL=!!;ENOCHIAN {INTERNAL-TURNED-EXTERNAL}
RESULT:SHIELD PROTCOL
SENSORS TRACING ANGEL ENOCHIAN SIGNATURE-ENACT EXO-SENSORY
**ALERT**INCOMING HOSTILE: 200 KM/S
30K N EXTERNAL FORCE DETECTED
RESULT: REACTIVE DEFENSE ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL-EXTERNAL} DETECTED
ENOCHIAN {INTERNAL-TURNED-EXTERNAL} SURGE – CATEGORY: ALPHA
****UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE LOG. CMMND: HALTED****]
--
The older Maverick squatted, flexing his haunches and preparing to jump. As he did, and as he began to speak, “But enough of that, how about we—” his chest, his senses, were seized by a gripping tightness, like a jaw after tasting something sour. His words caught and his pupils dilated, before the feeling cleared and he gasped for air.
--
Why? Why was all she knew falling or hurting? Who was she? Why did it keep being taken from her?
Everything hurt…she just wanted to sleep. She just wanted everything to stop..
[--LOG: SUBJECT—T******CODE:ANGEL
…UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE CONTEXTUAL DATA FOR DATA RECONSTRUCTION
DAMAGE TO SYSTEMS: SEVERE; DATA: UNAVL
CMMND: FORCE-EXTRAPOLATION-- BOOTING CORRUPTED LOG…
**ALERT**ALERT**DECIBEL LVL-HIGH;HOSTILE PRESENCE(S)
!INTERACTION DECTECTED: HOSTILE-ENGAGED
**ALERT**ALERT**ARMOR PUNCTURE=CRITICAL;H.R.=SPIKE
B.P.=DROP-SEVERE;ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL}=UNAVL
RUN PROCESS: DETECT-ENOCHIAN;RESULT=FAIL
RUN PROCESS: DETECT-INTERFERENCE; RESULT=INTERFERENCE DETECTED
RESULT:ENOCHIAN{INTERNAL} DEPLETION AND INTERRUPTION--
****UNABLE-TO-RETRIEVE LOG. CMMND: TERMINATE****]
--
As Maki gasped, Glitch pushed herself through the comm-link for both Mavericks. “IllAd—Boss—CHUCK. Angel is in critical condition. Severe blood loss, fatal wound, no Enochian healing spike detected. Coordinates incoming. Report reading is bad, Chuck. I’ve got no visuals and the energy reading I have is murky at best. I can’t fully understand this one it’s familiar but—”
“It’s Nox.” Makarios interrupted. His heart was thrumming and he didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right. “And we need to be there now.”
--
“More intel: There are 2 unconscious hostiles, seemingly unconnected to the other 3. As well as one non-combatant. Their condition is unknown. First scan indicates the 2 unconscious hostile units are teched-out humans.”
Upon nearing, the two Mavericks would see the oldest Maverick slumped to his knees. The blood that covered them clearly his own, leading up to gaping hole in his chest. His eyes held that of shock, disbelief similar to his body as the Enochian genetics struggled to heal—his skin visibly pulsing to begin protecting and healing itself. Behind him, an unconscious woman lay on the ground. Glitch chimed in as Feral and IllAdvised descended on the scene:
“I’ve got rough metrics on the 3 hostiles. One is incapacitated or downed,” Glitch patched the report through to Chuck. Their speed and flight comparable to Angel, but less vector control and technique. Sinewy form, but capable of knocking back Angel so be advised.” She’d been able to gather intel from the initial cameras and satellite imagery over the area. Enhancing and homing in on data that would have taken 3 men 4 days to compile, Glitch completed the task in less than 90 seconds. “Local cameras were out due to them. They emit sonic screeches that seem to affect multiple frequencies. Their musculature and size betray a double-jointed flexibility. No visible ocular receptors, so field of vision is unknown. Talons in lieu of hands, capable of cutting concrete. There’s also a healing factor to consider.”
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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
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2 hrs ago
"C'mon y'all, let's get you back up on your feet."
The older blonde teen stuck out a hand towards the boy on the cold pavement who had begun gathering up his belongings. It wasn't surprising that the other high school seniors hadn't taken kindly to Chuck not only skipping a few grades, but also taking on the responsibility of grading their papers, and grading them lower than they'd like to see at that.
Resorting to physical violence was an unforeseen consequence, however. Chuck nursed a few bruised ribs before taking Thomas' hand as he was helped back to his feet. Chuck hadn't been paying attention when he exited the school, darkness crept in early this time of year and the football team had been hidden behind a pair of dumpsters waiting for the younger teen. Being unable to defend himself against their onslaught left a bad taste in Chuck's mouth, if Thomas hadn't stepped in when he had, Chuck no doubt would be looking up at the ceiling of an ambulance through eyes that had ought to been swollen shut. A couple of bruised ribs and a bruised ego seemed like a fair trade-off.
"I reckon that's the last time they'll try and hurt you," Thomas stated, cracking his knuckles. His naivety marked him as an outsider to New Lilith, his drawl was just icing on the cake.
"You're not from around here are you?" Chuck asked while adjusting his satchel and inspecting his camera for damage.
"Just transferred in actually, I'm from Longhorn. Thomas Campbell," The taller boy replied before extending his hand again.
Before IllAdvised had any opportunity to repeat Glitch's message, Feral was already on the move. Even with the urgency, the taller Maverick had all the grace of a gazelle, taking the lead while disappearing into the neon glow of New Lilith's night.
Nox.
The single word hung in the air. Despite everything IllAdvised had seen over the past decade, he still had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept of magic being real. A mystical energy force, moving through all living beings, divided into two different spectrums aptly named after the light and the dark.
Any mirth he had gained from Makarios' story was lost in the sudden turn of events. Arriving at the wharf, the youngest Maverick dismounted and immediately began scanning the scene. His keen mind quickly began putting together the best course of action. It had been years since Thomas had worn a suit made by Chuck. As Thomas grew both in his abilities and his confidence with them, he relied less and less on external weapons and armour and more on his own abilities. He was one of the strongest beings that Chuck knew of. At his peak, Thomas had been able to trade blows with Tony Cleaver, the Behemoth of the Lower East End, a Hyperhuman with near unrivalled strength.
At least until Thomas caught up.
To see Thomas now lying unconscious due to the severe trauma and bloodless was jarring. To see him wearing the Angel Mark Two suit was even more so. It was outdated technology, when Chuck had designed that, he was still wearing a cell phone strapped to his wrist and calling it cutting edge.
"Glitch! I need you to send the car, stat!" IllAdvised barked into his comm, his eyes watching the sky for further assailants. He moved quickly to Angel's side. Chuck had been patching the Mavericks up since they day they first stopped the Behemoth together, it had eventually even led him to his career. But Chuck had never once imagined that he'd be treating what should be a fatal wound for someone he would have once called a brother.
Kneeling on one knee, IllAdvised tossed the long leather coat open, revealing the armament beneath. Around his west and thighs were various belts, lined with module compartments, each housing various components. While the leader of the Mavericks was the physically least imposing of the original three, he was by far the most adaptable, both in his abilities and his equipment. Chuck had devised a system of modular components and weapons he could swap on the fly, everything on his person was compatible and solved various needs and problems. Larger compartments could be attached to his person to grant additional armour, others could be attached to transform his weapons from batons to a pair of tonfas or even a three-section staff.
Removing one such module from his thigh holster, IllAdvised placed it on Angel's chest as the unit deployed, sealing the wound and injecting Chuck's personal medicinal cocktail into Thomas' system to jumpstart the Enochian's healing factor.
IllAdvised turned to look at Feral.
"I can stabilize him enough to move him, but he's not going to make it if we don't get him to a hospital."
The older blonde teen stuck out a hand towards the boy on the cold pavement who had begun gathering up his belongings. It wasn't surprising that the other high school seniors hadn't taken kindly to Chuck not only skipping a few grades, but also taking on the responsibility of grading their papers, and grading them lower than they'd like to see at that.
Resorting to physical violence was an unforeseen consequence, however. Chuck nursed a few bruised ribs before taking Thomas' hand as he was helped back to his feet. Chuck hadn't been paying attention when he exited the school, darkness crept in early this time of year and the football team had been hidden behind a pair of dumpsters waiting for the younger teen. Being unable to defend himself against their onslaught left a bad taste in Chuck's mouth, if Thomas hadn't stepped in when he had, Chuck no doubt would be looking up at the ceiling of an ambulance through eyes that had ought to been swollen shut. A couple of bruised ribs and a bruised ego seemed like a fair trade-off.
"I reckon that's the last time they'll try and hurt you," Thomas stated, cracking his knuckles. His naivety marked him as an outsider to New Lilith, his drawl was just icing on the cake.
"You're not from around here are you?" Chuck asked while adjusting his satchel and inspecting his camera for damage.
"Just transferred in actually, I'm from Longhorn. Thomas Campbell," The taller boy replied before extending his hand again.
"Chuck."
Before IllAdvised had any opportunity to repeat Glitch's message, Feral was already on the move. Even with the urgency, the taller Maverick had all the grace of a gazelle, taking the lead while disappearing into the neon glow of New Lilith's night.
Nox.
The single word hung in the air. Despite everything IllAdvised had seen over the past decade, he still had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept of magic being real. A mystical energy force, moving through all living beings, divided into two different spectrums aptly named after the light and the dark.
| - Where had he heard that before? With a twist of his wrist, IllAdvised summoned his motorcycle on the busy street below. Leaping from his former perch, the Maverick indulged in the rush of brisk air, momentarily getting lost in the sensation of falling, the shock of the current situation overwhelming him. Before Chuck could respond, Glitch's safety measures kicked in, extending his underarm gliders and guiding him onto the back of the moving motorcycle. Chuck could feel his heart sinking as he weaved to and fro through the busy traffic lining New Lilith's streets. Any trace of hurt was gone, buried beneath a seething layer of anger. Thomas wasn't supposed to be out patrolling as Angel, he was supposed to be at home with Tiffany. Sam had even told Chuck that Thomas and Tiffany were expecting. He had sent a gift, a little onesie embroidered with the phrase 'Daddy is my Superhero.' Thomas was not supposed to be bleeding out on some wharf on the Lower East Side, he wasn't even supposed to be in the city. He was supposed to be safe. The data readout from the suit was running constantly along the right lens of IllAdvised's mask. His brow furrowed under the armoured ballcap that shielded his face which was completely concealed beneath a large hood. He wasn't near foolish enough to know that Maki couldn't sense his internal distress, but that didn't mean he needed the older Maverick to see it all over his face. |  _______________________________ |
At least until Thomas caught up.
To see Thomas now lying unconscious due to the severe trauma and bloodless was jarring. To see him wearing the Angel Mark Two suit was even more so. It was outdated technology, when Chuck had designed that, he was still wearing a cell phone strapped to his wrist and calling it cutting edge.
"Glitch! I need you to send the car, stat!" IllAdvised barked into his comm, his eyes watching the sky for further assailants. He moved quickly to Angel's side. Chuck had been patching the Mavericks up since they day they first stopped the Behemoth together, it had eventually even led him to his career. But Chuck had never once imagined that he'd be treating what should be a fatal wound for someone he would have once called a brother.
Kneeling on one knee, IllAdvised tossed the long leather coat open, revealing the armament beneath. Around his west and thighs were various belts, lined with module compartments, each housing various components. While the leader of the Mavericks was the physically least imposing of the original three, he was by far the most adaptable, both in his abilities and his equipment. Chuck had devised a system of modular components and weapons he could swap on the fly, everything on his person was compatible and solved various needs and problems. Larger compartments could be attached to his person to grant additional armour, others could be attached to transform his weapons from batons to a pair of tonfas or even a three-section staff.
Removing one such module from his thigh holster, IllAdvised placed it on Angel's chest as the unit deployed, sealing the wound and injecting Chuck's personal medicinal cocktail into Thomas' system to jumpstart the Enochian's healing factor.
IllAdvised turned to look at Feral.
"I can stabilize him enough to move him, but he's not going to make it if we don't get him to a hospital."
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Stein That's Queen Stein, thank you.
Member
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11 mos ago
Makarios leapt from the building.
Glitch hadn’t even given more intel, but it didn’t matter to Feral. The Maverick dove, finding his spot of emptiness. The breath of peace he tucked in a corner of his mind. Let it expand, envelop. Connect. As he fell, his eyes flashed – the Pact of the Kingdom answering him. This connection was easy because she’d been one of the first singularities to welcome him. Just as Feral’s body was about hit roof of the building below, the silhouette of bird wings expanded around him briefly, their swift unfurling producing a cushion wind and Nox. Maki vaulted from the cushion, his form becoming a blur as he sailed and jumped over the rooftops toward the wharf where Thomas was. But something more than Thomas being there scared him.
Something more vicious than primal urge – the chaos of the arcane. The surge of magic he’d felt, it wasn’t just that it was wrong in being unfamiliar. It felt like more than just magic, and that feeling burned, the mental equivalent of having spice stuck in the throat and flooding the sinuses. He could think of only one Magni who might know what this was. “Please. Anyone but him,” Feral whispered to himself.
As he neared, he caught the rest of Glitch’s intel and heard Ill’s bike rapidly approaching. Maki didn’t have time to process why Angel was even at the scene, nor why there was an apparent civilian. That feeling of magic was active, and the Kingdom inside of him reacted. Something profane was in the air—and it was coming from the figures lurking around Thomas.
The two Mavericks arrived on the scene simultaneously. Without words, both melded into their positions—Chuck making a beeline for Thomas and Feral primed for the assailants. He felt a surge wash through him again, the worst timing for the Whim of the Kingdom. This was the part of his Pact that the Kingdom dictated: Communion with any spirit within him. He could have no say, only faith.
One of the aberrant figures, dwarfing even Thomas in height, reared as IllAdvised slid toward Angel. Its talons flexed and swiped down at the Maverick leader. The feeling of energy rose through Feral, popping through the pores of his hand. The talons of the aberrant stopped inches from Chuck’s head, as a glowing purple form of a giant snake extended from Makarios’ hand and constricted the aberrant being.
He’d gotten lucky! He knew Yala, had rested in her den before. She wasn’t entirely formed on this plane, appearing as just a construct of Feral’s Nox. However, even this form was larger than the aberrant and coiled around, restraining it.
The second aberrant charged head-first as Feral took his stance. Feral unsheathed his knobkerrie club faster than a normal eye could comprehend. With an upswing of the ball-side of the club, Feral stunned the creature with a singular strike to its chin. It dropped, twitching.
A roar pierced his sentence, reverberating throughout the silent wharf as the third aberrant creature howled. Maki chucked his club, the weight balanced perfectly. It was made of the strongest wood in Africa and pressure treated with Nox. It’s angled edge was fused with a strong metal alloy. After deducing that these creatures were the source of the odd magic he felt, Maki was certain his club’s ability to sap magic would come in handy. Unfortunately, the club struck the creature and rebounded, flying back into Feral’s hand. ‘Did it just—reject it!? How…?’
"I can stabilize him enough to move him, but he's not going to make it if we don't get him to a hospital."
The Maverick leader’s announcement tickled something in Feral’s mind. On instinct, he let his sense of Nox expand to Thomas and felt a slice of pain that made him recoil. He was right.
“Bad news, hun: these guys are tougher than it seems and we can’t leave her.” His eyes flashed to the civilian, “And if we want to make it worse— his wound is cursed, and that’s out of my wheelhouse. And the worst news—“ A lunge from the creature narrowly avoided by Feral interrupted him. The Maverick spun his feet in a half-moon arc, bring the ball-end of the club down on the creature’s head. The Nox-fueled hit brought down with such force, a small crack was left in the crater.
“Like I was saying, worst news: I think I know the guy who has the knowledge to remove it…” He surveyed the wharf in this brief pause. He saw his brother bleeding out, and vengeance clawed at the base of his mind, but—“And making sure he’s okay is more important than them. Yala’s got this one pinned, but I don’t think we’ve got long for the others. If they don’t have eyes, is it safe to assume sound or smell navigation?”
As he spoke, a series of bones popping and cracking echoed. The creatures were twitching on the ground, coming to and starting to re-orient. “Shit, we need to know what happened...Fine! I’ll call him.” Makarios rolled his eyes and reached into the pouch tucked into the armor above the small of his back. He produced two items, a small conch shell and a quill pen tip. He crushed the shell in his palm and spoke into the dispersing dust. “I need you. Go to where I left you with the tab.” The quill tip he jabbed into his finger before tossing it into the puddle of Thomas’ blood. The quill pen pulsed and leaked a pool of ink that shifted into series of runes and spread over the area in a perfect 10 x 10 square before pulsing a soft gold light and disappearing.
He looked at Chuck again, ”Can you create an opening? I can hold it and meet you at our usual med location.”
Glitch hadn’t even given more intel, but it didn’t matter to Feral. The Maverick dove, finding his spot of emptiness. The breath of peace he tucked in a corner of his mind. Let it expand, envelop. Connect. As he fell, his eyes flashed – the Pact of the Kingdom answering him. This connection was easy because she’d been one of the first singularities to welcome him. Just as Feral’s body was about hit roof of the building below, the silhouette of bird wings expanded around him briefly, their swift unfurling producing a cushion wind and Nox. Maki vaulted from the cushion, his form becoming a blur as he sailed and jumped over the rooftops toward the wharf where Thomas was. But something more than Thomas being there scared him.
Something more vicious than primal urge – the chaos of the arcane. The surge of magic he’d felt, it wasn’t just that it was wrong in being unfamiliar. It felt like more than just magic, and that feeling burned, the mental equivalent of having spice stuck in the throat and flooding the sinuses. He could think of only one Magni who might know what this was. “Please. Anyone but him,” Feral whispered to himself.
As he neared, he caught the rest of Glitch’s intel and heard Ill’s bike rapidly approaching. Maki didn’t have time to process why Angel was even at the scene, nor why there was an apparent civilian. That feeling of magic was active, and the Kingdom inside of him reacted. Something profane was in the air—and it was coming from the figures lurking around Thomas.
The two Mavericks arrived on the scene simultaneously. Without words, both melded into their positions—Chuck making a beeline for Thomas and Feral primed for the assailants. He felt a surge wash through him again, the worst timing for the Whim of the Kingdom. This was the part of his Pact that the Kingdom dictated: Communion with any spirit within him. He could have no say, only faith.
One of the aberrant figures, dwarfing even Thomas in height, reared as IllAdvised slid toward Angel. Its talons flexed and swiped down at the Maverick leader. The feeling of energy rose through Feral, popping through the pores of his hand. The talons of the aberrant stopped inches from Chuck’s head, as a glowing purple form of a giant snake extended from Makarios’ hand and constricted the aberrant being.
He’d gotten lucky! He knew Yala, had rested in her den before. She wasn’t entirely formed on this plane, appearing as just a construct of Feral’s Nox. However, even this form was larger than the aberrant and coiled around, restraining it.
The second aberrant charged head-first as Feral took his stance. Feral unsheathed his knobkerrie club faster than a normal eye could comprehend. With an upswing of the ball-side of the club, Feral stunned the creature with a singular strike to its chin. It dropped, twitching.
A roar pierced his sentence, reverberating throughout the silent wharf as the third aberrant creature howled. Maki chucked his club, the weight balanced perfectly. It was made of the strongest wood in Africa and pressure treated with Nox. It’s angled edge was fused with a strong metal alloy. After deducing that these creatures were the source of the odd magic he felt, Maki was certain his club’s ability to sap magic would come in handy. Unfortunately, the club struck the creature and rebounded, flying back into Feral’s hand. ‘Did it just—reject it!? How…?’
"I can stabilize him enough to move him, but he's not going to make it if we don't get him to a hospital."
The Maverick leader’s announcement tickled something in Feral’s mind. On instinct, he let his sense of Nox expand to Thomas and felt a slice of pain that made him recoil. He was right.
“Bad news, hun: these guys are tougher than it seems and we can’t leave her.” His eyes flashed to the civilian, “And if we want to make it worse— his wound is cursed, and that’s out of my wheelhouse. And the worst news—“ A lunge from the creature narrowly avoided by Feral interrupted him. The Maverick spun his feet in a half-moon arc, bring the ball-end of the club down on the creature’s head. The Nox-fueled hit brought down with such force, a small crack was left in the crater.
“Like I was saying, worst news: I think I know the guy who has the knowledge to remove it…” He surveyed the wharf in this brief pause. He saw his brother bleeding out, and vengeance clawed at the base of his mind, but—“And making sure he’s okay is more important than them. Yala’s got this one pinned, but I don’t think we’ve got long for the others. If they don’t have eyes, is it safe to assume sound or smell navigation?”
As he spoke, a series of bones popping and cracking echoed. The creatures were twitching on the ground, coming to and starting to re-orient. “Shit, we need to know what happened...Fine! I’ll call him.” Makarios rolled his eyes and reached into the pouch tucked into the armor above the small of his back. He produced two items, a small conch shell and a quill pen tip. He crushed the shell in his palm and spoke into the dispersing dust. “I need you. Go to where I left you with the tab.” The quill tip he jabbed into his finger before tossing it into the puddle of Thomas’ blood. The quill pen pulsed and leaked a pool of ink that shifted into series of runes and spread over the area in a perfect 10 x 10 square before pulsing a soft gold light and disappearing.
He looked at Chuck again, ”Can you create an opening? I can hold it and meet you at our usual med location.”
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Stein That's Queen Stein, thank you.
Member
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11 mos ago
Meanwhile:
Across the country map, in a San Francisco alley, Alex Dozer wasn’t really looking for a fight. He’d moved to the city to escape that Midwest rage. And normally, living his more honest life, he could manage it. But the fucker in front of him was just begging to bring it to the surface again. It was one of those typical SF nights, where the wind carries the chill from the coast with a bite as it travels through the slopes of the city. But even wearing only a leather harness and some Levi’s, the cold didn’t register for him. Alex was a fit guy, barrel-chested and imposing, but the disheveled guy in front of him barely seemed to register his presence—even with Alex’s arm pinning him to the wall.
“Asshole, are you even listening?” Alex demanded. The man just lolled his head up toward the sky, as if he were looking for stars that weren’t there. Like he was wishing to be anywhere else. Which pissed Alex off more. “Hey!” Alex gave the man a quick slap to the cheek. “Are you fucking tweaked?”
“Look,” the man responded with a slight English accent, still not looking at Alex, “I’m just standing here waiting for my ride, yeah? A little preoccupied right now.”
“Yeah? Like you were when you were tongue deep in my fiancé in the bar?”
The man rolled his eyes, and Alex resisted the urge to throw a punch. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? And I wasn’t tongue-deep, I didn’t even get to the kiss before she said she had a fiancé. But you’re right, I saw her ring and still—”
“What? No, I’m not engaged to a woman, I—”
“Oh! The one with the eyebrow piercing?” the man laughed and shrugged, “She should have been here by now. He wasn’t wearing a ring, we had a lovely conversation about the weather in your city here. Nights like these with the chill and clouds –almost like there could be a fog or something else expected…but I digress. Then he bought me a drink.” The man shrugged out of Alex’s hold. He looked to the sky once more, puzzled, before looking at Alex with a raised eyebrow “I could show you what all the hype is about, so you know it’s nothing personal.” There was a gust of wind. “Where the hell is sh— "
The man’s words were cut as Alex swung, rage bubbling just over its brim, and connected with the drunk mans cheek. The slug was more push than force, but it had the necessary effect. “You’re fucking disgusting and drunk, bitch.”
The alley now seemed a bit mistier. Almost as if the fog from the Bay was already coming in.
For the first time, the man seemed in front of Alex completely aware of his surroundings. And Alex thought maybe the light was tricking him, because the man’s dull brown eyes now seemed silver. “And you’re lucky, love. The last man who sucker punched me like that got to meet the greatest invention the French ever made. That one was free.”
Alex had met suave guys like this one. They were all talk, and maybe knew how to scrap. But Alex didn’t have a gym body. His bulk came from chucking farm work and tough winters working at home and a side job. “No, that one was just the beginning. I’m sick of fucks like you trying to claim whatever they want. Because they never had to struggle or learn from a mistake.”
A sneer crept up the man’s face. Alex had struck a nerve. “High assumptions from a wet-eared babe. You aiming to be the one to try and teach me a lesson? I got some time to give you some much needed attention, love.”
“The hell you do, oldhead.” A new voice spoke, from seemingly nowhere.
What happened next, Alex didn’t bother trying to explain to his fiancé afterward. The mist from the Bay started to catch the light, as if it were sparkling in the dim-lit alley. The man rolled his eyes, “Oh, bloody—finally.”
The sparkling mist thickened into a smoke before Alex. He felt his heart quicken and instinctively began to reach for his inhaler. A fire? Where? How—but it before he could settle on which question, a greater question arose. Was this smoke starting to gather into the form of a person?
“’Finally?’ Boy, don’t even start with me. Yo ass playin in a bar when I told you damn well to stay outside to make this test-run easier.” This wasn’t…how? Why was that man talking to smoke? Alex’s thoughts swam before his vision followed and he felt a rush of falling to the hard pavement.
The drunk man, still in conversation— “It was cold out, Nals,”-- snapped his fingers. Alex didn’t feel himself hit the ground. Instead it was a firm yet pliable surface that caught him. He looked down to what could only be described as large gelatinous cube, pulsing with blue light. “And you know what the cold does to me…it makes my nipples hard.”
“…I will beat you with my grandaddy’s cane, you keep playing the way you do. Now c’mon, ‘fore you make a fool of yourself again. Which you can’t seem to stop doing today. First the Archaic Gem. Then you insulted my Auntie, which she won’t shut up about how you—”
“Yes, yes, yes. I’m terrible. Off now, before the beefy bear decides to come to.
The last thing Alex saw was them walking into what looked like a plume of darkness and smoke, before he felt himself sink to the concrete and black out.
--
“—so you better have an apology for her if you ever want a pot of Gumbo again,”
“Nals” Nahlia continued, returning to her normal form as she walked through the portal into the arcane study she’d just left. She’d left the window open and could smell the thick earthiness of Louisianna air.
“Now hold on, I think that’s a little rash. I only meant—”
“Mmmmhm. Now he wanna be concerned. And another thing, another reason it took me so long,” She picked up a set of weathered scrolls and a notepad of translations, “is because your translation of your own scrolls is incorrect. The first ley line for the prep rune needs to carry a hail of transport, not one of beseeching. Which is why the central conduit wouldn’t respond to my—are you even listening??”
Nahlia threw a pen at her mentor. Without a movement from him, the pen was enveloped in a glowing cube of magical energy, halted in the air. But he was pressing a finger to his forehead, brow furrowed.
“…Sarks?”
The Magni master looked up at her and smiled, “Oh sorry, love. Yes, I’m absolutely splendid.” While she’d been speaking, Sarks had felt a vibration in his neck followed by a tinkling of a conch breaking. He knew that sound, a summons token only held by three people in the world currently. One of them was off-world. And the other was in this room. It could only be one person.
“I need you. Go to where I left you with the tab.” There it was. That sly little hero.
He turned on his heel and walked to a wall in the study that was filled with magical relics. “Change of plans, Nals. Let’s put a pause on our test runs. We’ve got a guest appearance to make for a man who wants me so bad he hates me.”
He took a skeleton key from the shelf and turned off a lamp next to it. Sticking the key in the shadow, he pulled it back and took a step back as a door of redwood oak expanded in front of him.
“Come now, Nals. After you.”
GM
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
Member
Seen
2 hrs ago
"I hate magic."
IllAdvised didn't have much time to dwell on his feelings at the moment, Thomas was injured, far beyond his capabilities and as Feral had correctly pointed out, there was the civilian to consider too. Priority was her safety, then came figuring out how she factored into Thomas' spontaneous exit from retirement and how these creatures were related. Then would come the where, the why and-
"Can you create an opening? I can hold it and meet you at our usual med location."
IllAdvised nodded solemnly, snapping back to the moment at hand while eying the creatures as they began to stand. Extending his right hand, IllAdvised's weapon of choice flew to his hand, each piece of the three section staff moving independently through the air before assembling in the Maverick leader's waiting grip — a theatrical display showcasing the gadgetry genius at work in IllAdvised's ensemble. The end of the staff crackled to life with fifty thousand volts ready to be deployed defensively against their xenomorphic foes.
Lunging into action, the Maverick leader used the staff to vault over the first creature, recoiling the weapon midair, before twisting about and arching the magnetically bonded sections in a stunning attack. The satisfying pop and crackle of the taser-loaded end making contact exploded through the rainy New Lilith night. But as IllAdvised landed, he only came face to face with a pissed-off eyeless creature.
...If they don’t have eyes, is it safe to assume sound or smell navigation?
Makarios' earlier words echoed through IllAdvised mind as he crossed his weapon over his chest, just barely keeping the razor-sharp talons from piercing the layered armour covering his chest. If these things could shred Thomas like hot butter, then Chuck had no intention of finding out what happened when they went through him.
"Feral, remember what you said earlier about sound?" IllAdvised grunted through gritted teeth before tossing the talons to the side and sliding through the creature's staggered legs.
"I love a good theory," IllAdvised replied with a glib growl. "Let's put it to the test, Glitch; same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel please."
As the Maverick's earpieces switched to a noise-cancelling frequency, IllAdvised avoided a swipe from one of the creatures, his feet careening through the air into a double backflip. Producing several small gadgets from his belt, IllAdvised continued to dodge, working his feet independently of his hands while they mixed the modules to create a new device.
With a twist of his armoured hand, the device came to life, emitting a piercing wail that would deafen anyone not using similar noise-cancelling devices. From the nearby Lower East End came the chorus of howling dogs as the creatures screeched their own agony.
Sliding towards the civilian, IllAdvised quickly pried her hands away from her head, placing a set of earpieces on either side of her head. A small glimmer of relief washed over her face as the noise-based attack was silenced.
The sonic assault might have slowed the creatures, but it didn't stop them. Disorientated and clearly in pain, they began lashing about haphazardly, doing anything they could to hit either Maverick, the girl or finish Thomas off. The familiar rumble of an illegally modified engine shook the ground beneath IllAdvised as his stallion thundered their rescue. Engaging the remote controls on his gauntlet, IllAdvised twisted his wrist to fire the car's afterburners, launching it through the air. Nearly one tonne of steel and rubber collided with the first creature, sending it toppling over the dock and into the New Lilith Bay.
The Maverickmobile deployed its evasive maneuvering thrusters and airbrakes in combination, skidding to a stop dangerously close to the edge of the dock before rapidly reversing towards the girl and IllAdvised. But it wasn't going to be enough to stop the second creature from descending upon the Maverick and civilian. Flaring his nostrils beneath the crimson mask, Chuck took a deep breath, thinking back to his training with Makarios, feeling his emotions and summoning the familiar anger. It was easy when one of his best friends was clinging to life, easy to recall the unbridled rage that the Mavericks faced on their first outing together. The strength that made pulling a bank vault door from its hinges look as easy as tearing a piece of paper.
Pulling back, IllAdvised released his arm, letting out the first strike. His hand collided hard with the creature, not with Tony's strength but rather a resounding pop, even louder than earlier, as the air was suddenly superheated by nearly ten million volts. The anger Chuck had tapped into was not the empathetic memory he had felt from the Behemoth, but rather Allison's unbridled rage.
His wrist crumbled under the reinforced hide of the creature, the suit's HUD lighting up like the fourth of July as countermeasures quickly applied pressure to the break, securing it in place while Chuck reeled under his mask from the pain.
"Car." He hissed to the girl as the door of the black vehicle opened. "Now."
Fear had held the girl in place until now, but she was able to understand that one simple request as she clambered into the backseat while Makarios loaded Thomas in beside her. Once the other Maverick was inside, the car spun around, allowing IllAdvised the opportunity to climb inside just in time to see the first creature emerging from the water.
"Glitch," IllAdvised commanded as the seatbelts wrapped themselves around the two occupants.
"Punch it."
IllAdvised didn't have much time to dwell on his feelings at the moment, Thomas was injured, far beyond his capabilities and as Feral had correctly pointed out, there was the civilian to consider too. Priority was her safety, then came figuring out how she factored into Thomas' spontaneous exit from retirement and how these creatures were related. Then would come the where, the why and-
"Can you create an opening? I can hold it and meet you at our usual med location."
IllAdvised nodded solemnly, snapping back to the moment at hand while eying the creatures as they began to stand. Extending his right hand, IllAdvised's weapon of choice flew to his hand, each piece of the three section staff moving independently through the air before assembling in the Maverick leader's waiting grip — a theatrical display showcasing the gadgetry genius at work in IllAdvised's ensemble. The end of the staff crackled to life with fifty thousand volts ready to be deployed defensively against their xenomorphic foes.
Lunging into action, the Maverick leader used the staff to vault over the first creature, recoiling the weapon midair, before twisting about and arching the magnetically bonded sections in a stunning attack. The satisfying pop and crackle of the taser-loaded end making contact exploded through the rainy New Lilith night. But as IllAdvised landed, he only came face to face with a pissed-off eyeless creature.
...If they don’t have eyes, is it safe to assume sound or smell navigation?
Makarios' earlier words echoed through IllAdvised mind as he crossed his weapon over his chest, just barely keeping the razor-sharp talons from piercing the layered armour covering his chest. If these things could shred Thomas like hot butter, then Chuck had no intention of finding out what happened when they went through him.
"Feral, remember what you said earlier about sound?" IllAdvised grunted through gritted teeth before tossing the talons to the side and sliding through the creature's staggered legs.
"I love a good theory," IllAdvised replied with a glib growl. "Let's put it to the test, Glitch; same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel please."
As the Maverick's earpieces switched to a noise-cancelling frequency, IllAdvised avoided a swipe from one of the creatures, his feet careening through the air into a double backflip. Producing several small gadgets from his belt, IllAdvised continued to dodge, working his feet independently of his hands while they mixed the modules to create a new device.
With a twist of his armoured hand, the device came to life, emitting a piercing wail that would deafen anyone not using similar noise-cancelling devices. From the nearby Lower East End came the chorus of howling dogs as the creatures screeched their own agony.
Sliding towards the civilian, IllAdvised quickly pried her hands away from her head, placing a set of earpieces on either side of her head. A small glimmer of relief washed over her face as the noise-based attack was silenced.
The sonic assault might have slowed the creatures, but it didn't stop them. Disorientated and clearly in pain, they began lashing about haphazardly, doing anything they could to hit either Maverick, the girl or finish Thomas off. The familiar rumble of an illegally modified engine shook the ground beneath IllAdvised as his stallion thundered their rescue. Engaging the remote controls on his gauntlet, IllAdvised twisted his wrist to fire the car's afterburners, launching it through the air. Nearly one tonne of steel and rubber collided with the first creature, sending it toppling over the dock and into the New Lilith Bay.
The Maverickmobile deployed its evasive maneuvering thrusters and airbrakes in combination, skidding to a stop dangerously close to the edge of the dock before rapidly reversing towards the girl and IllAdvised. But it wasn't going to be enough to stop the second creature from descending upon the Maverick and civilian. Flaring his nostrils beneath the crimson mask, Chuck took a deep breath, thinking back to his training with Makarios, feeling his emotions and summoning the familiar anger. It was easy when one of his best friends was clinging to life, easy to recall the unbridled rage that the Mavericks faced on their first outing together. The strength that made pulling a bank vault door from its hinges look as easy as tearing a piece of paper.
Pulling back, IllAdvised released his arm, letting out the first strike. His hand collided hard with the creature, not with Tony's strength but rather a resounding pop, even louder than earlier, as the air was suddenly superheated by nearly ten million volts. The anger Chuck had tapped into was not the empathetic memory he had felt from the Behemoth, but rather Allison's unbridled rage.
His wrist crumbled under the reinforced hide of the creature, the suit's HUD lighting up like the fourth of July as countermeasures quickly applied pressure to the break, securing it in place while Chuck reeled under his mask from the pain.
"Car." He hissed to the girl as the door of the black vehicle opened. "Now."
Fear had held the girl in place until now, but she was able to understand that one simple request as she clambered into the backseat while Makarios loaded Thomas in beside her. Once the other Maverick was inside, the car spun around, allowing IllAdvised the opportunity to climb inside just in time to see the first creature emerging from the water.
"Glitch," IllAdvised commanded as the seatbelts wrapped themselves around the two occupants.
"Punch it."
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GM
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
Member
Seen
2 hrs ago
The next couple of minutes were spent in silence.
Outside the nearly black car, the neon glow of New Lilith went by in a blur as Glitch weaved the vehicle in and out of traffic, taking the three Mavericks and their passenger towards Little Santiago clinic that they had always used for situations such as this. From the driver's seat, Chuck watched the girl in the back, her eyes wide and terrified, Thomas slumped over on the backseat beside her. In the front of the car, Makarios stared ahead, words weren't needed between Maki and Chuck, they knew exactly what needed to happen.
Save Thomas.
Rain hell.
Leaving the Lower East Side behind, the car entered into a new borough of New Lilith as the crumbling architecture faded away, faces of brick and wood siding replaced with stucco walls outside of Baroque and Colonial exteriors. Little Santiago was one of the most colourful districts in New Lilith. Rich in culture, it had seemingly escaped gentrification and managed to retain its identity despite originally being considered a poor district.
It was also home to Sanctuary, a clinic run out of an abandoned church that didn't ask questions or for insurance. Chuck had discovered the first night he was shot and it became the Maverick's go-to patch shop. Throughout university, Chuck had volunteered at Sanctuary, working pro-bono and honing his medical knowledge and skills, going on to patch the Mavericks up himself. It also helped that Sanctuary shared a wall with Tortuga, a dingy hole in the wall bar built out of the remains of the church's manse.
It was home to some of the best Jerk Chicken on the entire East Coast.
"We're here," Chuck stated, breaking the long silence before looking through the windshield for any signs of life while Glitch pulled the car around back into their usual spot. He cradled his broken wrist against his torso, wincing before turning toward Makarios. Looking back at their two passengers, Chuck continued to speak.
"Where is your contact?"
Outside the nearly black car, the neon glow of New Lilith went by in a blur as Glitch weaved the vehicle in and out of traffic, taking the three Mavericks and their passenger towards Little Santiago clinic that they had always used for situations such as this. From the driver's seat, Chuck watched the girl in the back, her eyes wide and terrified, Thomas slumped over on the backseat beside her. In the front of the car, Makarios stared ahead, words weren't needed between Maki and Chuck, they knew exactly what needed to happen.
Save Thomas.
Rain hell.
Leaving the Lower East Side behind, the car entered into a new borough of New Lilith as the crumbling architecture faded away, faces of brick and wood siding replaced with stucco walls outside of Baroque and Colonial exteriors. Little Santiago was one of the most colourful districts in New Lilith. Rich in culture, it had seemingly escaped gentrification and managed to retain its identity despite originally being considered a poor district.
It was also home to Sanctuary, a clinic run out of an abandoned church that didn't ask questions or for insurance. Chuck had discovered the first night he was shot and it became the Maverick's go-to patch shop. Throughout university, Chuck had volunteered at Sanctuary, working pro-bono and honing his medical knowledge and skills, going on to patch the Mavericks up himself. It also helped that Sanctuary shared a wall with Tortuga, a dingy hole in the wall bar built out of the remains of the church's manse.
It was home to some of the best Jerk Chicken on the entire East Coast.
"We're here," Chuck stated, breaking the long silence before looking through the windshield for any signs of life while Glitch pulled the car around back into their usual spot. He cradled his broken wrist against his torso, wincing before turning toward Makarios. Looking back at their two passengers, Chuck continued to speak.
"Where is your contact?"
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