L0nginus

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

The song of nature, the endless, blissful chattering of Creation. Oh, how it all crowed in Senko's ear; how their beauty warmed her soul in the execution of those.. tresspassers. For every advantage they had, for all the machinations of industry, none could compare to the simple purity of this forest, of its creatures. They whispered to her, cried out in clarion calls to inform of their misdeeds, and it was all.. so.. loud. How disturbing then was it to her when their greetings died in their throats, when the nymphs playing in the wind lost their muse and became lonesome whistles, when the articulate deers and birds and insects became baying animals? When the world she saw became a hazy husk, as the flame which sought to consume Totsuka's mind came for her first. She hadn't seen it coming, the scourge. The hollow echoes of creativity wrought from a man whose humanity was scooped out with a shovel, and buried a thousand miles deep. Her ESP was burned out with the kind of psychic agony that could only be described by having a needle inserted into your frontal lobe, twisted and pulled in and out like some kind of profane plunger. She was the filter. Now, she had become the victim. Shortly thereafter, the roar of armor-piercing munitions clatter off, punctuating her feeling of invincibility with three puncture holes in her auric field, followed by the screeching symphony of his mindfire infesting the points of impact. His bullets left three gaping holes in Senko; two bleeding pockets in the chest, and one center of her forehead. It wasn't in him to wonder if she'd live past her summary execution, the mutation of his energy and the world-chi infusing her would poison her soul, and rot her flesh ever faster. It was a punishment for her presumptuousness, thinking she'd be spared the rod and dodge something with sight she could no longer have.

Akane boxed with the sunlight to his sun, swinging at his radiance but never quite reaching the thing which produced it. She confused the light for the star, and found that she wasn't chasing shadows, but her own tail. Akane blocked him off at the boundary line between the artery and the tangible form of this verdant land, she had halted his progress with the tranquil wall of darkness she produced, and sought to banish the outpour of his energy. There was one problem. Her Dark Chi had the blessings of this land through Senko. The parts of her energy which contacted with his contorted and quivered as his energy and the natural power of this forest melded together immutably into a blight of the spirit, a toxin which dwindles the soul into a wasting corpse. Neither chi nor psychic energy, both had ceased to be and so became something distinct from the summation of its parts. This blight, in combination with the explosive and scorching principles of his energy, killed the curse which came to pass, either by riding one of the divergent streams of his violent emanation, or simply by having been killed off in the main generation of Akane's defensive wall. In that same measure, he faced down the eruptive force of the potentially still living Senko. They had spent their enhanced reserves into multiple different things, but with Reyes' own enhanced production of power put toward one single thing, even though it was an area of effect, the consolidation of power was much higher by comparison. He pushed back with the expulsion of his energy, overwhelming and poisoning that jettison of spiritual power into a downward implosion that served to crash into Akane's defensive fortress— threatening to burst wide the gates to the blessed leyline.

The outward expulsion of Jackson's thoughtforms twists the saturated space into an irreconcilable mess. It began as a mere 20 feet, but the twisting of natural energy on the surface area polluted the natural beauty of this place greviously. His prowess pushed that corruption away from Agent Reyes, distributing it at a rather slow moving rate, but one that eagerly turned trees to withered dregs and inspired the beasts of this land to bleed from every orifice. If Akane's lightning bull, if the additional layer of projectiles and the shadow of Senko's chi touched it, they'd end up deteriorating before even having the good sense to be destroyed at the touch of Reyes' energy. But, this same development offered its own brand of evil. The attractive quality of Hayden's Moonlight Plasma drew in the poison toward it, bringing about a marriage of death and destruction.

Reyes completed his evasive manuevering and looked off in the direction of the male Ryuusei's position after he had taken cover from the shot fired in his direction. Jackson fired another shot at him for good measure, directing his bullet to go right through the tree and peg him on the throat, entertwined with an accelerant of psionic potential in the same trigger pull. A second one aimed for Akane's head as she aimed at Donny.

Icy Enmity: Battle in Oerelle's Halls - Alucroas vs Longinus

Shadow of Intent

The woman's feet tap against the harshness of frost-laden stone in jolting hops, careening about the pale oblivion. Her joints crackle, muscle fibers crawling beneath the smooth veneer of her bronzed skin like so many ants. They snapped back into order— the sweet agony of her false flesh mirrored in the excited crooning of her doppelgangers. They, like her, were all of the Deceit; the first Lie spoken by their then pure Father, Pride. Multiversal copy-pasting or not. It was in the darkest aspirations of the creature's nature to mislead and cajole the unaware, and it was in that unempathetic string of 1s and 0s that her song reached the ears of the Dracomachines. The information they recieved changed subtly, their equations skewed. After all, in studying the demon, they opened themselvds up to its Daemon, for it was the information itself, in the same way it was the mind-ghost that Zucroas' psyche projected in an attempt to understand and defend against mindfire.

The DMs in that same way did their jobs a little.. too well. Whether or not the mist remained as blood was irrelevant, for the red mist was always meant to be destroyed in the end. The accelerated process fed the force of their harmonics into the haze, before the inevitable change dried up the wells of potentiality. The sheer amounts of energy offloaded onto the mass of the mist was enough to obliterate its fermions— its elementary particles. From that reaction spewed a shower of color, bleaching all it came into contact with a state of becoming inert. No possibility to move, no possibility to function. No possibility to exist. Zucroas' Dracomachines fell prey to this first, being in the immediate blast radius and acting as a buffer for the worst of it, before inevitably succumbing to the glorious radiance of his falsified antithesis. A kind of Order, if it were that, which should not be. The blasphemous touch of an endless falsehood bleached the Dragon in the loss of several variables, chief among which: the capability of Zucroas' vessel to utilize ESP (ExtraSensory Perception). That same light rode the currents of the Kintars' voices, using the sonic frequencies as a means to proliferate and infest the space in arcing bands of light. Where their rays touched, brief instances of the environ overlapped with this one; leaving brief impressions of a case where the stage was bathed in lava, or one where men were imprisoned beneath frozen cradles. The end result was a blighted gateway upon the mirror-worlds that the other Kintars fell in from, growing drastically more numerous by the moment with each shattered mirror. After all, what did breaking glass do except make more mirrors? Her doppelgangers fell in corpse-maiden rain, bridging their inherent qualities with the Primus. So many different, other Hells to intermingle with her own in a fibrous mesh of darkness, compressing and expanding like the breath of a living thing. Their bodies smashed into icy rock and impaled themselves upon trees, but all brandished the same golden blades before each sword promptly vanished, even the ones Zucroas would of originally ricocheted off into other realities. There was brief silence, save for perhaps the odious snarls Zucroas took, before the screaming warp of super dense matter blades reentered the space a moment later. They crumpled spacetime like so much paper machè, owed in part to Zucroas amplifying their gravitic fields, and the rest in their rapid asexual procreation. A thorny, adamantine wall rested squarely a foot away from the dragon, and rushed to meet him at the natural speed of lightning; scraping the floor, walls and ceilings as the environ distorted into an indistinct haze, leaning far too close toward the swords. In that same way, the barrier Zucroas erected to constrain Oblivion was yanked away, for even non-physically aspected forces were leashed into the threat. Perhaps Kintar's saving grace here was the capability to evade the threat by standing at the boundary between living and dead.

The mental realm is a place of metaphor. Often times things that appear plainly obvious aren't always so, and precious little was ever made simple. It was a place of loaded sentimentality, especially within a world of one's own making. After all, who would dare ascribe wrath to a man on a mission to save his brothers?! Every father trying to save his daughters from bad men making big mistakes inside of them. Every jilted lover seeing their beloved in the arms of another. Every cornered animal. Why was Zucroas lying to himself? In what comfort did he seek in this falsehood of absolution from his own anger? His own hatred? The truth was, there could be no salvation. No forgiveness. Not in front of this Dajjal. Zucroas dragged down the sky, submerged light within darkness, and reconciled the illogic of heaven being folded over the sea with the might of his mind palace. But it was all for naught. The creature had already escaped into his nervous system, for this act of seld-deception had already cost him. He felt his body refuse to respond to his commands for that brief instant, before impact was assured.

Now the question was: would it cost him everything?

Icy Enmity: Battle in Oerelle's Halls - Alucroas vs Longinus

Pray II

Zucroas leapt back from her sanguine elixir, moving with such force, such aggression, that the countless reflections of the tangible woman before him couldn’t help but swoon in unison.. though, she made no such gestures. How could she, bleeding out as she was, right before his eyes? His breath's radiance bleached the room in a stark, bone white— juxtaposing against the ever deepening abyss of Oblivion's maw, leaving it to be cast across the forum like the bleak, open wound upon the borders of life and death that it truly was. An umbral scar upon the corridors of this palace. The woman twitched, but for as inrealistic as it were, that was somehow enough for her to build sufficient momentum to send herself tumbling to her right; narrowly avoiding the cosmically-charged electron beam, as its fury discharged into the pool of blood around her— leaving both a harrowing red mist and the mirror like viscera pond yo race with bands of his power. However, he rushed in soon after, led in with his sheer bloodlust. The lightning, however, would never reach her. Not before he did, at least, though it was trapped in a closed-circuit loop around her; the ionized gore storing far more energy than feasibly possible, with impossibly complex matrices of covalent bonds that wove his fury into tangible, material form. Stagnant, isolated. Usable. Lending to itself more mass This led them to the crux of the oncoming storm of violence. He charged at her, through the gap. He fell headlong through the crimson fog, bringing all he had to bear, before the river of scarlet dried up like the Euphrates. Converted into theoretical, potential value— a veritable slew of horror that converged upon the energy quotient of the blood mist the instant it occurred, which was upon contact. Zucroas' death knell sang with the rupturing of countless fermions into a counterfeiture of celestial light. The distended vomit of Creation— otherwise known as reality cancer, and threatened to baptize him in the collapsing of countless possibilities into a single inevitability.

"How unfortunate," the chorus sang, coming from every direction save for her own lips. No, they hung agape, drooling in debased ecstasy, her eyes emptily taking in the sight of Zucroas' silhouette through the implosion. Her joints crunched and snapped wetly as she disobeyed the conventions anatomy demands; hoisting herself to a half-stand as her knees rotated in the opposite direction to pivot upright. The false halo hovering above the woman's head had since ceased being an addition to her garment, and unfurled into a collection of 6 golden blades of various western ethnic style. The Swords of Hekate. Those blades, fashioned of a metal with the density of neutron star matter with a quarter the weight, they thrusted forward upon their own initiative to bury themselves into his skull, save for 2 which made to run through his traps to dismember Zucroas adjacent to the shoulders all the way down through the ribs. The woman leapt back, evidently unbothered by the incorrectness of her legs, like the vectors of her motion were moving in Kintar's stead. In that same illogical way, the curvature of spacetime conformed around her weapons, for their sheer mass and density were enough to grant them their own orbital fields. Nevermind how much force they had to generate to move themselves at subsonic speeds, their mere presence was enough to disorder the geometry of the dragon's flesh and yank him into their flight path with his inertia compounding into it.

Zucroas' serpents surged into the abyss, the realm of death. An afterlife known as Hell. A realm of aught terrible, where the damned torment each other in absence of God. There was no light in this stinking pit of black-burning fire and brimstone, and their luminous into it shone upon those 'eyes', revealing their true nature. They were all an endless swarm of ashen skinned men and women, ferally clawing over and onto each other amidst the stink of their own feces and urine. Various wounds adorned their flesh like the paintings of a sadistic child, leaving them to reach for the serpents which acted with pure malice. The red dust spilled amongst the masses as that astral plasma rendered them into entropic slime, ripping and tearing through the still-moving carcasses of deadmen. But, as was the natural order of things, Hell is paradoxically a place of imbalance and contradiction. The Karma of this place stunk of Kintar's deceitful dominion, and imbued onto the formless ones a purpose, and if not a purpose, a form, for one begot the other and with neither there was only the opportunity for renewal. Their inherent uselessness was fed to the other accursed like pig-slop, strengthening them; bolstering them with infernal might. With each evisceration, with each man or woman turned to goo, the masses grew more potent in their workings as they sought to crush the serpents beneath the clutching and ripping tide of their misery.

Meanwhile, in the mental realm.

Zucroas outputted enough psychic might to pop the brains of countless psions into grey sludge, but it was all for naught. This was no meeting of minds, but a flame that devoured his psyche. His mental energy. What he did was tantamount to pouring gasoline into a fire, which he may as well of done, for that was the literal outcome here. The psy-flame was emboldened by this outcome, if not held at bay briefly, before flowing back into the corridors of his wrathful mind to render his sacred mind palace to a rundown hovel. Though, two other things were of note here. Firstly, his mind registered the attack, but imprinted the response onto a caricature of the woman which his mind conjured up in that exchange. This created effigy soon blossomed into an instance of the real thing, to his detriment. Much like the Kintar in front of him, it glutted itself upon his Wrath, and used his inherent sin as a gaping hole in his supernatural defenses to exploit for the sheer presence of it. The creature swam within pyroclastic flows, and danced upon slipstreams, finding nourishment upon his anger; infesting his mind with his malignant touch, until eventually it proliferated enough to try and cut-off his mind-body connection, infiltrating into his nervous system to shut down his motor controls.

"Mmm, KiKi likes you very much." It whispered, its sultry voice like a finger trailing down Zucroas' spine, and a breathy moan into his neck.

Icy Enmity: Battle in Oerelle's Halls - Alucroas vs Longinus

Pray.

Zucroas sutured tight the gaping wound of causality, weaving Creation itself upon the needlepoint of his tooth and claw. There was little mercy in the act, save for the swiftness of his execution of that loose woman. But, there was something.. strange. Not just in the ease of which he managed to intercede into her being and that of countless others, but in the fact that the connection was already preexisting? Come to think of it, from the moment she entered the frozen forum, the gaze of her reflections seemed to focus on him. It was a ubiquitous kind of attention, the kind of uncanny ease with which an old painting's eyes seem to follow you everywhere. They each adopted her saunter and sway, almost with intent. But that would be silly, right? They're her reflections. They didn't have to try. It is just what they do.

Unfortunately, the Draconite spat in the face of the wench's mercy. Her lovely smile was soon bathed in the radiance of countless volts of electricity and x-rays, flashing the squirming sight of her skeleton in a black-bodied silhouette that danse macabre'd in the wicked frenzy of her "pain". She fell to the floor in a heap, crackling with astral thunder that arced throughout the environment in branches of electric fury. Perhaps the most interesting aspects of the exchange were two things, however, were two-fold. Well, technically three. Firstly, her hand was fully outstretched whilst she collapsed into a smoking wreck upon the floor— her hand curled into what Zucroas perceived to be faux acceptance. Secondly, though her images were all molested with the unbridled fury of the serpents ripping into their throats, they were all.. bloodless. The electricity that the astral predators emitted did conduct into them too, but the charge was consumed by the yawning vortex of something lurking within the now-real reflections, something which mirrored her too-long shadow. Their smiles widened.

Thirdly? From the drooling chasm of her throat spews viscera. Frothing, bubbling scarlet, like sea foam. And much like the sea, there was quite the volume of it too. An unreasonably large amount for someone of her small stature. It seethed in its sluggish trek, spilling out and tainting her smooth, delicate skin with that sticky red. The tide advanced, racing to engulf his shins in her gore. In the same fashion that her doppelgangers seemed to have happen to them, Zucroas' breath rolled over the woman, but passed through the boundary of something unseen. That roiling abyss which persisted in spite of the light of his cataclysm. A brief whine— a shriek— called out from the other side into the material as his lightning seemed to twist as though it got passed through an event horizon, before being yanked down into the endless gullet of her shadow, which blossomed with a bouquet of countless bloodshot eyes.

Wait. There was yet one reflection accounted for. The reflection of her in his eyes, though a reflection it did not remain for long, likely to his chagrin. It blossomed into psy-flame from within the corridors of his gaze. This was no scalpel, nor was it a hammer to batter down the battlements of his mind. It was a jackhammer. Left unattended, from the moment it proliferated itself into being, it sought to consume his skull, though this.. thing.. bore no heat, no severity of the elements. No, it brought a far more destructive gift. Ego death. Its caress made to boil away his psyche, all the way down to his instincts, leaving the creature a hollow, empty existence. A perfect thing to be remade as she saw fit.

Icy Enmity: Battle in Oerelle's Halls - Alucroas vs Longinus

Zucroas broke into the court, utterly and completely feral by all accounts. The brutality of the monster rang true throughout the labyrinthine palace, his madness flashing across glacial glades. By aĺl accounts, the ruckus he had stirred up broadcast his presence to anything lurking within— to any foolish enough to try and kill him. Or, to another monster. The frozen embrace of the interior welcomed him, echoing with the grating candor of Zucroas' snarl, though that too eventually degenerated into a chorus of hushed whispers. Alien from their originator.

The ethereal, baby blue light was everywhere; yet, from somewhere off in that vast corridors of this place did a fuzzy absence seem to cloy at one of its many corners, which bestowed base upon the haunted cries. A faint umbral haze from which the first clatter of dainty steps sing in dissonant harmony with Zu's violence. Not quite a walk of peace, but it was easy to conflate the sultry serenity of the emergent Grecian woman with a sort of pacifying lull. Narcotic in the ease of which even her breathing seemed to lull even the most wrathful of titans. She came into this place, clad in a transparent chiton and himaton which hugged her slight build and fairer features, tinted scarlet with shimmering black patterns that raced through it with the grace of smoke curls. Orbiting the woman's head was a diadem of crossed, golden blades, which a waterfall of warm auburn hair threaded through with lilac flowed past. The darkness which regurgitated her stretched in her wake— joining with the abyssal embrace of her own shade with the diabolic yawn of a Hellmouth. The whispers grew in substance, as though Zucroas' frenzy had given voice to the voiceless, and the woman's presence here only served to bridge that stygian gap. From 20 feet away, the woman extended a delicate hand out for him to take wordlessly— her image splayed out across each crystaline face of the room where 'Croas found his absent. Her loveliness was not diminished, not even as she smiled.

Not even as she wore the smile of one who brought only woe.

Icy Enmity: Battle in Oerelle's Halls - Alucroas vs Longinus

Good luck!

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Initiative.

Like clockwork, the death rattle of this ecosystem mistook itself for life's first breath. Naturae's divine spark flowed freely through the leylines and in through Earth's Champion— the land yielded unto its herald the sweetest of its fruits. Senko's own apple of Eden. Against any man, tapping into this world's heart was a fearsome boon to wield, but Agent Reyes was a man no longer. No, he had been suppressed beneath psychological conditioning, and where the sun had once set beautifully over the horizon of his eyes, there were only pitiless chasms. Reyes was already aware of the opposition's positioning, try as they might to hide themselves energetically. From the top down, Reyes is a miracle of bioengineering. Not only were his cells ten times smaller than the average person, but they were that much more effective and numerous too. Consequently, Reyes could smell, hear, see and even taste them on the air. All mundane expressions of their presence that they apparently neglected to hide, and in the midst of a forest, Reyes has the discipline and refined senses to pick them out. It was a keen awareness that any telepathically gifted amongst them could share the conception of amongst them. The killing machine that he is briefly hefted his gun as Senko erected the forest itself against them, and envisioned scorched earth. Of desolation wrought upon nature, leaving not even salt to be picked from Gaea's carcass.

He became a demon core unto himself. The madness of mindfire radiated from him not in a brilliant flash, but with the insidiousness of a heatwave. A faint ripple in the air, which flows outwardly from the first firing of neurons in recognition of this. His mind flattened the fauna and splattered wildlife, scorching even the ground beneath his feet to a barren waste for 20 feet. Such were the machinations of industry, which choked Gaea's main artery through the brainpox of Reyes' makings and bonded to her boundless force to become neither psionic weght nor a thing of life, but a new thing— a poison to sup upon. An enfeebling thing that castrates the soul and brings low the fleshly blessings they once enjoyed. In that way, though the chaos of Reyes' mind spilled into the material for 20 feet, it was not to be understated. The weight of his mind was the sum total of the multitudes of supernal actions taken by Totsuka, a singular consolidation of exploding and burning energy that thwarted his much more spread out energy, and threatened to obliterate his mind's eye from exposure— though it was a shared punishment to his matriarch, who acted as a filter for him.

Reyes needn't aim to shoot from that point onward. Spatial awareness and a quick glance were sufficient enough to fire with dead-accuracy brought about by superfine motor controls and a superior nervous system. Senko mustered the winds about the time two shots of armor piercing depleted uranium reached an inch from both the center right and left of her chest, in eerily close coordination to each other, followed close by a third aimed for right between her eyes that accounted for the now changing direction of the wind. All accelerated by the outward emanation of his psychic force, shot and placed into the slipstream of deliberately projected power. Reyes rolled forward-right in a swift evasion of the initial wind blade if it proceeded still, and rolled right twice more in quick succession with the lift provided by his psychic aura to remain mobile to avoid any follow-up projectiles, including the gravina lances if any, then rose up back to his feet; shooting a fourth at Shin's upper right thigh, following the scheme of his third bullet; leaving his mind to wander about harsher interpretations of his psionic might. To visualize about how else he might destroy his enemies.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

The jungle leaps with wicked heat and humidity— with the flickering shadows of predators. Even amongst the stench of muck and feral beasts, what cut through the rich stench of the tropics was the smell of fear. The din of Hayden's march through the decrepit earth was the first sign of danger that the jungle beasts knew to avoid the area; the big, red, metallic man stomping through the lush green like a bulldozer with the grace of a dancer. The other was the shadowless gait of another hunter. One less obvious than the first, but he— it— left behind the smell of burning wherever it passed. The song of exotic birds died in their throats, replaced with only the frantic flap of wings as they escaped from the burning smell of death's approach.

>Wake up, Reyes.

Jackson's eyes snapped wide to reveal burgundy embers, echoing with some semblance of the man lying just beneath the veneer of what the Blacklight Project wanted him to be. A killing machine, devoid of humanity— of the human spirit upon which raised itself up upon the throne of the soul. It took him the fraction of a second to assess his situation subconsciously, glancing around to see Hayden on his left-hand side, 60 feet away/20ft behind his flank and soaking up the focus. It was something oppurtune for him, who remained squarely indistinct from the biome, and found all supernally related aspects of himself hidden from prying eyes. His psychically imprinted instructions rang inside of his skull, giving a brief pause as he put his boot to an old stump.

>Mission parameters: Kill or capture priority target 56X intact. The rest are to be disposed of. You are clear for Azimuth level force.

Jackson blinked once as the subliminals rose to his mind's forefront, leaving him to take brief inventory. His tac-gear was equipped, and his hands had already subconsciously taken hold of his custom-made pistol, and the meteoric iron of the straight-edged combat knife. His left hand held the knife, and his right, the pistol; his right hand crossing over his left wrist as he ducked below the brush-line. Jackson observed the situation ahead as the woman came to the forefront, and their mechanized pilot came to meet them. For now, he observed, feeling the weight of his additional magazines on the specialized armored holsters on the left side of his midsection and was mindful of his suicide drugs all the while.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Name: Jackson Reyes
Race: Human (Meta)
Age: 29
Sex: Male

Attributes:

*Spec Ops Combat Training- Agent Reyes demonstrates excellent hand to hand combat skills derived from Pencak Silat and Sambo, proficiency with firearms (the most notable of which being handguns of the .45, .22, and .454 Casull calibers, along with 5.56mm, 7.62mm and 9mm cartridge assault weapons.) and a particular flexibility with the knifeplay of Kali Arnis and Systema. He can move quickly whilst maintaining silenced movement, easily hit a target up to 300m, and make use of an ingrained psychological filter to mitigate extreme informational overloads and pinpoint relevant targets without losing combat effectiveness.

*Physiological Restructuring- Jackson's cellular structure is 10x smaller and more efficient than the average human male's, and possesses an increase of mass to compensate for size. His metabolic efficacy can fully break down any nutrient rich material and completely strip it down of any valuable material, and his body can easily fight off most ailments and toxins— even those of an extraterrestrial or supernatural nature. This is owed to a "Radioactivity Reception" experiment taken by the US Government, where his genes happened to have the right composition and resiliency to mutate and bring about these circumstances after a period of several years through this experimental treatment.

*Psionics- Jackson possesses an innate mental resilience, further bolstered by enhanced psychological conditioning techniques, strategies to resist even the most superb torture, and sheer force of will. His mind is a bastion against telepathic assault, and he finds himself in the unique position to win mental duels against those with the gift. As an aside, he can suppress his psychic presence, and as a result, hide his energy signature in all its other non-physical forms.

Abilities:

Hand of Destruction- Reyes has the capacity to manifest anything his mind can psychologically perceive as destructive into a physical phenomenon via the expression of his psychic potential. This means that he can weaponize his thoughts; catalyzing his mental energy into the states he envisions as a direct result of this. Furthermore, the Hand of Destruction can physically adapt the user's physical body into a vessel equipped to handle both the sheer devestation it can bring upon the earth, and also the sheer strangeness of its anamolous properties. With such a dangerous ability in the hand of a rogue agent, however, the Blacklight Project has found it suitable to install in Agent Reyes' mental programming several safeguards to limit the threat he would pose. Firstly, Agent Reyes can only produce perpetually exploding flames. These flames cannot be controlled once released save for how they are released, and his body's ability to adapt to this phenomenon is mitigated, as his sheer physical durability has merely reached a point of "tolerance". However, it should be noted, that Agent Reyes' psychic projections can bypass resistances toward heat and force, as his psychic energy merely adapts the qualities of these things, and it is ill advised to take in this energy, as it infects any aperatus that attempts to absorb and/or purify it, imbuing the qualities of his thoughts onto the target in that exchange.

Equipment:

*1x Custom Made .454 Casull Semi-Automatic pistol with 20rd magazine, pistol grip, and a side-mounted laser sight that produces light from the "invisible spectrum" that Reyes' eyes have adapted to percieve. The rounds chambered in this firearm are FMJs with depleted uranium cores, and produce no daylight flash and barely any nighttime flash.

*3x additional magazines.

*Meteoric-Iron Knife "Calisto". A 16" straight edged knife forged with a particularly hard and dense iteration of the metal, required plasma cutters to hew it into shape as acid baths and hydraulic presses were not making headway in making it more mallaeble. Weapon is sharpened to cellular edge, and hosts a colony of flesh eating bacteria. Highly resistant to heat and cold extremes, thrives in anaerobic environments. Has formed a symbiotic relationship with agent Reyes, and is additive to his immune system.

*Tac Gear- Titanium-steel alloy body armor with a quintuple kevlar nano-weave underneath, comes with chestplate, arm, shoulder, knee and leg guards. Patches for carrying additional magazines, one for a knife and gun holster on each side of his waist respectively. Comes with reinforced light-adjusting night vision goggles, and two smoke canisters.

*2x 3000mg military grade LSD tablets. Strong enough to kill a supernatural being with only 500mg, but his body metabolizes it rapidly enough to only put him in an extreme euphoric state before the psychedelics take effect. Temporarily disarms psychological conditioning that limits his Hand of Destruction. Delivered through a false tooth, told to take in the event of capture by the enemy as part of psychological conditioning to commit suicide. One seperate pill inside one of his magazine pouches.

5v5 3Dark vs Bolts

Darker and darklier!!