Richmond Building
Downtown Boston
21st January, 2011“Perfect,” he said with a chuckle. “I always find a good brandy to be the best way to celebrate.” As he poured the drink and sat it in front of his guest, his thoughts were interrupted by the hum of the elevator heading up to his floor. Which was strange.
Because he wasn’t expecting more guests.
“You haven’t brought anyone with you, by any chance?” he asked, while walking over to his desk. Inside the top drawer was a large caliber handgun, and a pair of throwing knives. With an almost practised routine, he picked up and loaded the gun, hiding it and the knives underneath his shirt. One could never be too careful.
With a chime, the elevator arrived and the doors parted open. Out walked a number of people. A man, wearing a highly-elaborate red and black formal jacket which trailed down to his ankles - like something out of a period drama. His mask was one of white porcelain, eerily similar to Sickle-Cell’s, but the only decoration besides the two eye-holes was a large, black cracked mass over the left eye. It was hard to tell if the mask had been damaged or designed like that.
Beside him was what looked like a girl in a form-fitting black outfit. It was hooded, and she too sported a white mask. This one had only large, bug-like glass eyes as distinguishing features, though.
And between the two stood the only person he recognised. She was covered with a tight, black leather biker suit with a modified helmet to match. It left her mouth - and only her mouth - visible, with the flash of her purple lipstick the only colour she had.
He blinked several times. He wasn’t expecting a visit. “Conflux. How lovely of you to drop by, but I’m afraid I’m already engaged.” Keeping his hand in reach of the gun at all times, he circled her warily. “If you’d like to make an appointment, i may be free sometime next week.”
“I did make one, my darling,” she purred. “Just ask your receptionist.”
“What did you do to her?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
She smirked. “Nothing yet.” Her eyes fell on Holly and lit up under the helmet. “Awww! Is this your new guard dog? She’s adorable!” Leaning closer, she spoke. “Bark for me.” Each word crashed over the girl like a tidal wave of pressure. Every syllable a mix of discordant and harmonious tones. A sudden and overwhelming urge to obey her rose up and-
“Kill yourself,” Kingmaker ordered Holly.
These words were different. There was no obvious sound to them, but they seemed so compelling. It was the obvious thing to do. Except it wasn’t. No human in their right mind would ever-
Crack.Something inside the young girl’s head gave way, causing a burst of crippling pain to wash over her. A concentrated migrane of unholy proportions. Conflux placed her hands on her hips, dramatically. “You are no fun!” she shouted. “And you hurt her. I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“Of course not,” Kingmaker replied. “This time, maybe. What do you want?”
“I’m here to deliver a message,” she said with a smile. “As of right now, this city belongs to me. Every faction in this city is going to quite happily roll over and give me the power I want, and if they don’t, things are going to get rather messy.”
Within a second, his gun was in-hand. Two shots rang out.
The man at her side wasted no time. He was in front of her the second Kingmaker made a move. The bullets hit, blew holes in his skin, and instantly began to reform. Conflux gave a nod to her other henchman, who moved forward and touched Holly’s bare skin with her own. Looking towards the window, she used her telekinesis to tear open the blinds, causing a shaft of setting sunlight to illuminate the room.
And Kingmaker began to scream.
His exposed flesh glistened in the light, before starting to burn and melt. The pain brought him to his knees in a desperate attempt to find cover. All the while, Conflux merely smiled. “It’s almost pathetic how much power you think you wield, but without your tools, you are worthless.”
“Be careful when you play with fire, my boy,” she called over her shoulder as she left. “You might just get burned.”
@knifeman
The Zenith - Xoxi’s Repurposed Meeting Room
Above Boston
21st January, 2011A few rounds of smash bros later - none of which anyone bar Xoxi had managed to win - a sound at the door startled the collective group. It opened with a hiss to reveal Vector. She quite clearly hadn’t left to attend the Circus, but given her speed at covering the city, that wasn’t a surprise.
More interesting, though, was that she’d brought pizza.
“Which one of you damned idiots decided to order pizza to the
Zenith?” she asked, incredulously. “Do you have
any idea what Praetor would do if he found out?”
Aedan’s eyes lit up. “We have pizza?”
The Ward leader looked more curious than worried. “How on Earth did the pizza company deliver this high up?”
With a wicked glint in her eye, Kairi spoke. “They didn’t. They called Vector, and she delivered it. She’s basically the Protectorate’s pizza girl,” she said with a whisper.
Vector very nearly threw the pizza at her. “I am not, you little shit!”
“So this is the first time you’ve done this?” Kairi asked, knowing full well the answer.
Without her helmet, the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks was clearly visible. Seeing the hero with the most confirmed kill-order takedowns in the Boston Protectorate blush was quite possibly one of the most terrifying things the Wards would ever see. “Fine. No. But since I only did this to save word of your stupidity getting back to Praetor, I’d be nicer if I were you.”
“Or I’ll just eat all these myself.”
[@Banana]
The Circus Maximus
Victory Road
21st January, 2011He knew most of what she could do. The famous quote from Sun Tzu sprang to mind. Problem was, while he almost always knew his enemy…
He was an enigma, even to himself.
It takes either an enormous idiot or an impulsive fool to begin a fight at a disadvantage. However, he’d managed to do so with two. Some sort of internal injury, and arguably even worse, not a drop of blood outside his body.
The blood armour he always wore underneath his costume had to be abandoned before entering the Circus. He needed his power to keep it moving and with the restriction field in place it would've made him a glorified statue. The more blood he had, the better. He needed a way to get quite a bit out as quickly as possible.
His opponent charged him. A risky gambit, but from her attitude, he’d expected little else. However, clearly knowing she was a cyborg wasn’t all there was to it. Her dossier file had detailed a number of augments, but missed that one earlier. Had it been a new one? Was the information wrong?
One thing it had mentioned was hidden blades inside the arms. If that was what she planned to do here - if - it might just work to his advantage. Of course, that meant actually taking yet another hit, but he had resigned himself to getting the shit kicked out him in basically every early fight almost a year ago. There wasn’t really any way around it.
As her fist closed in on his head, instead of dodging the attack, he raised his arm to block. A blade appeared. The air immediately around them was filled with the wet, squishy sound of ripping flesh. Impaling his arm practically clean through, Sickle roared in pain.
Which turned to an almost deranged laugh.
His power kicked in. He could
feel the blood in the air. On his arm. On the blade. And with a little bit of focus, he changed it. Made the droplets in the air turn to little spines, no bigger than a cocktail stick. A little more alterations made them razor-sharp, and hard as steel. He did the same to the blood at the edges of his wound, before angling the whole lot away from himself.
And, turning the cut into his arm into a makeshift bomb, sent them screeching out in almost every direction.
@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever@Old Amsterdam@SkinnyTy@PlatinumSkink
PlatinumSkink