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3 yrs ago
Current is sexualizing Pokemon a variation of bestiality?
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3 yrs ago
lol. lmao
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3 yrs ago
JOHN TABLE!
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4 yrs ago
hearing rumors that rebornfan is storming the US capitol, looking for whoever's responsible for everyone ghosting his RPs
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you got a fat ass and a bright future ahead of you. keep it up champ
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Well, this is weird. Count me in. Prolly gonna snag up flex so I can feel special

The real question tho, is Brigitte an off tank or a secondary healer, or some nifty combo of both?


Haven't kept up with OWL this season as much as I used to, but from my understanding Brig is mostly used in 3 healer/3 tank comps called GOATS. Fun fact: it looks completely terrible to play against :^)
Silent Night, Holy Night #4


Metropolis, Delaware - Hob's Bay

Jaime Reyes put his hands on his head, doing his best to slow the rapid beat of his heart. Both of his friends were gone, and he hadn't a clue where they'd went. He was stuck in the middle of a stinking set of old warehouses in the dark, and the only person with him was a metahuman that had just been attempting to slice him into ribbons not but a few minutes ago.

'As shitty situations go, it doesn't get much worse than this.' He thought, his expression twisting as he tried to work himself out of his current mood. Needed to be focused now. Needed to stay calm if he wanted to figure this all out.

"Right." He finally breathed, letting his hands drop away from his head and down to his sides. He turned about, facing the young Asian woman draped in shadow. Something about the darkness that hugged against her form reminded Jaime of that monster Caulder ran around with- Warp. It unsettled him enough that Reyes decided to divert his eyes while he spoke to her.

"You didn't touch 'em, and I...believe you." There wasn't much to be gained by pressing her. Reyes could tell from the way she spoke that she was telling the truth; besides, if he couldn't trust her, Jaime would find himself truly alone. And that thought...sort of terrified him at the moment. "But then where on God's green earth did they run off to? And why?" It wasn't like Paco or Brenda to just bolt the moment things went south. Well. Maybe it made sense for Paco to run, the little coward, but Brenda would've tried to take a pipe to the Silver Surfer's head if she was at the Raft.

The other woman was in far worse shape than he was. Her hands were shaking with a violent and uncontrollable terror, and sweat was trickling down every contour of her face. She was throwing her head around in every direction like she was trying to find something in the dark. Just seeing her like that was nearly enough to unnerve Jaime even worse than he already was.

Reyes hesitated before deciding to move closer to her, his hands held out to take her arms as gently as he could. "Hey," He whispered, trying to keep his own voice in check so he didn't make matters worse. "You're okay, we'll figure this out. Like I said before, I'm not gonna hurt you. What's...what's your name?" Distracting her from whatever it was she was scared of sounded like a good idea to him. He couldn't be sure why she was so worked up, aside from the fact they'd nearly killed each other not that long ago.

"Sil." She muttered after a few seconds of thought, her eyes slipping away from her surroundings and locking on Jaime's. "My name's Sil. And it's... it's not you I'm afraid of."

His brow furrowed. "The 'other one' you mentioned?" He asked. Part of him knew what she meant, but the rest of him didn't want to believe it. He wanted her to say no, as unlikely as it would be. "Another one...like...me?"

"Yes." Sil nodded. "Like you, but worse. So...so much worse."

There was no other logical conclusion for Reyes to come to, but he decided in a split second that he'd deny it for as long as he could. "We need to get out of here." He hurriedly moved on, drowning the lingering doubt with something so much more simple: survival. Escape. "We'll...we'll figure something out once we're safe."

She nodded again, remaining silent as she reluctantly pulled away from Reyes. Despite the darkness that clung around them, some unknown enemy hiding under its shadow, they had to get moving; remaining here was a death sentence. The two started to make their way back toward the van, Jaime fighting back the urge to vomit as his mind lingered on the fates of his missing friends. He had to believe they were okay, that they'd...ran or-...or something-

Jaime was halfway through opening the driver side door when the lights went out.

Not just in the van, but everywhere. Every single street lamp in sight, every headlight in the distance, even the apartments hanging in the background went dark. He practically threw his head inside to check that even the screen on the cellphone he'd left on his seat was pitch black. "What the hell-"

"I'm sorry." Sil called from somewhere in that mess of black, her voice shaken and uncertain. "I- I'm sorry about your friends, but I can't...can't be out like this. I need to stay in the dark." Her voice grew softer now. Jaime couldn't tell if she was lowering it, or if she was just getting further away. "Its the only place that's safe."

"Wait, you can't- damn it, I need you!" Reyes roared in frustration, climbing back out of the van in a vain attempt to find her again. She couldn't do this to him. She was the whole reason he was here, the whole reason his body felt like it'd been dragged through a bed of nails, and she was the reason he wasn't around to protect Brenda and Paco-

This wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry. I've already spent too much time in the open. I'm...I'm sorry." Sil apologized again, and again, her voice little more than a distant, whispy echo now. "Someone else can help you. Not me. Can't be me."

She was abandoning him. She was the only one that could help him find the alien- that even knew anything about the damn thing- and she was just...just leaving. It made Jaime's stomach curl up with a blind rage as he raced out into lines upon lines of identical warehouses. "Sil!" He called out. "Get back here, damn it, SIL!"

"He's here-"

Something struck Reyes in the chest with more force than he'd ever felt in his life. Armor buckled like it was made of tin foil, and he felt his feet leave the asphalt before he even knew what was happening. An explosion of noise struck his ears a moment later, rattling around in his skull like a clap of thunder even as he hit the ground again.

Jaime let out a pained cry, though he couldn't hear it over the ringing in his ears. He gripped the sides of his helmet, trying desperately to cover the ears he couldn't get to. Panic built up in his chest like water against a dam, threatening to make his insides burst. Something hot, wet and sticky was running down his bare abdomen.

"Dios...mío..." He groaned, the sound of his own voice finally peeking through the ringing. Heavy hands moved to the ground, pushing against it to raise himself up into a sitting position. It was a slow and arduous work to fight against the heaving agony in his chest, but once he'd gotten there, Reyes found that he could finally see again. The darkness Sil had created had was now awash with that dim light it had tried to snuff out.

The light Reyes needed to see the gargantuan figure that towered over him.

Though he was barely off of his back, Jaime could tell in an instant he was nearly two feet shorter than the monstrosity standing before him. Its sheer size was wholly unnatural, with shoulders twice as wide as any normal man's should've been, and arms thick with sinew like steel cables. With titanic form draped in the natural darkness of the night, it was hard for Reyes to make out whatever this thing was, but even then he was barely looking at it now. No, his gaze was zeroed in on the other, much smaller, and much more familiar shape that it held aloft.

"...Sil..." Reyes croaked, staring with widened, bloodshot eyes at the claw-like hand wrapped around her throat. The fingers were so tight that Sil's skin underneath and around them was turning a strange shade of palish purple. She was fighting to take in tiny gasps of air, each one faster, weaker and, more horrific than the last. She was pawing at the hand, unable to do so much as wrap them around the giant's fingers.

"Did I hurt you, little brother?" Its voice was warm and silky, booming with a contradictory softness and power that rolled together with disturbing charm. It was the kind of voice Jaime would've expected to come from an actor. "I'm so very sorry. Sometimes I forget my own strength." It- he- laughed. A jolly thing, like he didn't have a care in the world.

This monstrous thing, this grotesque display of a living being, turned to look at Jaime now. And he saw his own face. Not his, exactly, but that of the armor. A shiny, black carapace wrapped tightly about a form bursting with strength and sheer mass, that distinctive, almost insect-like armor almost completely identical to Reyes's. The only difference was the mouth. It was grinning. The armor's faceplate was smiling at him. Even worse, it started to move a second later.

"I know you were close to taking this kill, but I've been tracking this one for weeks now!" He chuckled again, turning those glowing, golden eyes toward the girl he was suffocating the life out of. He had he held up by the throat, staring up into her tear-soaked eyes. Her brown orbs met his, the two holding one another's gaze for several seconds. There was so much fear reflecting in hers. So much terror.

Sil was disturbed by what she saw looking back at her. For all that this monster had done to her, for all the harm it had caused and intended for her, she expected to see sadism or cruelty reflected in those golden slits. Or, perhaps, just the cold, uncaring stare of a lifeless mask. But all she saw there was a flash of pity.

"You put up a good fight." He assured her quietly. "I'll make it quick."

"NO!" Reyes roared so loud it burned his throat. He reached inside of himself, ignoring all of the pain he was in to bring up his arm and lower it toward the black giant's chest. He tried to will his plasma cannon to slip over his arm, expecting that same, usual heat to fill his hand. But it didn't come. Panic practically bursting from his throat, he called out for the Scarab's help. "Khaji- cannon, now!"

But it didn't come.

Khaji Da was still silent.

The other alien was turned fully toward Jaime now, a look of bewilderment on his face. "What are you doing?" He asked, his lips creasing down into a questioning frown as his gaze narrowed on the arm held up toward him. It didn't make any sense. "I don't...understand, little brother." He started toward Reyes, his boots sounding with an audible impact that came with each footfall. There was no hostility in his posture, even as the alien lowered Sil's shaking form and dangled her by his side like she was little more than a doll. "Are you trying to shoot me?"

"Let her- let her go." Jaime ordered once more, the force in his voice greatly diminished as he brought his arm slowly back down to the snow-slicked asphalt underneath of him. "This is between you...and me." Even though Reyes didn't know what the hell this was. He didn't know how the alien was going to react when Jaime tracked it down, he was even preparing for a fight- but this was just about the last thing he expected. It had come to him. And it sounded so...

Human.

Hearing Reyes's words caused the alien pause. His exoskeletal face shifted with shock and confusion, his glowing gaze zipping between Jaime's faceplate and the metahuman he was practically dragging along the ground. "You don't know?" He asked incredulously. "You don't know what THIS is?" He suddenly shifted forward, lowering himself down so that he and Jaime were uncomfortably close. Sil was brought around, still struggling just to remain semi-conscious as the monster turned her paling, sickly face toward Jaime. "Oh Little brother. Oh, by the Reach, little brother, you truly don't know." Sadness etched itself into the words of the hulking, inhuman beast with a metal face that bent and moved in the most unnatural of ways.

Jaime took several, ragged breaths, his eyes tightening with rage underneath his mask. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from lashing out at the second beetle as he tossed a person around and spoke of her like she was little more than a rodent to be disposed of. "I don't know...what the hell is wrong with you..." Jaime started, trying to push himself to his feet. It took an extraordinary amount of effort, one of his hands taking hold of a nearby trash can for leverage while the other stuck an accusatory finger up toward the towering monster. "But you're gonna put her down," he snarled, glancing down at Sil, unsure how long she had left. "You're gonna tell me what you did to my friends," His eyes snapped right back up to the larger alien's, matching his gaze with all of the courage he could muster. "-And then you're gonna explain all of the mierda coming out of your mouth since you tried to punch a hole in my chest."

For several moments, the Alpha was silent. He stood aloft in the cold, winter night, his head turned upwards toward the night sky. The light pollution from Metropolis's towering skyscrapers all but blotted out the stars above, but it didn't stop the alien from staring while he thought. After a moment he sighed and looked back to Jaime...

A smile on his metal face as he tried to suppress a chuckle. "I'm sorry, little brother, I know you're serious. But all of these words coming out of your mouth- I cannot take them seriously! You speak like you're one of these primates and not-"

Jaime Reyes shot a closed fist into the Alpha's jaw. He felt his knuckles nearly buckle when the momentous force of his punch was transferred from his extended arm up into the metallic skull of the alien, the power enough to make the behemoth's head snap backward with an audible thwack. The skin underneath Jaime's gauntlet rippled and tore at the blow as the sinew, muscle, and bone it covered screamed out in agony, unsure how their owner had managed to harm them so.

The screaming in his bones was a mere whimper compared to the indignant cry on Reyes's lips. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he threw his other arm forward, letting it impact against his counterpart's abdomen with force equal to or perhaps even greater than the first blow he'd thrown. It slammed into place with an ear-pounding thump, the carapace it struck contorting and bending on contact. He wheeled the first fist around again, bringing it back into the Alpha's cheek, a satisfying crunch following the quick, wild blow. Again and again and again, the boy continued to fire off a flurry of haymakers that made his enemy stumble and backpedal with each landed hit. He cried out, his pent-up rage finally released from deep within his stomach as he poured it all into his assault.

Three months.

Three months of running. Of hiding. Of ignoring the cries for help. Of turning the other cheek. Of 'letting the police handle it.' Three months of holding the power of an atom bomb in his hand yet never being able to use it for anything. Three months of running around like a cockroach, avoiding the light, terrified of doing so much as helping someone that needed him.

Three months of mounting uselessness and anger all channeled into eight bloodied knuckles and his burning lungs and throat as he let it all out.

"Where's Caulder?!" Jaime raged, bits of black fluid and chunks of carapace flying passed his face. "Where's Brenda?! Paco?!" He cried, spittle crashing against the front of his mask as he poured his rage into every bone-shattering attack. "Where's all that FIGHT you had a couple seconds ago?!" He was exhausted. Aching. All of the cuts Sil had given him and the suit had repaired had already torn open again, the scar tissue flooded with blood and energy rapidly leaving Jaime's body with every passing moment. He ignored it. "Come on! Keep talkin'!" Exhaustion rocked his whole system, yet he kept flinging punch after punch after punch, blinded by the whirlwind of emotion that had overtaken him. "Call me a monkey again you fat, ugly piece of-"

A palm found its way onto Jaime's face, ten sharp digits digging into his helmet as the Alpha picked up Reyes by his head. "Silence, boy." He whispered, his voice barely heard above Jaime's screaming. The rage was replaced in an instant by pain. Nothing but howling pain. He was squeezing down on Jaime's head with enough force to crumble away parts of the helmet, revealing tufts of black, sweat-soaked hair and tanned flesh underneath. "Such outbursts do not suit a member of our species. Not to mention the deplorables you'll attract with that... inane screeching."

Not but a moment later, the sound of distant sirens echoed through the nearby streets. Whether they were meant for the docks or not, Jaime couldn't know; but he could barely keep his eyes open at the moment, let alone determine something like that.

"Hrmph. Of course." The alpha muttered, equally annoyed as he was frustrated. "A disappointing first meeting, little brother, I must admit. I expected more from you. Your reputation among the primates is...ill-placed, I fear. Still. You are my brother. I am obliged by our code to teach you." He sighed. "I will return for you when the trials are prepared. In the meantime..." He turned his eyes toward the water of the bay, the light of the moon glistening over its surface. "Why don't you cool off?"

With a mere flick of his wrist, the Alpha beetle sent his younger counterpart soaring through the air toward the icy depths. The last image his little brother saw before being submerged in the winter waters was the Black Beetle turning away, the unconscious metahuman known as Sil slung over his shoulder as he receded into the darkest corners of the City of Tomorrow.
Gotta get my post up tomorrow, but I just want you all to know that @Lord Wraith is a big ol' ding dong.
Well, got some good news and some bad news. I'll start with the bad, since that leads into the good.

The bad news is that, for reasons I cannot fully comprehend or nail down, the tank on my tenure as Batman has run on empty. After a number of false starts and an attempt to drum up another one that would have maybe give me another two weeks of struggling, only to realize what I was doing and taking a long hard look at myself, I've regretfully decided that my only logical move from here is to drop the character.

Not for lack of ideas, as I had a metric ton of them to take me through this season and beyond, but for lack of being able to do them justice in my current state. I'm still as passionate as ever about the character, but not as passionate as I was about writing him. Even the few posts I got in this season were a strain for me to come up with, despite a fully written outline and a whole new status quo to play with.

The good news is that I love the community here so much and am proud enough of the work put into it not to leave the RPG. As a GM or as a player. So while I may be done with The Dark Knight for the time being, perhaps you can expect a new application from me...

I'll weigh out my options and see what I can come up with.

In the meantime, I'll leave it up to the rest of you to decide who'll take up the cowl in my stead. I won't lie and say that my interest won't likely resume at some point down the line, when the inner fog has cleared, but I also know that Bats is bigger than me. So whoever wants to do the honors, I encourage you to make it yours.




Op. No. KY-9914; Pvt. Malik Skaya
121st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon, 1st Squad
Lothor Minor | Planetfall - Contact
APPROX. 1200HRS; 5 BBY



The rear of the Lambda shook as it broke through Lothor Minor's atmosphere. Malik Skaya wrapped his fingers tighter around his E-11, his gaze kept firmly on the floor as he counted down the seconds until they made planetfall. The nerves he'd gotten simply entering the shuttle returned now, the prospect of rushing into a volley of blaster fire made his blood boil with anticipation and anxiety. Violence and bloodshed had plagued Aquellan culture since its dawn. It was bred into each and every one of them at birth; those who refused to fight were seen as oddities at best and damned cowards at worst.

Skaya had spent every day in the Corps proving again and again that he was the warrior his people expected him to be. This was just another chance to prove his mettle one more time.

A panicked voice drowning in static screamed out from the cockpit. Skaya was too far from that side of the shuttle to understand it, but the tone in the pilot's voice and the way the sergeant spun around made the medic's heart jump into his throat. 'Contact? Already?' He wondered, only for the enemy to confirm his suspicions by firing upon the shuttle. The entire vehicle gave a sudden and savage lurch, throwing the sergeant to the ground and slamming Malik's head forward. He would've gone tumbling out of his seat if not for the restraining straps that dug into his shoulders between the gaps in his armor plating.

"Zina." He cursed under his breath, clutching his service weapon to his chest like it was his only lifeline in the middle of a storm. That rifle was the only damn thing Malik knew he could rely on. It was the only thing that would keep him alive once that lift fell and he went dashing headfirst into enemy laser fire. Everything else was just noise. Screeching, violent noise as he counted down the agonizing seconds until the fighting began- or they were blown out of the sky before he ever got the chance to fire off a shot.

The shuttle touched down, crushing a mass of trash underneath its weight, the ramp beginning to fall but a moment later. Skaya unhooked his straps in one, quick motion, rising out of his seat to the tune of the devil's piano that the enemy was using to pepper their transport. A thick, noxious fog rammed against Malik's nostrils as he filed out behind Sergeant Vytuia, adrenaline racing through his system as he mentally steeled himself for what came next.

A flurry of heat passed mere inches from his head, the blaster bolt striking against the hull of the shuttle directly above him. Vytuia's voice played in his ear through his helmet's built-in radio even as Skaya made his mad dash for cover. A large, flat piece of metal half-buried in a mountain of junk looked to be his best bet. It was was one of the wings of a long defunct TIE Fighter, he guessed; not that where it came from mattered as much as its ability to absorb enemy fire. Malik slammed his shoulder up against the broken wing, several more blaster bolts flying passed him just as he disappeared behind it.

His first task was to crouch and peek, hoping to get a decent lay of the land before he decided the best course of action for taking the top of that hill. The first thing he noted was just how damned hard it was to pick out the natives from the terrain. They wore the same, drab browns and dirty grays that made up the junk and rock of Lothor Minor, allowing them to blend in even when they stood in plain view. There could be anywhere from five to twenty-five of them just on this hill and Skaya wouldn't know until they started shooting. The second thing he noted was just how aggressive they were. Even now, two of the bastards were running right at them with near-suicidal intent, like their lives didn't matter. Fanatacism, maybe? Or desperation?

Malik slid his scope up in front of his face, dragging it along the hillside. He counted out each individual muzzle flash he noticed, tallying them all up before moving the scope back over and double-checking his math. He popped up a shot whenever he thought he had a chance to land it, the E-11's stock smacking up against his shoulder with each gentle press of the trigger. Malik was no marksman, however, and the extraneous conditions on the field made his aim...questionable. "I count eight in total, including the gunner-" He started to speak over the comm, only for a blaster shot to fly right past his head and force him to duck into cover to avoid decapitation. That one came from somewhere else entirely. "Nine! Make that nine!"

Op. No. KY-9914; Pvt. Malik Skaya
121st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon, 1st Squad
Lothor Minor | Planetfall - Contact
APPROX. 1200HRS; 5 BBY



The rear of the Lambda shook as it broke through Lothor Minor's atmosphere. Malik Skaya wrapped his fingers tighter around his E-11, his gaze kept firmly on the floor as he counted down the seconds until they made planetfall. The nerves he'd gotten simply entering the shuttle returned now, the prospect of rushing into a volley of blaster fire made his blood boil with anticipation and anxiety. Violence and bloodshed had plagued Aquellan culture since its dawn. It was bred into each and every one of them at birth; those who refused to fight were seen as oddities at best and damned cowards at worst.

Skaya had spent every day in the Corps proving again and again that he was the warrior his people expected him to be. This was just another chance to prove his mettle one more time.

A panicked voice drowning in static screamed out from the cockpit. Skaya was too far from that side of the shuttle to understand it, but the tone in the pilot's voice and the way the sergeant spun around made the medic's heart jump into his throat. 'Contact? Already?' He wondered, only for the enemy to confirm his suspicions by firing upon the shuttle. The entire vehicle gave a sudden and savage lurch, throwing the sergeant to the ground and slamming Malik's head forward. He would've gone tumbling out of his seat if not for the restraining straps that dug into his shoulders between the gaps in his armor plating.

"Zina." He cursed under his breath, clutching his service weapon to his chest like it was his only lifeline in the middle of a storm. That rifle was the only damn thing Malik knew he could rely on. It was the only thing that would keep him alive once that lift fell and he went dashing headfirst into enemy laser fire. Everything else was just noise. Screeching, violent noise as he counted down the agonizing seconds until the fighting began- or they were blown out of the sky before he ever got the chance to fire off a shot.

The shuttle touched down, crushing a mass of trash underneath its weight, the ramp beginning to fall but a moment later. Skaya unhooked his straps in one, quick motion, rising out of his seat to the tune of the devil's piano that the enemy was using to pepper their transport. A thick, noxious fog rammed against Malik's nostrils as he filed out behind Sergeant Vytuia, adrenaline racing through his system as he mentally steeled himself for what came next.

A flurry of heat passed mere inches from his head, the blaster bolt striking against the hull of the shuttle directly above him. Vytuia's voice played in his ear through his helmet's built-in radio even as Skaya made his mad dash for cover. A large, flat piece of metal half-buried in a mountain of junk looked to be his best bet. It was was one of the wings of a long defunct TIE Fighter, he guessed; not that where it came from mattered as much as its ability to absorb enemy fire. Malik slammed his shoulder up against the broken wing, several more blaster bolts flying passed him just as he disappeared behind it.

His first task was to crouch and peek, hoping to get a decent lay of the land before he decided the best course of action for taking the top of that hill. The first thing he noted was just how damned hard it was to pick out the natives from the terrain. They wore the same, drab browns and dirty grays that made up the junk and rock of Lothor Minor, allowing them to blend in even when they stood in plain view. There could be anywhere from five to twenty-five of them just on this hill and Skaya wouldn't know until they started shooting. The second thing he noted was just how aggressive they were. Even now, two of the bastards were running right at them with near-suicidal intent, like their lives didn't matter. Fanatacism, maybe? Or desperation?

Malik slid his scope up in front of his face, dragging it along the hillside. He counted out each individual muzzle flash he noticed, tallying them all up before moving the scope back over and double-checking his math. He popped up a shot whenever he thought he had a chance to land it, the E-11's stock smacking up against his shoulder with each gentle press of the trigger. Malik was no marksman, however, and the extraneous conditions on the field made his aim...questionable. "I count eight in total, including the gunner-" He started to speak over the comm, only for a blaster shot to fly right past his head and force him to duck into cover to avoid decapitation. That one came from somewhere else entirely. "Nine! Make that nine!"
Silent Night, Holy Night #3


???

Everything was black.

It had been so dark in the warehouse that Jaime couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but this...this was different. He could feel this darkness. It weighed heavy on his shoulders like an invisible thumb pressing against his back, moments away from squashing him like the insect he was. The shadows around him were thick enough that he felt slow pushing through them; it took considerable effort just to blink.

"Where the hell am I?" He muttered, his breath ragged. He was growing tired just trying to remain standing.

"That's a good word for it." Another voice echoed through the dark, bouncing around on the streams of shadow like the bang of a gunshot echoing through a canyon. Jaime couldn't tell where it was coming from; like it was sounding from everywhere yet nowhere all at once.

Something sharp pressed into the small of his back, slashing through layers of chitin and living metal until it kissed his flesh and drew a drop of blood. Jaime spun around, swinging his arm like a baseball bat to strike at whatever had stabbed him, but his arm found nothing but empty, noxious air.

"Hell." The sharpness slipped along Reyes's cheek as the voice called out in a taunting tone, dragging the unseen blade down his jawline, retreating a moment before the Blue Beetle could land a counter blow of his own.

Reyes felt heat rising in his cheeks. "Sorry, but I've met the devil and he is so much more intimidating than you." He held his hands up in front of his chest, listening carefully for even the slightest sound around him. The blaring static from his malfunctioning helmet made that quite difficult. Jaime waited, keeping perfectly still right up until he felt another strike land on his back. It tore through his armor with disturbing ease, taking another long chunk from his back and sending a spray of blood through the blackness.

He was struggling to keep it together. Every cut and stab caused him immense pain. Khaji Da had gone silent save for the obnoxious ringing in his ear, and the armor was doing next to nothing to protect him. Reyes felt exposed. And he felt alone.

"You're not like the other one." The shadows hissed again, menace and rage laced into every reverberating word. "Barely putting up a fight!"

'Other one?' Jaime furrowed his brow, his mind racing with questions even as he felt another agonizing slash race across his chest. He buried his concerns and swallowed his panic. He couldn't die here. Not after everything else he'd gone through. If the Silver Surfer couldn't kill Jaime Reyes then this two-bit phantom didn't stand a chance. He counted out the seconds in his head, his body turned slightly and his elbow locked in preparation. 'One. Two. Three-' Then he let it loose like a rocket, flinging it back just as he felt the knife touch his back. The elbow struck true against something solid. Something that audibly cried out at the contact.

"Ha!" Jaime celebrated, spinning around to throw another wide punch in the hopes of following up on his success. It went wide, but it did little to impede his reinforced morale. "Knew you weren't a fuckin' ghost!" It was a person- maybe a metahuman. If he could hit them, and if he could hurt them, that meant he could win.

His celebration was cut short when he felt a weight land on his back, forcing Jaime to stumble forward and nearly fall. Limbs wrapped around his waist and another around his throat. A moment later he felt something impale through his shoulder, slicing up muscle and sinew with ruthless efficiency. "DIE YOU BASTARD!" The shadow roared right in Reyes's ear as it pulled out the knife and plunged it right back in a few inches to the left. "Won't- won't let you hurt me again-"

Reyes took hold of the arm around his throat, squeezing down on it with all of his strength. Even if the armor wasn't doing much to protect him it still offered him the overwhelming physical prowess needed to snap bone between his fingers. The shadow let out a pained, almost pathetic yelp as Jaime broke its wrist and dragged it from his back. He threw it to the floor, an audible CRACK! sounding as it made impact.

"You came at me!" Reyes snarled between panted breaths, holding steadfast to the broken arm to keep his attacker from scrambling away. He shuffled forward, his hand moving through the dark until he found something solid to take a hold of. Now he had...whoever it was pinned to the ground. All they could do was flail and thrash uselessly against the infinitely stronger Reyes. "Now who the hell are you?! Where'd you take me, and where'd my friends go?!" He demanded, ignoring the pain that stretched across his body.

The metahuman wasn't speaking anymore. All it gave were anguished whimpers as it continued to fling itself around in a desperate and useless bid to escape from Beetle.

"What 'other one' were you talking about? Another person-"

"Another MONSTER!" The shadow person screamed. Now that the fighting had stopped and Jaime was close enough to it to hear, the voice sounded feminine. And it sounded angry. And scared. "Let me go, damn it- LET ME FUCKING GO!"

Jaime felt his heart drop into his stomach. He'd been called a lot of things over the last few months. Criminal, terrorist, murderer- but that was a new one, and it hurt a great deal more than all the rest. Jaime loosed his grip, only holding on enough to ensure she couldn't slip away without causing the metahuman too much unnecessary pain. After a moment's hesitation, he willed his helmet to peel away, exposing his sweat-soaked face. His human face.

Struggling to keep his voice even, Reyes spoke as calmly and quietly as he could. "I don't want to hurt you." He promised. "I didn't come here to hurt you. I just wanna talk."

She stopped thrashing, though she still refused to speak. The static that once clogged his hearing left with the helmet. Now all he could hear was their shared ragged and pained breathing. Silence otherwise hung with the same weight as the darkness. Minutes passed before the other metahuman finally spoke, her throat raw and her voice ragged with pain. "The other one would've killed me by now." She muttered hoarsely. Again she went quiet, and again she waited a few moments before coming to a decision. "Okay. I...trust you."

Then Jaime felt the floor give out from underneath him.

He fell through the black, emerging to the blinding light of the moon and the stink of old fish in the air. He was back in Metropolis, standing over a woman perhaps only a few years his elder. Her dark flesh and curly, black locks were as slicked with sweat as his own, and her eyes were glazed over with pain and exhaustion. Reyes slipped his hands off of her only to slip them underneath her arms to keep the taller metahuman from falling over- it took a great deal of effort for Reyes not to collapse with the extra weight placed upon his torn and cut shoulders. "You really did a number on me, chica." He groaned, stumbling toward a nearby stack of crates that they could rest upon.

She just laughed, practically throwing herself at the first box they came upon. Despite the questionable quality of the wood, it looked like the most comfortable thing she'd ever sat on at the moment. "Expected more from you, to be honest." She rasped, a hint of an Indochinese accent peeking through.

"Hurtful." Reyes chortled. He took a second to catch his breath, casting his gaze around their lonely surroundings. Tall, abandoned warehouses stretched on for miles all around then. The one he, Paco and Brenda had entered was just on the other side of the street, yet there was no sign of their of his companions. "Where'd they go?" He asked, casting his gaze over toward the unnamed metahuman.

"...I don't know." She answered, a hint of fear in her voice. "I didn't take them with me. Just you."

Jaime was relatively sure she was telling the truth- which made him all the more worried. They should've been there. "Guys? GUYS?" He called out as loudly as he could, listening to the sound of his voice echo through the warehouse district. No reply came, save for the returning reverb of his own cry.

"GUYS?" He asked again, shoving himself off of his resting point. Jaime only made it a few feet forward before he tripped and stumbled, landing on his knees. "Where the hell did they go?" The only answer the night had for him was silence.
G R A V E S

• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •



Graves was nearly taken off his feet when Arnaakus shook the dungeon interior like a child shaking his present on Christmas morning. The sheer force of the demon's rampage was enough to make him stumble, his halber'd butt jammed hard in the stone to keep him from tumbling onto his back. "God damn it!" He howled, his expression twisting in an ugly, angry snarl as he stared up at the towering titan that threatened to end them all. Their backline was hitting the thing with everything they had, but it had barely made a difference. There had to be something they were missing here; some weakness they hadn't exposed.

He wasn't given the time to think it over, though, as Arnaakus had started his next attack. A gargantuan arm of frozen ice as tough as steel and taller than Graves was beginning to sweep across the chamber with frightening rapidity. Rael had grabbed Tiferet and dragged her away from the incoming hand, but Graves felt his stomach sink as he realized he wouldn't be able to avoid it: too slow to go around, too heavy to go over, and likely unable to survive what was coming his way.

'Don't think about it.' He told himself, his eyes shifting to those around him. There had to be something he could do. Flower boy was closest, and though he looked a deal more agile than Graves, the Blood Knight wasn't taking any chances. He sprinted over to Ochre, a hand wrapping about the scruff of his neck. "Climb!" It was the only word Graves was able to get out before the sweeping limb was nearly atop them. He reeled back, tossing Ochre with all of the strength he could muster, watching for that brief second before impact as flower boy managed to scramble over top the arm and fall off the other side, safe and sound.

Graves and Vulcan weren't so lucky.

There was a sickeningly loud crunch like the sound of a beetle being crushed under a man's heel. Graves felt his breath catch in his throat, his lungs compressing as several bones began to snap and break in a concert of violence and cruelty. Something hot and sticky dripped down his face, and there was this...enormous pressure all over his body. He couldn't explain the sensations in any sort of meaningful language; his mind was too clouded by shock to properly grasp that he was inches away from having his organs flattened in a mass of gore and blood.

Then the pressure was abruptly brought off of him, and he felt himself fall away from the wall. Crumbling stone landed atop his back as his face slammed against the floor. He struggled to take air into his lungs with short, desperate gasps, the agony in his body amplifying with each passing second. The shock was beginning to wear off now. He was becoming more aware of his surroundings; more aware of the fact that half of his limbs refused to budge. Graves forced his only working arm backward, fumbling around for his potion belt. His fingers brushed through a great deal of broken glass before he managed to find one that had managed to survive the impact.

Even as he lifted the healing potion to his lips, he was keenly aware that he wasn't the only one lying on the floor- but he was the only one that had started moving.

Despite his condition and the pounding ache in his head, Graves was more than able to hear the explosion that rippled out like thunder from Arnaakus's head. Someone- maybe Landon, or the Pyromancer- had landed a lucky blow directly through the demon's eye, and the resulting explosion had blown a giant chunk out of Arnaakus's skull, revealing the glowing mass of what could only be assumed to be its brain. Realizing its predicament, the beast let out an agonized roar, lifting up one arm to protect it's exposed organ while the other began to smash into the ground in the vague direction of its attackers in the hopes of squashing them like the obnoxious little gnats that they were. Each blow caused the room to quake, sprays of broken cobblestone and dirt flying in every direction to make the scene even more chaotic than it already was.
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