TheRockening

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

Shieldtown. The great anti-Thresher walls cast a shadow upon square-cut concrete, strong and rigid beneath the sea of tarps and wires that made up its rooftops. Another day for the most powerful settlement in Titan’s Fall’s undercity. With the walls, their battle-hardened hunters, and Aegis’s presence, the common folk stayed safe, warm, and prosperous as they bustled amidst the midday trade. The city was more than prepared for any giant monster, but not all threats challenged Shieldtown head-on, with smoke on their trails and fire in their throats. One stayed hidden in the shadows. He was shrouded in a ragged cloak as he skulked behind back alleys, glided between an ever-moving crowd, and melted against the walls, barely beyond the searchlights of the drones that flew right over his head. Three glowing red eyes dilated in the pitch black of his hood, his sight fixated on the entrance of the Black Iron Workshop. Bodies filed out from within, dressed in their jumpsuits and hazard gear, until all that was left was the garage door that rolled back down to shut.

Inside the workshop, Ako worked on Temujin under the supervision of Koba. The monkey-man gestured to guide his apprentice. Temujin had been stripped to his bare body, the raw and sinewy muscles bruised with patches of white and tears that revealed the circuitry conjoined with off-white artificial viscera. The only thing that the ninja did not allow them to remove was his mask, or rather, as he insisted, his 'face'.

"Oh, like this?" Ako asked as she cranked her wrench counter-clockwise, a motion that demanded the entire might of her tiny body. Temujin looked down with concern. Koba nodded, his smile brightened by his blue-red markings. Jemma was still and floating behind them, a ball of roiling ink that reflected no light.

Up on the ceiling, behind the grates of a vent, three red eyes blinked within the shadows. The eyes darted from Temujin, to the mechanics, and the black orb. Cybernetics whirred and clicked beneath his cloak as he pushed the vent open, and leapt.

"LOOK OUT!" Temujin shouted. His words barely finished when a gaunt limb collided against Ako's cheek. The mechanic fell back onto the ground with a gurgle, spitting out blood and teeth. The shadow's cloak scattered behind him, revealing a tall man, with muscles that clung to bone. A pair of slacks were the only thing that provided him modesty, held up by suspenders that stretched tight over his skin. His arms were sinewy and uncannily long, with segments and seams and silver-tipped knuckles. His face was triangular and metallic, hissing and clicking through insectoid mandibles. The cables, tubes, and circuitry embedded into his neck made one thing clear: that was not a mask.

"Out of my way," His voice was a shrill, high-pitched hiss. He hunched to face a snarling Koba, his fingers waggling as he drew one of many knives from his belt. "A little bird told me that Dove is back." Three eyes were embedded in the centre of his face, red and bulging with a compound pattern. ”Where is she?”

"Who the fuck are you?!" Temujin shouted back. The invader glanced at him, yet maintained his focus on Koba, watching as the monkey-man placed himself in front of the orb, his arms spread to shield it, and Ako behind him. Could it be? He drew a pair of knives from his hip. "The name's Mantablack. Slasher. Tearer. Ripper!" He tossed the blades to the air and snatched them in a reversed grip. "Stand aside, mutant. I have a job to do!"

Mantablack launched forward. Koba turned towards Jemma and pushed her on instinct, only - his eyes shot wide open. His heart missed a beat. The orb was unmoving… as Koba's arm sank into the blackness. Deeper, further, from his wrist, up his forearm, and beyond the elbow. He gasped, grunted, and panted. Mantablack screeched to a halt. His three eyes squinted, watching with intrigue as Koba struggled, his heavy breaths bleeding panic whilst he pulled and pulled in a desperate attempt to free himself.

"Koba!" Temujin shouted, squirming within his bonds. Mantablack hunched and stepped back, stowing one of his knives back in their sheath. "How interesting," he mused, with a voice that dripped with glee through machine synthesis. Koba reeled back with bared and gritted teeth. The Jemma-orb was swallowing more and more of his arm, until it hovered close to his shoulder, and threatened to take the rest of him.

"Ko… Koba…!" Ako stumbled to her feet, held onto the monkey despite his frantic gestures of ("Don't!"), and pulled, and pulled, and pulled. The orb was less than an inch from his shoulder when the two pulled through. The force tossed Ako against the wall with a visceral 'THUNK', whilst Koba collapsed on the floor, wisps of black vapour welding his arm stump shut.

The bug-eyed man held up his hand in front of the orb. A net blasted forth from the crevice of his palm, wrapping and twisting around the orb with an electric sizzle. "Thanks for that, little monkey. I would've been mulch if not for your 'sacrifice', kyekekekeke." His mandibles with a twisted cackle as he secured the net to his belt. Mantablack turned towards Koba and the now-unconscious Ako, musing, "Don't take it personally… but I can't leave any witnesses alive." The seams on his knife-bearing arm parted with a hiss and pop, revealing hinges that extended his reach, until the tip of the blade touched the floor. Koba met the ripper's gaze head-on, defiant despite the quiver of fear in his eyes.

A pebble bounced off the back of Mantablack's head. "Hmmmm…?!" He looked over his shoulder, catching the flicker of green in Temujin's eyes. "Hey, diesel-dick. Pick on someone your own size!" The ripper tilted his head. Temujin's lack of limbs did not escape his notice. So how did he…?

"What's the matter? Too chickenshit to fight an opponent on your level? Or do you get off on tormenting a defenseless girl and her monkey?!" The ninja continued to bark, drawing a high, rattling chuckle from Mantablack.

"Kyekeke… look at you. A robot with guts." The ripper prodded Temujin's stomach with his knife… from half the room away. "Let's see what they’re like!"

"Who are you calling a robot, chrome-dog?!" Temujin shouted, glaring with all the rage in his mask. Mantablack zoomed in on Temujin's body. "Wait…" He pressed the knife tip against Temujin's navel, and felt it flex against his blade. "That's not rubber… that's Fontaine synth fiber!" The ripper drew his entire arm back and approached, scanning the ninja from head to crotch. "Your entire body's brimming with treasures, pal."

Mantablack grabbed onto the clasp of his stand and snapped it apart with a pull. "What the… hey-" The ninja squirmed and wriggled as the ripper hoisted him over his shoulder. "Put me down, rust-breath! Put me down or I swear to God, I'll-"

"You'll what, throw another pebble at me?" Mantablack sneered. A ripple in his radar alerted Mantablack of the Black Iron workers' return. He glanced at Koba and chuckled. Killing him now would be too much of a hassle. "Looks like this is your lucky day, mutant." He leapt back up towards the vent, and Temujin let out one final defiant scream that melted with the ripper into the darkness. Koba watched them go with vacant eyes, the adrenaline ebbing off to remind him of his wounds.

Beep.

The monkey-man's gaze flicked down, towards where Mantablack was standing.

Beep.

A black box, tangled with root-like wires. A red dot blinked into a countdown.

Beep.

Koba's consciousness returned for one vital second. With the last of his strength, he leapt to shield Ako from the imminent blast.

Beep.

The box shattered. A blue and purple wave of light exploded from within. The ripple passed through the entire workshop, out into the streets, and past three city blocks… snuffing out all light and electricity as it travelled. The city's drones fell from the sky, many of them shattering into pieces as they kissed the earth.



Umbri stopped on their way back. The three men who had been fixing a sign to a roof cheered as they got it lit up, only to let out a synchronised groan as it suddenly cut out. The hum of live wires overhead went dead. A whistle pierced the air. Umbri looked up just in time to shout and jump away.

A mangle of machinery crashed into the place she'd been standing, its lights dead. Umbri squatted to get a better look at the drone that almost wiped her out, then turned her head up to Alex.

"What's going on?"

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

"I'll find them. Whoever orchestrated the whole shebang." A wolfish grin spread across her face, "Pun intended."

Megahertz was quiet for a bit… and then chuckled, a sound as subdued as any expression beneath that hood. “A comedian. Good. Levity is as rare and precious as a virgin in Northbridge.”

“I don't suppose you have a lead? Or some sort of Bloodhound unit among these dogs?"

Megahertz shook her head. “The scene of the crime is the best place to start. Of course, to even get Upstairs, you’d need a Great Elevator. And those don’t exactly grow on trees.” Megahertz clasped her hands beneath her sleeves, and she inhaled in preparation for her summary, ”Cross the border, weave between the sentries and barricades laid by ARES and their Templars… and find your mark.”

The Cazador units blinked out beneath their camouflage, in formations of sixes, then nines, then twelves, until all but the Red-eyed Hound faded - the latter loyally sitting by its master. ”This is goodbye for now, Astrid. But we will be watching.”

The hologram flickered, then disappeared entirely.

The Red-eyed Hound stared at Astrid, its features empty of emotion. It approached her, its stance low like a wary animal as it let out a hiss of garbled static. Astrid’s phone buzzed once. The hound lifted its head as it spoke, ”Use that number to contact Us, if needed.” The Lead Cazador walked past her, its cloak shimmering over its azure chassis as it faded into the dark.

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

"Al-Qurtubi once said that wherever Jahannam goes, the uninitiated will hear its fury and roaring. When the eschaton comes, God will ask Jahannam if it is full, and it will answer, 'Are there yet more to consume?'"

Megahertz chuckled. She lifted her unseen chin as a thrill surged down her spine. "You know your Tafsirs. Lockdown would be pleased."

The hologram did not share in Astrid's laugh, yet despite the faceless darkness in her hood, the straightness of her posture and unflinching gaze showed the newcomer much attention… and intrigue.

Megahertz started to circle around Astrid once more. "The Black King of JAHANNAM does not open his doors for any pawn." She ceased right behind Astrid and looked over her shoulder. "Your might is irrefutable, but our ranks are already overflowing with brute troglodytes and madcap triggermen."

Glitches and static cut into the hologram, and in a blink, Megahertz reappeared in front of Astrid, close enough to draw attention to the former's small frame compared to the latter. Her next words came low, but Astrid heard it in the recesses of her mind. "I'm more interested in your cunning."

Megahertz stepped back and turned her attention towards the Cazadors, their numerous orbs and eyes reflecting the two women. "Have you heard? A terror attack has sent Sector 7 spiralling into chaos and discord. All that power, all that money and security… It meant nothing as tragedy struck. Right in the heart of Ares territory." The stoicity in Megahertz's voice wavered into a brief delight as she spoke. "You've seen what came after. In their fear and paranoia, the Surfacers cast the first stone down on our abyss."

Megahertz clasped her hands, hiding them beneath her sleeves. The red-eyed Cazadore walked up beside her. "The Templars, Ares, JAHANNAM… it's a race against time to find the one responsible behind this plot." She returned her gaze back to Astrid. "Find this mastermind, bring them to us, and you will prove yourself more than worthy for an audience with the King in Black."

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

Temujin watched, rooted and helpless at the sight of ink and flesh, bound and melded in an inhuman ritual. Every nerve in his brain and every bone in his soul screamed at him to launch and strike, to cast aside Umbri and Jemma’s protestations and - as far as he was concerned - save an innocent woman from the deception of a horrid, Graves-borne aberration. The latter’s chronicling of the procedure, delivered through a tone so clinical and eerie juxtaposed against the ripple of ink and Umbri’s dazed mutterings sent a churning sensation in the pits of the cyber ninja’s guts.

“D-Dove…?” Graham asked, pale and wide-eyed beside Koba. She spoke like his apprentice, burned with her spirit, and yet this… thing she became was so far removed from the young girl he knew. He stepped back, his mind clouded by doubts and questions which had remained unanswered… until Koba laid a hand over the blacksmith’s back.

The man-ape stood his ground, his gaze unwavering from Jemma. Sympathy furrowed his brows, despite the mysteries that still plagued his mind. (“That’s our Dove, Graham. Give her a chance, and you’ll see.”) Koba’s hand wandered to his chest as he finished his sign. He brushed aside the fur to stroke at the bars and numbers scarred into his chest.

Temujin turned his head towards Alex. "If… anything happens to her, you better do the right thing," he demanded. He glanced from the corner of his vision, towards the face, stretching and moving beneath the monster's skin. Umbri's face. Green rings briefly glimmered within Temujin's eyes, and a nearby set of pliers rattled upon the desk. A flicker, nothing more.

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

The Cazador unit stared at Astrid's hand, zooming into the liquid that swirled and shined. Words and numbers scrolled up its HUD. Words like 'Breaker', 'Unknown metal', and 'Variable Density'. Words and numbers which Megahertz saw through one of her many screens.

The Cazador remained stoic in the face of Astrid's japes. "Follow me," it spoke, with a garbled voice that seemed not its own, and dashed. Towards the heart of Northbridge, around a corner, away from streetlights and the sun lamp, into an alleyway caged by corrugated metal and wire fences.

Above, in the shadows of the alley, three-slitted eyes lit up as half a dozen Cazadors decloaked all around her. One of the hounds leapt down right in front of Astrid, bearing horns and red eyes instead of green. It strode closer, then projected a cone of light from its head. A cone that flickered into a hologram, clad in a pointed hood and loose robes adorned with circular symbols. No face could be seen within the hood. Only pitch-black darkness, framed through a diamond-shaped opening.

"So you're the one who tore through the blockade in Bridge Street," the hologram spoke. It was a woman's voice, albeit deep as the abyss and reverberating with unearthly whispers. "I am Megahertz. I speak for JAHANNAM." She spread her arms, gesturing towards her army of chrome hounds as her voice was projected through every single one. "And we were watching."

The hologram circled her, with a gait that seemed almost gliding beneath her robes. "You were crude. Messy. And the collateral damage you've left behind will cost a fortune of time and money to SILENCE…!" She stopped as suddenly as she shouted, the whispers beneath her voice turned to wails and shrieks that faded into echoes.

Megahertz clasped her hands. She looked Astrid up and down as she rasped out a sigh. "...But I'd be a liar if I said it wasn't… inspiring," a glint of catharsis purred through her cold, machine tone. "Such spectacle and disaster you have left in your wake, Stranger. Who are you, and why have you come to Northbridge?"

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

A hundred blue screens glowed within a dark room. Megahertz's pointed hood stood like a tower between it all, unflinching and unmovable as she took in every sight and sound.

"Mary-Jane Banou here, with Channel 5000, reporting live from the Ares Justice Square," a voice came from one of the screens. Of a middle-aged woman in a blazer, shouting into a microphone amidst a shrill choir of sirens. Vehicles came in swarms. Armoured carriers painted with red crosses over white, ambulances emblazoned with DocWagon's sigil, and hordes of Sector 7 police cruisers, their blue and red sirens shining behind a blockade armed with Ares's finest. "This disaster, already called the worst in two years, came only just a day after the Tragedy Killer's latest alleged attack which left Cowgirl Blizzard in pieces."

The screen transitioned into the point of view of a shaky camera. It wobbled amidst a sea of sirens and police tape, then zoomed towards a Templar Knight and a Sector 7 Police Captain, their stances tense, their fingers pointing towards each other as an argument broke out, the words "Jurisdiction" and "Fuck off" barely audible amidst the chaos.

On another screen, Katalina skulked beneath the shadowed concrete of a condemned building. A flock followed after her, of scientists wearing oversized glasses and Craftsmen clad in dingy aprons. She gestured to them to stop as searchlights shined through glassless windows, only charging forth as darkness returned.

Sandstorm and his men appeared two screens below, brandishing rifles and shotguns as they stood guard in Downtown Northbridge. "Give it up, coppers. These civillians are under our protection," Sandstorm declared, with his rifle rested against his shoulder, and a fist raised and shifted into solid rock.

A far right screen delved below the streets, within a circular interior, flooded with green-brown muck risen above a man's ankles. The walls were lined with layers of pipes that seemed to stretch forever, caked in layers of rust, moss, and filth. Rakshas emerged behind a turn, with two fellow mutants tailing him. An armoured hovercraft dragged on their rear, protected at the back with rifle-bearing, gas-masked soldiers. The giant's two heads looked up, down, and around, white vapour expelled from their nostrils as they exhaled their perpetual, needle-filled grins. “I smell…,” the rounded head spoke. “...Pigs,” the angular head finished, his voice trailed into a hiss.

And then… something else. On the leftmost screen. An anomaly that drew all of Megahertz’s attention.

---

Ganta shuffled from a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant to his car in an alleyway, in an awkward sideways crab-shuffle, his view obstructed by a mound of takeaway boxes. He chased the jingle in his pocket as he reached the driver’s side door, balancing the stack in his stiff arm - shit, other pocket, shit, other-other pocket. A tub of sauce slid off the tower as he reached for the keys - his good hand shot out and leg kicked behind him, saving the sauce, keeping his balance, and protecting the entire tower from toppling.

… Alright, got the plum sauce, got the keys. Key in the door-

A pain RIPPED through his right arm and uploaded directly to his spine. The split-second flare was the herald of a spasm that sent all the takeaway boxes scattering. He shouted and grabbed at it, but the Chrome limb fought him off, just as the burning pain that screamed INCOMPATIBLE did. He was a helpless witness to its flapping until its final glitch and it fell limp, a dead weight dragging down his shoulder. Ganta panted against the side of the car, staring over the mess of boxes and mongolian beef spread all over the sidewalk. Murmurs trickled in from down the end of the alley. The two girls watching moved on fast when he looked over. Ganta clenched the keys in his fist and put them through the window.

THUD.

The crunch of a body hitting pavement was almost lost in the noise of kicking the shit out of his car. Ganta backed off from the massive dent he'd put in the door and looked over the end of the alley it came from. The frantic beeps of the car alarm followed after him as he approached the body. A riot cop. The man had landed on his shield, which had held up in the plummet. The cop, not so much. Somehow still groaning.

Ganta pushed him over onto his back with a kick of his boot. The man's head rolled in a way that made it clear he probably shouldn't have been messing with the guy's spine. He put his foot on his stomach and leaned over, frisking the cop's chest. The cop's fingers twitched and he blubbered something, a prayer. Ganta dug his fingers in and tore a small device from the cop's vest. Body cam. He put a finger to his earpiece.

"Hey, Megahertz. Who's out here killing police?"

“Huh? What’s this about killing police?” Katalina replied.

“We’re KILLING the po-pos?” Rakshas followed. His other head snorted in revelry. “Good… I was getting HUNGRY!”

“Ganta, you fool. You’re on the wrong channel,” Megahertz replied, with the dry tone of a disappointed mother.

“So do we have the go ahead to ice these coppers?” Sandstorm whispered into his comm, with himself and his men surrounded by the police horde. “They ain’t backing down from this one.”

“We don’t negotiate with crooks!” A police spokesman shouted into his megaphone.

Back in the Northbridge sewers, shadows of men and guns prowled ahead of Rakshas’s caravan. “Base mother, we are deep in the South Industrial sewers, over. No sign of JAHANNAM yet,” the voice of an officer echoed through the tunnel. Rakshas stopped. His two heads looked to their mutant entourage, who all nodded with the same thought. “Let’s do it.” “They’re RIPE for an ambush!”

East Harbour. Katalina perched atop a decayed construction beam, her gaze directed below. Another police blockade had been set up, surrounding all immediate exits. She flexed her clawed arm. “My Lady, I ain’t gettin’ these geeks out of the docks without violence.”

A hiss expelled from Megahertz’s hood, phased into a high-pitched sound not unlike microphone feedback. She hunched over her screens, her hands slammed upon the desk. “Enforcers, stay your bloodlust! Killing the police is UNNECESSARY.” She turned towards Ganta’s screen. “Ganta, fool. You need to go to Bridge Street and destroy all the police cameras at once!” Her hood swivelled towards a nearby screen. The anomaly. "I will look into this… disturbance myself."

An electronic hum came from Ganta’s arm as it came back into use, the weight lifting from it. He flexed its fingers, flicked up the camera, and caught it in his golden hand, where he crushed it. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered, letting the metallic dust slip between his fingers. He looked down at the dying cop, wheezing through a mouthful of blood, and stomped on his head.

---

Bridge Street. The wind rushed past Astrid on her bike. It was daylight, yet the sun lamp barely shined through the fog and haze. Her surroundings were blurred by the speed of her traversal, the lights of street and traffic guiding her towards central Northbridge.

Something stared at her atop a street lamp, through eyes like three slits of green. It leapt, and the street lights illuminated its form. Azure chassis, black synthetic muscles, a canine structure. The chrome dog landed ahead of her with an attention-grabbing 'THUNK', staring as it hunkered into a low stance, an assault rifle mounted on its back.

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

-snip-

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

TW

Trigger warning - racist asshole (you get to beat him up later)

Northbridge. A city in the bowels of Titan's Fall, perpetually choked by dark fog and the green haze of industry. Today however, something foreign descended screaming from the surface. Blinding lights shifted between red and blue. Cars and armoured carriers roared through the streets. A sea of azure spilled from within. Men and women in ballistic plate over fatigues, their faces shielded by one-way visors. Combat droids with legs of wheels and cannon hands. The words "T.F.P.D." were stamped over their hearts.

Titan's Fall's finest busted down shop doors. Poured into alleys where vagabonds gather, turned over barrels and mattresses and stripped their dignity to search their possessions. They charged into derelict buildings, chased teenagers with streaked hairs and oversized hoodies who succumbed to their flight instincts. Sometimes, they even blundered into discoveries, their guns pointed at the skins and bones slumped and coughing behind booths, surrounded by a sea of needles with black veins rooted in their arms.

All of this, all over Northbridge, witnessed by ripples on the walls and ceilings, too still to be noticed by untrained eyes. The ripples slinked away upon a canine gait, the three slits that made up their sight transmitting directly to a blue screen. A dozen blue screens. Several dozen, a myriad, glowing within a pitch black room. A pointed hood stood before it all, the owner's face unseen within the pitch-black folds.

"Once again, the pigs have come to our streets." A voice came from the hood. A stygian contralto. Stilted in cadence, yet projected with undertones of whispers and hisses. "Whenever unrest spreads across Sector 7, we are the first to blame."

The hooded figure spread her arms - thin and unremarkable beneath white flowing sleeves. "An assault on our Fortress carries a success rate of 0.05%." Her voice seethed. "So they've hit our lifeblood. Safehouses. Chem labs. Chrome shops."

A ripple prowled towards the hooded figure's side. Its four legs became clearer in motion, until its mirror-cloak dissipated, revealing a body of deep blue and gunmetal, of plasteel chassis and synth-fibre legs. Its three slit eyes shimmered scarlet between two backwards-facing antennae. "The scale of this raid is unprecedented, Lady Megahertz," the canine droid spoke. The hooded figure caressed the top of the robot's head, and it sat down on its hinds. "The Upper City needs a scapegoat. Urgently."

Megahertz drew out a long, raspy breath. She turned to face her audience. Four figures stood in a circle.

"Then we'll go up there and give 'em one!" A broadly-built woman rammed her right fist into the palm of a scarlet arm. She towered nearly six feet tall, dark of clothes and complexion. She seemed human at first, until the fangs clicked beneath her cheeks, and the serpent-like slits of her eyes dilated with a predator's instinct.

"Do you ever think beyond bloodying your hands?" A man spat in question, clad from head to toe in yellow and grey. His was a youthful voice, lightly southern and a stark contrast to the grim ballistic mask that confined his face. He shook a pointing finger above as he spoke, "We give them what they want, and they'll have a wonderful excuse to rally the States and smoke us out!"

"Let them COME! HEH, give us more MEAT for the SLAUGHTER!” A behemoth, standing heads and shoulders over the rest, wrought of scale-plated muscles that hosted two distinct heads - one angular, with ears of fins, flashing a fang-filled grin which gleamed with his boast. And a bulbous head, with a fin that ran from the top of his head to his spine. The latter’s smile carried less swagger. “Nye he he, great speech, Megahertz, GREAT speech… but I promised the MISSUS I’d be home to help with the cooking tonight. Can we get our mission and GO?”

The man in yellow scoffed. “You keep talking about this Missus, but I ain’t ever seen a lick of her,” he teased the behemoth, looking him from head to toe, from the faces distorted and stretched to monstrous visages, to the thick, bloated body overgrown with barnacles. “Are we even sure she’s real?”

“HAH!” The two heads spat in unison, baring their teeth as they loomed over the much smaller man. “She’s more real than your MEDALS,” the angular head snarled. “Or your… SEX LIFE! Nyeh heh heh!” The rounder head added. The former glanced with disapproval.

The man leaned forward to meet the giant’s challenge. “What did you call me?” He asked, seething. The colour faded from his suit, and sand trickled from micro cracks that formed all over his body. He raised his hand, which had swelled into a gigantic, sand-made fist. "I'll show you how I earned my medals, mutie. Anywhere, anytime!"

"Enough," Megahertz commanded, her voice echoed with a hiss that grated like nails on chalkboard. "These squabbles are a waste of time. We shall move to reassert control over our city."

“Are they right?” A question grunted between the puffs of a cigar. Lips twisted at the left by fresh burned tissue sneered beneath a horned mask. A ringed hand gestured for Megahertz’s attention. His left. The right arm was golden and hung idle beneath an empty sleeve. It was the failed reaper sent for Marionette’s soul, Ganta. Standing between his colleagues now, an arm and a face poorer. “Are we the ones to blame? Bunch of Ares white collars blow themselves up. Can’t be us. I didn’t think we had that kind of… influence, up there.”

Megahertz chuckled - a robotic sound stripped of humour. She turned away from him. "That knowledge is above your paygrade. Only Lockdown and I need to know… for now." He glowered. Left out of the room yet again. She shifted towards the woman in red. "Katalina. Head to our workshops in East Harbour. Make sure our slicers, chrome-surgeons, and gunsmiths escape the Pigs unharmed.” Katalina held up her scarlet arm, brandishing its sickle-like fingers and orbs that hummed with a low rumble. “You can count on me, My Lady.”

Next, the man in yellow. “Sandstorm. Get your men organised and head to the Commerce District. Those shopkeepers paid well for protection… and we JAHANNAM keep our end of every deal.” Sandstorm rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Right… keep the pigs from burning down everything the chinks and kikes have. Got it.”

After that, the two-headed behemoth. “Rakshas. Go down to the sewers and oversee the transport of our caravan.” Megahertz held up a finger. “Make sure there are no accidents with the contraband this time.” Rakshas’s bulbous head cackled. “It was ONE time, Megahertz! You’ll never let me live it down.” His other head growled. “I’ll keep us in line.”

Finally, Ganta. “You. I have a task even you can’t fuck up,” Megahertz began, summoning more emotion in her voice than before. She leaned close, held out a golden-clawed finger, and poked his chest. “I’ve arranged catering with Miss Chang’s tonight. Pick it up. And don’t forget the plum sauce.”

Laughter and snickers jumbled behind him, a choir of mockery that none of the other Enforcers bothered to hide. He just clenched his hands and jaw. The cigar burst between his teeth and coated his tongue in bitter ash.

Megahertz turned her attention back towards the screens. Her metal hound followed suit. “You have your missions. You’re dismissed.” With one word, the Enforcers filed out of Megahertz’s control room. The sounds of a hundred screens were cranked up through the chamber. To the hooded overseer, such cacophony was familiar, even comforting. Especially in the presence of her personal, and most loyal, enforcer. “Cazadors,” she called out to the hound, who stood back on all fours. Across the walls and ceilings, ripples formed over seemingly empty air. Ripples that crawled and lit up with sets of triple-slitted eyes. “Let’s get to work.”

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

The Black Iron crew murmured amongst each other, whispers of questions and curiosities rising amongst the crowd, until Graham let out two thunderous claps that silenced them all. “Alright! It’s time for you bozos to get brunch.” Graham shook a pointing finger. “I know most of y’all skipped breakfast, and I don’t want Riko to get on my ass for workin’ you like dogs!”

Koba signed to summarise, (“So, fuck off.”)

Groans and whoops alike scattered from the sea of black and orange they dispersed, leaving Jemma to enter beneath the roller door with Alex, Graham, and Koba.

Titan's Fall: The Abyssal Paradox

The sea of orange and black surrounded Jemma, coming in all sorts of shapes and sizes. “Dove! It really IS you!” They looked upon her with wide-eyes and wider smiles. The monkey-man Koba barreled into her with a hug.

“You look… different,” The heavyset woman pondered and clasped her cheeks beneath dangling drill-curls. Jemma remembered her name. Margot. “Did you get a haircut?” Koba let Jemma go, stepped back, and signed, his human-like eyes gleaming with attention. (“Where have you been? Everyone thought you were dead!”)

Graham folded his arms. His furrowed brows and the thick curtain of fiery-red beard framed a sour glare… which gave way to a sniffle. “Do you know how much crap we have in our backlog? I had to pick up after all these chucklefucks!"

"Oh, come off it, Graham. We know you missed your favourite apprentice!" One of the mechanics teased.

Laughter filled the air. Laughter and warmth. Ako watched this all, standing beside Alex on the sidelines. "Wow… they really miss her." She smiled. A tinge of bitterness pricked her chest. The Black Iron Workshop had seen many apprentices come and go, but few left as many questions and blue feelings as Dove. “Imagine bein’ that important to so many people…” She glanced and noticed Alex beside her, then chuckled. “Guess you don’t really have to imagine.”

Koba looked at the others and spoke in sign. (“We should send a message to Riko.”) They cringed at the thought. “Are you kidding? The Old Woman’s hanging with her grandkids in Alaska. She’ll give us an earful for bothering her!”

Koba stared at them. Then gestured towards Jemma. (“But it’s Dove!”)

The chatters calmed into whispers as Koba’s point was considered. Margot stood on her toes. “Oh, I know!” She pointed behind Jemma’s back. “You got wings now!”

Graham cleared his throat. “...Yeah, why d’you have wings, Jemma?”