Elfen High 2: Skin to Bone, Steel to Rust

[AETEN II]

"I-i-diot. You c-c-n't kill wh-at isn't alive." Malal stuttered as he hauled himself off the ground, gripping the wound in his neck with his left hand and his sword in the right.

"Oh, but I can." Said the Hound, raising his hands into the air. Individual balls of lightning formed at the end of ever talon and tendril, swelling until they were the size of a football. The cracking energy caused the lights in the corridor to explode from over saturation, making only the balls of energy the only source of light. He was now but a spectre in the darkness, his presence only known by the illumination he himself created. Tendrils split apart and formed additional balls of energy, tearing into the walls and ceiling and floor. There were now hundreds of them. Arching the tentacles, the Hound screeched and threw them forward. The orbs of lightning exploded forward into waves of bolts, each wave so thick you could literally not see the space between the individual bolts.

Malal made a split-second decision when the bolts were thrown- electricity could be conducted, therefore his sword should act as a lightning rod. The demigod charged forward and flung the sword at the Shard, sending the blade deep into the creature's chest with a maelstorm of electric fury screaming behind it. Just before the lightning made contact with the hilt, Malal cackled weakly and attempted to hit the ground, but it was too late. The lightning made the jump to the hilt which triggered an electrical explosion- weaker than had the attack directly hit Malal, but it still burned like a superheated fire. Malal had always considered electricity to be his weakness for good reason, it bypassed his virtually invincible exoskeleton and made the jump into his unique biology, wreaking havoc upon his body. The fluid he used to transfer information between his eyes and the equivalent of his brain was boiled into vapor as a bolt arced from the electrocuted body of the Shard to his, slamming him down into the floor. The current then traveled down to the center of his body, hitting where it hurt most before it grounded to the floor and was sucked into the Earth.

The electric storm had finished, the majority of it was absorbed by the Shard which didn't look to good. It was currently a pile of smoking carbon that could be vaguely considered a corpse. Malal didn't exactly care about the state of it however, he doubted that it was dead or would stay in the smoking state for long, he long cared about the nasty case of heartburn he had. Literal heartburn. Or rather approximate. The arrangement of organs of an undead demon-y-ish demigod was different than most mortals. Malal didn't even know what he looked like in the inside. He also didn't want to know, and this was why he wanted to get him and Nyarla out of this room, ASAP. That would be tricky however seeing that he was blind until the liquid normally a liquid would return to its liquid state from the vapor that was condensing inside the tubes.

[The Nuclear Fist]

The Hound of Azathoth cursed itself for being so foolish as to underestimate his opponent. The Asgardians were a brutish, stupid pantheon, but they had enough tricks up their sleeves to make them a rather unsightly pain. This was evidenced by what had happened to the Hound's body. What had once been a literal spectre of destruction was now a smoking pile of charred remains, mostly ash and dried gore on the ground and walls. For several seconds, the Hound found himself wondering if his purpose had not been to destroy Nyarlathotep at all, but was instead simply to entertain the Great Old Ones, to watch him fight and massacre his supposed enemies and die horribly for their own sick pleasure. But this thought disippated as the warmth of Shub-Niggurath filled his inner being, delivering him a new form. The ashes and gore, scattered, now rapidly formed a core upon the ground, tendrils of black ash forming around it. The ash kicked into the air, creating a cloud of blackness, obscured by the thick smoke. The sound of bones popping into place, ligaments and sinews stretching, wet skin taking shape, threads coming together and forming clothing.

The smoke finally settling, the Hound stepped from the shroud that obscured him, brandishing the sword Malal had thrown at him. "I did not appreciate that, Asgardian." He said, voice cool and level, with the barest hint of annoyance. Thinking it would be quite fitting, the Hound funneled a massive amount of his power into his palm, causing the sword to crackle and spark with blue-white lightning. Arcs of electricity shot off of it, blowing holes into anything they struck. The Eldritch abomination strode forward, surging more and more power into the sword until the blade began to crack. Standing over the blind, wounded Asgardian, the Hound spoke once more.

"In the Prose Edda, Thor is slain by the Midgard Serpent upon the zenith of Ragnarok. The beast's great fangs pierced his breast, and the venom drowned him from within. It is only fitting that you, Malal, the bastard of the Norsemen, should meet your end at the hands of the Hound of Azathoth." Said the Hound, his voice determined and smug. He pointed the blade down at Malal's belly, faintest smile creeping upon his lips as he released the energy within the Asgardian's own sword. A pillar of lightning, half the size of the corridor, struck Malal, enveloping him in a bubble. The blast was so terrifying in power it quaked the ground itself, shaking debris loose. Arcs of energy struck outwards from the bubble, bathing everything they touches in red flames. Indeed, not even the Hound himself was immune, the roaring inferno singing parts of his face and clothing, and blowing off his hat. This blast of fury only grew more powerful, more intense, until the blade itself ruptured, exploding into a thousand pieces. The sudden release of energy caused the bubble to pop, sending a surge of lightning outwards. Knowing he had defeated his enemy, the Hound stepped over Malal, stopping only to turn around and place his foot upon the Asgardian's chest with much force, smashing through the floor and into the darkness below, to fall into the black chasms of Elfen High's basement.

Now with one enemy dealt with, the Hound turned to his target. It was convenient that the Asgardian had been vanquished before she become conscious once more, it would have been a headache to deal with them both simultaneously. Like trying to stomp on two small cats until they died. Certainly not a life or death issue, but it can be quite annoying. She rose from the rubble, much of her outfit dirty and tattered, showing patches of her dark, flawless skin. She rose her hands into the air as if signaling defeat. The Hound nodded, assuming the Outer God had acknowledged her better. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for Nyarla's case, this was not what he planned. Massive, stone tentacles erupted from the ground and walls, tipped with diamond stingers. The two that reached him first disintegrated into dust upon touching his form, the result of his power over creations of the Eldritch pantheon. The next two had the same fate. The Hound, now without the distraction of Nyarla's stone tentacles, closed the distance as a blur, gripping her throat and crushing it.

"Your reckoning is at hand, dear. Why must you fight me?" The Hound said, his voice warm and peaceful, almost paternal. Nyarla responded by belching a beam of energy into his face, scorching out his eyes. Using the moment of surprise to her advantage, another stone tendril exploded out of the ground, impaling him through the back of the neck, the tendril shot forwards, continuing to impale his wrist and pull it from Nyarla, causing his hand to slap the Hound in the face. Screeching in anger, the Hound staggered backwards, regaining his eyesight and healing moments later. Snarling, his eyes darted around, looking for Nyarlathotep. Suddenly, he heard a whistle. "C'mere, boy!" Nyarla said. Spinning on his heel, the Eldritch beast turned around, only to be met with the blast of a miniaturized star to the chest. The shot knocked him off of his feet, slamming him through a wall and causing a pile of rubble to avalanche upon him. Erupting from it only moments later, the Hound struck the place where Nyarla had been with a bolt of lightning, only to find she had disappeared once more.

"Your death will not be merciful!" The Hound screamed, only to suddenly have a boulder slamming onto his back. The beast shrugged it off, and in a split second, darted around with twin suns exploding into beams of destruction at the area the boulder had come from, only to see that she was, once more, no longer there. But luck was now on the Hound's side, as he heard the next attack coming. He spun around, turning the oncoming wave of diamond fragments and stone tendrils into dust with a wave of his hand. Nyarla, taken aback, was left open. Seeing his chance, the Hound burst forward, jamming his pointer and middle fingers into her eye sockets, hooking them upwards. Torrents of blood shot upon his hand as he lifted her up off her her feet, swinging her over his head and throwing her into the ground, cracking it. He raised his foot, prepared to stomp upon her skull. She looked up at his form, towering over his crumpled body. Before her was an angel of retribution, his chest and face obscured by the black smoke caused by the inferno around them. Only the blaze in his eyes pierced through the haze. As he brought his foot down, she put her arms out in front of her face for protection.

What happened next was most prominent. Nyarla felt his foot come down upon her forearms, snapping bones like they were twigs. She felt blood gush from her ears and nose and mouth and heard her skull pop as the Hound stomped upon her. Her jaw shattered, and one eye, having healed from the finger impalement, had dislodged itself from its socket, held on only by the thinnest of sinews. Ragged, smoke filled breaths burned her smashed nose as her remaining eye looked up. The first stomp had not quite done the trick, and indeed her dwindling reserves of energy still allowed her to very slowly heal. And so the Hound raised his mighty foot once more, bringing it down with all his might. The Outer God did not remember what happened next. She felt an agony unlike all she had felt before, and saw the world go black. She heard the wet crunch of her skull effectively disintegrating, her barest wisps of energy keeping her tethered to this world. But what she heard was far more shocking.

A great groaning sound, more powerful than a thousand beasts of burden, was followed by the floor buckling, and disappearing from under them. She felt herself falling, the scorching heat of the part of the school they were in, the part that was burning, give way to a cool, moist air. She winced and cursed as her near-useless body struck pillar and pipe alike, either denting, breaking through, or bouncing off of them. She descended this great chasm for what was only a minute or so, but what felt like an eternity. Finally, Nyarla struck the cold, stone floor of the basement, laying face first in a rising puddle of water and refuse from the busted pipes and cracked walls. Blood seeped from her ruined, crippled body and the world slipped away. She was not dead, no. But close to it. It would only be a matter of time until the Hound of Azathoth found her and killed her. And then, as if on some sort of cue, she heard a hiss inside her faltering mind. That familiar hiss, like static from a camera or a television. The signal of her Spawn. She had landed in the labyrinthine passages of the basement somewhere near it. And from what she felt from it, so had the Hound. Her last thought before she slipped into unconsciousness was that she wondered if it was the Spawn that he was here for, after all. And she had just been nearby.

The Hound had descended far more gracefully than Nyarlathotep. At first, it spiraled into the abyss. But he soon gained his bearings, leathery wings sprouting from his back. They weren't meant for flight, oh no. That much was obvious. But they were quite large in size, beating against the wind and slowing his descent greatly with each time. Half way down, he heard the sound of Nyarla striking various pipes and pillars, before finally hitting the stone floor with a loud splash. Water? The Hound thought, taking note. Finally his feet touched the ground, cold from the icy water. The wings upon his back atrophied and fell off, the flesh rotting rapidly until it was little more than dust floating on the surface. This basement is like a cavern. He thought, creating a ball of fire in his palm by igniting the oxygen, giving him some light. It was dark down there. Abnormally dark. Far darker than a basement should be. It was as if it was purposeful, as if all light was being snuffed purposely. He waded through the water, holding the ball of fire between both of his hands, squinting his eyes so that he could make out the shadows surrounding him.

And then he heard its voice in his head.

You caused quite a ruckus up there, you know.

Its monotone, without emotion and yet still mocking, slithered into his mind. It sounded like a little girl, but with a far more sinister thing pervading it.

"Who is down here?" The Hound asked, raising his palm into the air, the ball of fire swelling to the size of a desk. In front of him was a very bizarre looking creature. It stood almost two and a half metres tall. The thing was extremely pale, a pink-white colour, almost of flesh. But it was not quite flesh coloured, more of a poor imitation of flesh. It had no discernable facial features, save a grossly descended set of jaws, fangs the colour of alabaster. Spines and ridges protruded along its neck and backbone, its flesh hugging tight to its thin, skeletal frame. Its arms were exceedingly long, with the tip of its fingers nearly reaching its calves. Each finger was long and slender, tipped with a black talon. Its stood on the balls of its elongated feet, each toe ending in a heavy, hooked talon. Much like a bird. The top of its elongated skull was darker than the rest of its body. That is where it keeps its sensory organs. Thought the Hound. But what was most noticeable about the hunched creature in front of him was the psychic bubble it produced. He could not feel the presence of the Great Old Ones, as if he was being blocked from them. This thing must be the reason why Nyarla could not receive her orders. Not because of her own wishes, but because of this foul thing.

But what was most striking was the kinship the Hound felt with it. He felt this kinship with all the deities and creations of his pantheon. But with this thing, there was a deeper meaning. Something dark and twisted, something perverted. He could make out a murky depth of the thing's heart and could see only hatred. Not just for the Hound, but for Nyarlathotep. For the whole pantheon. For the Asgardians. For everyone and thing, including itself. He could see bits of its memories, of its conception. He could see the hulking Asgardian, who he now knew as Malal, and Nyarla wrapped around him. He could see the thing's birth, one of agony and neglect. The thing being tortured and beaten, tossed into the confines of this labyrinth and shackled with heavy chains and restraints. Unwittingly, its creators had twisted and mutated it. This was a being of hate, of envy and sadism and anger. An icy shiver went down his spine. This thing was an abomination, an affront to the natural order of things. And yet he could not bring himself to hate it.

Could you take these chains off? They locked me down here for so long, to hide their shame. It said into the Hound's mine, pleading him for mercy. It was a sad, wretched creature. One born of two pantheons and yet rejected by both. But perhaps it could be brought into the fold? These thoughts filled his head as the Hound slogged over to it, taking apart the shackles one at a time. Once he undid the heaviest chain around its neck, the being fell to the floor, a small splash as its hands and knees fell into the water. From its mind, he found that it was referred to as 'the Spawn'. He could hear the Spawn sobbing in his mind, the thing burying its nonexistent face in its hands. Feeling a tinge of sympathy for the wretched thing, the Hound bent over, his ear resting next to its mouth. He placed a hand around it in an awkward hug, patting its bag as a way of comforting it, hoping to wipe away its sadness.

"Do you weep for your freedom, Spawn?" He asked, voice warm and paternal.

I do not weep at all, fool. The Spawn said in his mind.

"What do you m-" He began, just as he felt an agonizing pain in his stomach. The feeling of blood gushing out washed over him. Turning to look over his shoulder, he realised he had fallen into its trap. Its talons had pierced through his stomach. It cackled as it brought its other hand up with blinding speed, smashing its palm into his face and enclosing its fingers around his skull, claws digging in. The Hound tried to break away, only to feel the hand thrust out of his belly. The next thing he new, his head was submerged in water, slammed into the stone floor. Over and over again it slammed the Hound's head into the floor, pausing only to hold it under water as it used its other hand to slash at his chest and gut. The moment of surprise finally gave way to rage as the Hound grabbed the Spawn's wrist, ripping it away from his throat. Using the momentum, he swung himself up and on top of it, pinning it underwater. Again and again he delivered savage blows to its head and chest, hoping to batter it to death. But just as he hoped to deliver a killing blow, the Spawn slipped its legs up and pressed its knees to its chest, putting its feet against the Hound's stomach. With a force he did not expect to come from such a thin figure, it shoved him away from it. In fact, it kicked him clear into the air, sending him slamming against a stone wall.

The Hound rapidly got his bearings, the wounds to his belly already having healed. He stood and braced himself, preparing to charge the thing. But it moved as fast as he did. As he raised a fist to smash it, he felt the thing's vice-like grip nearly crush his bicep and bone, as its powerful fist smashed into his face, shattering his cheekbone and smacking the back of his skull against the wall. He brought up his other hand to strike it, but was met only by the Spawn's snapping jaws, which quickly bit off three of his fingers, as well as much of his hand. Howling in pain, he smashed his forehead into it, causing it to stagger back. Seeing his chance, the Hound spread his arms and tackled it with all his might. He caused it to stagger back several more paces, but it was as if he had tackled a tree. The thing grabbed him and lifted him into the air, tossing him like he was nothing. The Hound felt himself go flying, smashing against a broken pipe. Looking down, he saw that it had impaled him through the stomach, leaving his suspended in the air. Most others would see this as a moment of critical failure.

The Hound saw it as an advantage.

The Spawn rushed forth, preparing to strike the wall so as to shake him down. But he had other plans. Great whirlwinds of frost and ice swirled around his hands, blasting the water the thing's feet were in and turning the whole of said water into ice. This caused the Spawn to jerk forward, slamming its face, chest, and arms into the open water. Next, great bolts of lightning struck the water from the Hound's hands, electrifying the surface and giving the Hound a terrible zap. The Spawn wailed in pain, tearing its feet free and running to the wall, hoping to end this little quarrel. But another bolt struck the water in front of it, electrocuting it and causing the abomination's body to go rigid, falling into the water. It flailed its limbs wildly as bolt after bolt came down, electrocuting it further. The thing screeched, rattling the pipe and jarring the Hound loose. But unfortunately, this was a part of the Hound's slapdash plan. A swirling vortex of energy surrounding his foot as he came down, an earsplitting crack quaking the basement as he stomped upon the Spawn's back. The sound of bones popping and teeth rattling could be heard from its form. Clearly, it was worse for wear, and had not expected this turn of events.

I'll put your teeth to the grindstone! It screeched inside his mind, swinging a mess of talons and raw strength wildly at his head. The Hound just barely dodged it, instead delivering a powerful left hook to the side of the Spawn's head, rocking its whole frame. I'll tear your heart from your breast! It howled, wildly swinging its other hand in a low strike, aimed at gutting his stomach. But once more, the Spawn had telegrammed that strike, and the Hound arched his torso backwards and dodged it with ease. Out of harm's way, he brought his powerful fists down like hammers, smashing into the back of the Spawn's head. The shock put it on its hands and knees. Wishing to exploit his opening, the Hound rose his foot high into the air. Just as the Spawn looked up, a powerful strike from his foot smashed into its face, sending it reeling backwards and onto its back. The Spawn wasted no time and sprang up, swinging its clawed hands. But its brazen, untrained ways were met only with pain, as the Hound had created a miniaturized, condensed sun in his palm, and slammed it into the Spawn's chest with all his might. The sound of bones snapping filled his ears and the smell of searing flesh filled his nose as this unexpected blast knocked it backwards once more, the abomination tumbling and falling ungracefully onto its stomach.

Blooded and bruised, the Spawn tried to scramble away to regroup and recover, but the mighty foot of the Hound of Azathoth smashed into the small of its back, pinning it to the ground. Desperate and fearing death, it attempted to claw its way out from under his foot, powerful hands pulling it forward and powerful feet pushing it forward. Not wanting to see his captured prey escape, the Hound wrapped his hand around its arms, thumbs digging into the thing's elbows, and pulled its arms back. The Spawn howled and screeched and cursed as the Hound wrenched its arms out of socket, rendering them useless. However, the Spawn believed this to be the extent of what it would do. How wrong it was. With a great heave, the Hound pulled up and backwards, tearing its arms from its shoulders. Blood made the water murky and the thing's banshee wails made his ears sting and ache. Still, its will would not be broken. It attempted to scramble free, feet talons digging into the ground and pushing it forwards. As punishment, he placed one foot on the back of its thigh, and then his other foot on the thing's other thigh. Grabbing the thing by its feet (and taking care not to cut himself), he twisted its legs, shattering bone and tearing cartilage. Having loosened them, he pulled with all his might, tearing its legs from it at the knees.

With all his might, he kicked it in the side, shattering ribs and putting it on its back once more. The thing looked up at him with its eyeless gaze, thrashing about like a fish out of water. The Hound sat upon its chest and brought down blow after punishing blow, smashing its face. The first blow knocked out the majority of its teeth. The second blow shattered its jaw. The third blow dented in its head, causing things the Hound would rather not wonder about to gush out on him. The fourth only dented it in further, causing the Spawn to finally stop writhing. Even after this catastrophic damage, a weak pulse could be felt from the Spawn's body. He could feel it, even on the cusp of death, probing his mind. Which was particularly odd, considering most of its mind was now staining his lap. Angrily and triumphantly, the Hound grabbed the elongated back of its head, making sure to keep it in a vice. He could feel this abomination weakly struggling against him, using its dying strength to put up some sort of a fight.

But I wanted to live! It shouted into his mind, just as he jerked his hand backwards, snapping its neck and severing the spinal cord in its neck. Incredibly, though, even after going through what would have killed all others, it did not die. The faintest hint of life still existed in its being. The Hound sighed, knowing that if he did not finish the job now, it would come to haunt him later. This thing's regeneration capabilities rivaled his own, and it would surely heal in a matter of days. And he would be forced to fight it all over again, something he did not wish to do. And thus, the Hound of Azathoth stood up, never loosening his grip on the back of its head. He placed his foot upon the Spawn's chest, and with a sickening sound, tore its head from its shoulders. The Hound of Azathoth stared at the thing where its eyes should be, watching the last vestiges of life dissipate from the Spawn until it was nothing but a corpse. Having bested the strongest adversary Earth had to offer him, the Hound spun around, now able to detect Nyarlathotep's presence. Faster than sound itself, the Hound of Azathoth dashed through the labyrinth, coming upon Nyarla's disheveled form several minutes later. She was clearly healing, although not at a rate to cause her to pose a threat to him. Her head was intact, although severely bruised and beaten, and the rest of her body was broken or otherwise fatigued, including one arm that was shattered beyond use. They both knew what was coming.

"So this is how I die?" She asked rhetorically, voice bitter.

"I am afraid so." Answered the Hound, fully aware of the fact that he wasn't supposed to answer.

"May I ask you a question?" She asked, spitting blood. She was out of energy, her host's body overloaded and unable to support her ultimately parasitic existence much longer.

"But of course." Answered the Hound.

"Was this all worth it? The destruction and death?"

The Hound sighed. "I do not hate you, Nyarlathotep. At least, no longer. You did not wish to ignore your masters, you are as much a victim of circumstance as I am your assassin of circumstance. I am merely following orders." He explained.

"So I take it to mean my child is dead?"

"I am afraid so." He said truthfully.

"I see. Knowing what you now know, could you see it in your heart to spare me?" She asked, bitterly aware of the answer.

"You know I cannot do that." He said, his tone one of understanding.

"I just thought I should ask. Now, let's get this over with." Nyarlathotep said, using her good arm to tear open her shirt, revealing her bare, dark skin. She tapped her chest, right where her heart was.

"I wish for a merciful death, if you don't mind." She said.

"Your wish is granted." The Hound responded. He raised his hand, his fingers sharpening to a point and becoming black. They extended, becoming tendrils. Before Nyarla could even close her eyes and take a final breath, the Hound's tendril fingers shot out. Three stabbed through her chest, piercing her heart. Another struck her through the eye, stabbing into her brain stem. The last finger pierced her forehead, tearing through her frontal lobes and penetrating the very centre of her brain. Small trickles of blood spilled out from her head wounds, forming small streams that congregated on her chin. Drops of blood dripped onto her chest, sliding down into her navel. "T-thank. . . you." She mouthed, blood spilling over her full lips. The tendrils receded from her body, his hand turning back to normal. The Hound looked up through the gaping, tunnel-like hole in the ceiling. He had completed his goal. He had slain the Spawn, he had slain Nyarlathotep. And yet, he felt no joy from completing his purpose for existence. Indeed, he felt a terrible sorrow grip his heart. He had carved a path of destruction through this school. He had nearly slain a youth with a ball of lightning, he had nearly slain an Asgardian. He killed a tortured, warped child in cold blood, and he had killed her mother, even when she was no threat and asked for her life to be spared. He knew he should feel good for completing the task at hand, but he did not.

He raised his hands to the heavens, tears cascading down from his cheeks as he slowly rose into the air. Azathoth was beckoning. The Hound's short existence was now at an end. He heard the glorious music of pipers and trumpets playing, the angelic chanting of Azathoth's court, as he rose into the air. He opened his mouth wide, and a yell pierced the air as his parasitic essence was quite literally ripped from his host's body. He ascended through the school and into the heavens at a speed dwarfing the speed of light, rising until he reached that familiar tear in reality. His host's body fell from the air, rapidly withering to little more than a skeleton in withered clothing as it submerged in the basement's water. There no longer was a Hound of Azathoth. He had achieved what he had been sent to do, and his reward was the snuffing of his life. It was a cruel way to end it all, but thus was the way of a cruel universe, and a cruel pantheon led by uncaring gods.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley conviently appeared at Elfen High's cafeteria at the same time Minh and the bear crew's plane landed in the New Delhi airport. "What the hell happened here?" Crowley snapped at Richard.

"I told you, the Hound-"

"Oh right. I'll look at the tapes later. Bound to be interesting things there. But the Hound's not a concern."

"Aren't you worried it'll come bac-"

"Nah, I can generally predict the Outer Gods. They follow some basic laws, even if they don't make sense to us. The Hound does what it has to do, and not much more. I don't know why it wanted Nylara, but it was likely for the Spawn- which I assume is dead. I guessed a Hound or some similar being would come to handle the situation. It's beyond our hands now and no sense worrying. Anyone dead?"

"Just the Spawn and a lot of collateral damage, James and Malal nearly died, Nylara's dead-"

"That's no issue, that stuff can be fixed. Pity on Nylara though. She was a good warrior and a powerful one, despite her other failings." But Crowley shrugged. "What you gonna do?"

"Sir? This is Minh." said a voice over the walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, what?"

"We're in New Delhi now, meeting with some of the Indian Military Command. Your presence would be recommended." spoke the half-orc man.

Crowley nodded. "Alrighty then. Let's go. Richard, handle the situation here for a bit." he said, vanishing into thin air and reappearing in the supposedly secure military building.
-------------------------------------------------
"You understand we have heavy security here, your Mr. Crowley will have to go through various checkpoints and the like in order to-" Defence Minister A.K Khan was saying in accented English when a British man appeared sitting in an empty chair.

"Told you so." Minh said dryly. "Hello, sir."

Khan rubbed his temples. "Alright. Whatever. I'll go with it. Mr. Jameson, Mr. Seward, Mr. Taka, Mr. Crowley...and some bear acquittances." he noted, looking at some of the bear guards Lewis had insisted on bringing in. "What do you need from the Indian Military? Why should we give you our support?"

"Pretty simple- we're going to attack Hell and Azazel directly." Crowley said cheerfully.

"...Why."

"Because first of all, they kidnapped sixty of our students."

"Not our concerns, we're watching the Pakistani border-"

"Second of all, they are being backed by ancient eldritch abominations called the True Fae who wish to destroy all of the universe and existence as we know it."

"...Perhaps we could re-evaluate our priorities. Alright. We'll support you. But we need something from you first." Khan said, standing up. "A team of ours was exploring Hell, a hushed up project since no nation is technically supposed to do that under that UN ruling they made a while back. But India's a powerful country, and like all powerful countries we've been doing it anyway. We were investigating strange behaviour by the demons near an area which we called Makara's Bay. It borders one of Hell's oceans and has settlements near it, though the demons and our own troops didn't explore much in the water itself- the wildlife, like the krakens-"

"I knew my biology lessons would be useful." Minh chuckled.

"-are highly dangerous and too much of a risk. But recently..." Khan frowned. "Every demon near that bay disappeared overnight. Every last one of them vanished. And we saw angels- not from Heavensgate, but angels who opened a portal from Heaven itself and entered the water. Vidur Singh, leader of this exploratory team, reported this to us and then stated he would be going underwater to see what was going on."

Crowley frowned. "I can bet you want us to rescue him, but he's probably dead by now. Why do you care?"

"It's not him- though that would be a bonus- it's something bigger. Vidur did go into the ocean in one of our experimental and highly effective submarines, co-made with the Russian and Israeli militaries. And then he sent back a message."

He placed a phone on the table and pressed a button. A recording played out, a man speaking in Punjabi-accented English. "We got down there...oh God....there's a city here, a whole bloody city. We have no way to return to the surface...the demons are alive, I see them...WE FOUND ATLANTIS, GET US OUT!" The recording stopped there.

Crowley paused. "Atlantis? That sank thousands of years ago. I remember, Sobek was a coward and tried to escape the war, so he sank the city. A city full of...weapons..." Crowley spoke slowly.

Khan nodded. "Yes. So you see why we need to make sure that we can get to the city, perhaps use it's considerable resources. It's an armory. A giant armoury. And we need to know why Uriel's angels are so interested."

[Olthar]

After a while, Sari-chan skipped out of the cafeteria, obliviously ignoring all the damage everywhere. She hummed to herself as she hopped down the hall, eventually coming upon a large hole leading to the basement. She stared at it for several moments before her face brightened up.

"How convenient! Maybe I should ask Crowley-sensei to install these all around the school!"

Giggling, she hopped down into the hole before skipping off towards the section of the basement where the rats and bunnies were. Reaching down her shirt, Sari-chan pulled out an impossibly large plate with thousands of cookies piled on top of it, still warm from the oven.

"Come and get it!" she yelled out before setting the plate down on the floor.

She then moved through the swarm of critters, placing several more plates around the room for the animals to crowd around. Afterwards, she walked over to Apple-chan and Randan and personally gave them each a cookie. She smiled before chowing down on a cookie, herself.

[Nude East Ireland]

"We know why cunt-wing's angels are interested!" Damien yelled. He kicked a chair out of the way, but it had the words 'Seward Trading Organization' inscribed on it, so it was technically his. "The fucker wants big guns to kill us, and then Azazel, all for his Big Fat Daddy. I say we go there, save your little buttmonkey man, and take the weapons for ourselves to use against Azazel, and then Uriel. There's no thinking involved, it's just a battle to get weapons and an upper hand in a huge war. But I love weapons. And if I get a sword that can kill Angels, I'm sure as fuck using it. Er, nevermind... Let's just get back to the school and prepare the bunnies for the fight."

Damien patted Kahn's shoulder. "Tell the President I said 'Hello,' by the way. Also, the son of a bitch owes me a few beers for the loans and the 'accidental' weapons malfunction that happened in Pakistan a few years ago. It's always fun to destroy government buildings, but I still need some kind of payment."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Crowley conviently appeared at Elfen High's cafeteria at the same time Minh and the bear crew's plane landed in the New Delhi airport. "What the hell happened here?" Crowley snapped at Richard.

"I told you, the Hound-"

"Oh right. I'll look at the tapes later. Bound to be interesting things there. But the Hound's not a concern."

"Aren't you worried it'll come bac-"

"Nah, I can generally predict the Outer Gods. They follow some basic laws, even if they don't make sense to us. The Hound does what it has to do, and not much more. I don't know why it wanted Nylara, but it was likely for the Spawn- which I assume is dead. I guessed a Hound or some similar being would come to handle the situation. It's beyond our hands now and no sense worrying. Anyone dead?"

"Just the Spawn and a lot of collateral damage, James and Malal nearly died, Nylara's dead-"

"That's no issue, that stuff can be fixed. Pity on Nylara though. She was a good warrior and a powerful one, despite her other failings." But Crowley shrugged. "What you gonna do?"

"Sir? This is Minh." said a voice over the walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, what?"

"We're in New Delhi now, meeting with some of the Indian Military Command. Your presence would be recommended." spoke the half-orc man.

Crowley nodded. "Alrighty then. Let's go. Richard, handle the situation here for a bit." he said, vanishing into thin air and reappearing in the supposedly secure military building.
-------------------------------------------------
"You understand we have heavy security here, your Mr. Crowley will have to go through various checkpoints and the like in order to-" Defence Minister A.K Khan was saying in accented English when a British man appeared sitting in an empty chair.

"Told you so." Minh said dryly. "Hello, sir."

Khan rubbed his temples. "Alright. Whatever. I'll go with it. Mr. Jameson, Mr. Seward, Mr. Taka, Mr. Crowley...and some bear acquittances." he noted, looking at some of the bear guards Lewis had insisted on bringing in. "What do you need from the Indian Military? Why should we give you our support?"

"Pretty simple- we're going to attack Hell and Azazel directly." Crowley said cheerfully.

"...Why."

"Because first of all, they kidnapped sixty of our students."

"Not our concerns, we're watching the Pakistani border-"

"Second of all, they are being backed by ancient eldritch abominations called the True Fae who wish to destroy all of the universe and existence as we know it."

"...Perhaps we could re-evaluate our priorities. Alright. We'll support you. But we need something from you first." Khan said, standing up. "A team of ours was exploring Hell, a hushed up project since no nation is technically supposed to do that under that UN ruling they made a while back. But India's a powerful country, and like all powerful countries we've been doing it anyway. We were investigating strange behaviour by the demons near an area which we called Makara's Bay. It borders one of Hell's oceans and has settlements near it, though the demons and our own troops didn't explore much in the water itself- the wildlife, like the krakens-"

"I knew my biology lessons would be useful." Minh chuckled.

"-are highly dangerous and too much of a risk. But recently..." Khan frowned. "Every demon near that bay disappeared overnight. Every last one of them vanished. And we saw angels- not from Heavensgate, but angels who opened a portal from Heaven itself and entered the water. Vidur Singh, leader of this exploratory team, reported this to us and then stated he would be going underwater to see what was going on."

Crowley frowned. "I can bet you want us to rescue him, but he's probably dead by now. Why do you care?"

"It's not him- though that would be a bonus- it's something bigger. Vidur did go into the ocean in one of our experimental and highly effective submarines, co-made with the Russian and Israeli militaries. And then he sent back a message."

He placed a phone on the table and pressed a button. A recording played out, a man speaking in Punjabi-accented English. "We got down there...oh God....there's a city here, a whole bloody city. We have no way to return to the surface...the demons are alive, I see them...WE FOUND ATLANTIS, GET US OUT!" The recording stopped there.

Crowley paused. "Atlantis? That sank thousands of years ago. I remember, Sobek was a coward and tried to escape the war, so he sank the city. A city full of...weapons..." Crowley spoke slowly.

Khan nodded. "Yes. So you see why we need to make sure that we can get to the city, perhaps use it's considerable resources. It's an armory. A giant armoury. And we need to know why Uriel's angels are so interested."

Lewis stared blankly at Khan, who he had at first mistaken for Osama bin Laden without a beard, which had been a stressful few minutes before an exasperated bear had explained to him that he was a racist moron. He was still pretty sure that Khan was part of the Taliban, though.

"Isn't an atlantis some kind of spear-chuckin' thing?" Lewis asked, "But if it's underwater and killed some of your men, it's probably chuckin' a bit more than spears. I have to ask, though, why do these 'Feigns' need weapons? Aren't they stronger than gods? I would think they could shoot death rays out of their asses or somethin'. I understand why the angels want it, but not Azazel, not when he's buddy-buddy with Cthulu - don't tell Nylara I said that, may she burn in Hell.

I guess the angels are with Azazel, which should surprise no one."

"Why?" asked one of the two bodyguards, the same bear who had been partnered with Mountainfire, "I do not pretend to have a great gasp of angelic politics, but it is to my understanding that they despise the demons, Uriel especially. I may be mistaken, but surely they would not side with them?

Azazel must have something Uriel wants."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ciel simply raised an eyebrow at Lazrian. "Elfen High is going to jump head-first into a war that will decide the fate of many worlds, including ours, against the True Fae and the Demons loyal to Azazel, and for that purpose, Crowley, Lewis and their friends and comrades are recruiting soldiers from all over the world to assist in the war effort in order to give us an actual chance of victory. And yet you say that helping recruit others in order to help as well is something useless. I am not sure what logic you follow, but I am certain it does not seem logical to me." She said.

She then witnessed the scene with Crowley and Richard, before the former teleported away. Having overheard things, she walked over to Richard.

"Sir, since you are in charge for the time being, I thought it would be wise to tell you that the rat-demons from the deeper reaches of the school-monster have decided to join us in the war against Azazel. They are in the basement with Sarina's bunnies." She explained.

[Hetland 2]

Frida was just about to answer James when she heard Maria screaming. Rather than simply disappear at once she decided to leave an illusion of herself standing in the place where she had previously been standing and teleported out of the room. Heart beating fast she started running towards the sound but had to quickly teleport out of the way as some sort of thing came crashing through a wall not too far away. The illusion had probably already faded as Frida was unable to concentrate but she didn't much care. The only thing that she could think about was finding Maria.
This proved to be a little easier than she had first imagined as she quickly realised that the most likely cause of Marias predicament would be the beast that she had encountered earlier, and since that beast had left a pretty clear track to follow Frida came upon the women's restroom pretty fast. There she found Maria in a rather sorry predicament.
Without thinking much she run up to Maria called out.
"Maria! Are you ok?"
However, Maria remained unresponsive. Starting to panic slightly, Frida examined her quickly. She didn't seem to have any serious injuries though so Frida gave out a sigh of relief. Picking Maria up in her arms she quickly began making her way towards the infirmary, cautious of anything dangerous.

Maria shivered as Frida set her down on the infirmary bed, her eyes fluttering open and a blurry vision of Frida swam into focus. She let out a small squeak and hugged Frida, the horrible eyes of that monster burned into her mind. She cried into Frida's chest as she noticed a distinct odor coming from her underwear. She let out an embarrassed yelp and pushed Frida away and curled up into a ball in the corner. "How awful..." She sobbed harder into her legs, "I did it again...Why do I always have to wet myself! Why can't I be cool like everyone else..."

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James came to a little while after crashing into Yuzuki's car, and his thoughts immediately went to the intruder. What the Hell is he, and what does he want with Nyarla? He asked himself as he struggled to his feet. Also, how the fuck did I end up on the floor of the garage? He got to his feet, wincing as every muscle in his body screamed at him in pain. Whatever it is, Jade will never forgive me if Nyarla gets hurt, and if anything could kill an Outer God or whatever she is, it's that guy. Besides, nobody fucks with a Callahan. He started limping for the door, then heard the crashing of Nyarla and the Hound through the floor. He picked up speed, although was still limping very slowly, trying to get there. Then he heard the screaming.

Tracking the screaming, he charged into the basement. "NYARLA!" He called out repeatedly, looking through the rubble, clawing through it, hoping against hope that she was still alive somewhere, fighting off his own pain and weariness. Until finally, he found her body trapped under a rather large piece of collapsed floor. He tried to get the rubble off of her, but knew the moment he saw the body that she was dead. Finally, with his energy drained, he collapsed to his knees beside her, and removed a single gold bracelet from her right wrist, so that he could at least bring something back up with him for Jade.

He climbed out of the hole and spotted Jade, Ivy, and Ellywick. Ignoring the latter two, he hobbled over to Jade and handed her the bracelet. "I'm sorry..." Was all he could say, his own sadness for Jade causing his voice to crack a little bit.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Richard didn't bat an eye. "Of course. Rat demons. What else is new?" he sighed. "Alright, I'll go down there and check it out. How did you find these rat demons?" he asked Ciel, trotting downstairs slowly, expecting the girl to follow.

Daisuke meanwhile wheeled himself over to the group, having stayed out of the way during the Hound's rampage. "Did you guys get Thor?" he asked bluntly to Ellywick and the rest. "Also, glad you guys are safe. Man, shit went down here, but just Nylara and Malal were killed." Before you bitch, Daisy thinks Malal was killed as he has no evidence to the contrary. "Still...damn."
----------------------------------------
Crowley nodded. 'Uriel's insane and needs to put down. But we can't do that just yet. I wager that attacking Uriel would be suicidal beyond belief. Rumour has it that Uriel managed to single handedly defeat both the armies of Zeus and Poseidon in the old times when they were encroaching on Heaven's territory."

Khan brightened up. "But that's just rumour, right?"

"Correct. We're pretty sure that Zeus and Poesidon were also there fighting alongside their armies and they hid that fact so they didn't look bad." A bit of a depressed silence. "Time like this is when we could use Michael. Michael was a force to be reckoned with, alright." he sighed, placing his hands on his head. "But whatever. We don't have that luxury. We need to get to the bottom of Makara's Bay. Khan, I'll teleport your submarine to Elfen High where we'll improve the design and set out as soon as possible. Since this is Atlantis, we'll take a lot of our students and some of your soldiers as well. I have no idea what will be down there, I'll be candid with you."

[The Inritus Extraho]

James came to a little while after crashing into Yuzuki's car, and his thoughts immediately went to the intruder. What the Hell is he, and what does he want with Nyarla? He asked himself as he struggled to his feet. Also, how the fuck did I end up on the floor of the garage? He got to his feet, wincing as every muscle in his body screamed at him in pain. Whatever it is, Jade will never forgive me if Nyarla gets hurt, and if anything could kill an Outer God or whatever she is, it's that guy. Besides, nobody fucks with a Callahan. He started limping for the door, then heard the crashing of Nyarla and the Hound through the floor. He picked up speed, although was still limping very slowly, trying to get there. Then he heard the screaming.

Tracking the screaming, he charged into the basement. "NYARLA!" He called out repeatedly, looking through the rubble, clawing through it, hoping against hope that she was still alive somewhere, fighting off his own pain and weariness. Until finally, he found her only remain, a simple gold bracelet she wore on her right wrist. He picked it up and continued searching for a couple more minutes, before finally accepting the truth and giving up.

He climbed out of the hole and spotted Jade, Ivy, and Ellywick. Ignoring the latter two, he hobbled over to Jade and handed her the bracelet. "I'm sorry..." Was all he could say, his own sadness for Jade causing his voice to crack a little bit.

Jade nodded sadly, and took the bracelet, slipping it into a pocket on her side. She then took a breath, and nodded slowly. "Well... I'm sure that it must have been worth it." She felt a profound sadness, though, as if she had lost more than just Nyarla. Almost as if she had lost a sibling as well. "Wait, were you in the basement?" she asked him, before leaping down herself, following Nyarla and the Hound's path, then searching through the rubble herself, flinching each time she found a piece of metal. A broken link. A shattered cuff. A smashed manacle. "It came for that..." she whispered to herself.

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James came to a little while after crashing into Yuzuki's car, and his thoughts immediately went to the intruder. What the Hell is he, and what does he want with Nyarla? He asked himself as he struggled to his feet. Also, how the fuck did I end up on the floor of the garage? He got to his feet, wincing as every muscle in his body screamed at him in pain. Whatever it is, Jade will never forgive me if Nyarla gets hurt, and if anything could kill an Outer God or whatever she is, it's that guy. Besides, nobody fucks with a Callahan. He started limping for the door, then heard the crashing of Nyarla and the Hound through the floor. He picked up speed, although was still limping very slowly, trying to get there. Then he heard the screaming.

Tracking the screaming, he charged into the basement. "NYARLA!" He called out repeatedly, looking through the rubble, clawing through it, hoping against hope that she was still alive somewhere, fighting off his own pain and weariness. Until finally, he found her only remain, a simple gold bracelet she wore on her right wrist. He picked it up and continued searching for a couple more minutes, before finally accepting the truth and giving up.

He climbed out of the hole and spotted Jade, Ivy, and Ellywick. Ignoring the latter two, he hobbled over to Jade and handed her the bracelet. "I'm sorry..." Was all he could say, his own sadness for Jade causing his voice to crack a little bit.

Jade nodded sadly, and took the bracelet, slipping it into a pocket on her side. She then took a breath, and nodded slowly. "Well... I'm sure that it must have been worth it." She felt a profound sadness, though, as if she had lost more than just Nyarla. Almost as if she had lost a sibling as well. "Wait, were you in the basement?" she asked him, before leaping down herself, following Nyarla and the Hound's path, then searching through the rubble herself, flinching each time she found a piece of metal. A broken link. A shattered cuff. A smashed manacle. "It came for that..." she whispered to herself.

James followed her down, slipping on the rubble and faceplanting onto the hard stone floor. He got up and dusted himself off. "Came for what?" He asked, curious. "Was something down here?" He approached Jade hesitantly, worried she might lash out at him. She had taken the death of her lover pretty well. Maybe... Maybe I was wrong... He began to admit to himself, becoming even more worried.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Richard descended the steps and glanced at the rats and rabbits, cooperating together. "So how good are these guys as warriors?" he asked Ciel.

"Quite well, if I do say so myself." Randan said, standing up and walking forward. "Randan, pack leader, at your service." he nodded, extending a hand in a strangely human-like way. Richard took it in stride and shook.

"Richard Erwin. School janitor. How did you come to join our forces?"

"Simple. Mutual hatred of a mutual foe. Azazel must die and I would like to be there at the grave." Randan said solemnly. "You have a good trainer in Sarina. She is quite skilled and I believe we can make this an effective army in a few lunar cycles."

"Months." Richard corrected. "We call them months now."

Randan shrugged. "Whatever. You understood my meaning."

Richard turned toward Sari. "Sari, how have you been? What's your opinion on our army?"

[Olthar]

Sari-chan spun around as Richard entered the basement and listened to his short conversation with Randan. When he asked her a question, she quickly responded.

"I dunno, Richie-chan. They're pretty good, I guess. Some more training time would certainly help. You don't happen to know when we're going, do you? Oh, by the way, do you want a cookie?"

Stuffing her hand down her shirt, Sari-chan dug around for a few moments before pulling out a lump of orange misery with a rather disconcerting ear popping out of the side.

"I have a couple more left over after giving them to the bunnies and rats," she commented, handing the thing over.

Pulling out another one, she handed it to Ciel, "You can have one too!"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Richard took a bite. He chewed. "Eh. Needs more salt." he said, swallowing it down. After being a janitor here for more years than he could remember, things didn't upset his stomach anymore. He had an iron digestion system at this point. He nodded to Sari. "Keep up the good work then." he said, walking back upstairs- then stopping when Crowley teleported in, along with Minh, Lewis and Damien. "We got the Indian Government on our side and-" He paused. "Hold on a moment."

Sari, Ciel, Richard and Crowley's diplomatic pals teleported into the cafetaria, where most people seemed to be. "Alright guys." Crowley said, addressing everyone. "Who likes swimming? Pick your gear. We're going down to Atlantis. Pierre, get your lazy ass over here, we'll need you. Ivy, I need you as well, Uriel is down there, or at least his servants. Laz? It's in Hell. Uriel's there. I think you'll enjoy killing him. Ellywick, Daisy-chan?" Daisy burned with quiet fury at that nickname. "I brought a submarine. Look in our swimming pool. Fix it up to be ready to fight krakens and the like. Rest of you? Pack your stuff. We're going tomorrow."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Richard took a bite. He chewed. "Eh. Needs more salt." he said, swallowing it down. After being a janitor here for more years than he could remember, things didn't upset his stomach anymore. He had an iron digestion system at this point. He nodded to Sari. "Keep up the good work then." he said, walking back upstairs- then stopping when Crowley teleported in, along with Minh, Lewis and Damien. "We got the Indian Government on our side and-" He paused. "Hold on a moment."

Sari, Ciel, Richard and Crowley's diplomatic pals teleported into the cafetaria, where most people seemed to be. "Alright guys." Crowley said, addressing everyone. "Who likes swimming? Pick your gear. We're going down to Atlantis. Pierre, get your lazy ass over here, we'll need you. Ivy, I need you as well, Uriel is down there, or at least his servants. Laz? It's in Hell. Uriel's there. I think you'll enjoy killing him. Ellywick, Daisy-chan?" Daisy burned with quiet fury at that nickname. "I brought a submarine. Look in our swimming pool. Fix it up to be ready to fight krakens and the like. Rest of you? Pack your stuff. We're going tomorrow."

"Crowley, do ye' think Richard could watch over the bears?" Lewis asked, "They'll be here tomorrow mornin' and I'd rather not be here when they get here. They don't like me so much, so I'd rather let them cook in the school for a little bit and get used to the place before I show up and try to win their trust. Besides, I kinda' want to see this 'Atlatl' place - Megan's been askin' me to bring Rosalind a souvenir and I figure an ancient superweapon would be best."

[The Inritus Extraho]

Jade nodded sadly, and took the bracelet, slipping it into a pocket on her side. She then took a breath, and nodded slowly. "Well... I'm sure that it must have been worth it." She felt a profound sadness, though, as if she had lost more than just Nyarla. Almost as if she had lost a sibling as well. "Wait, were you in the basement?" she asked him, before leaping down herself, following Nyarla and the Hound's path, then searching through the rubble herself, flinching each time she found a piece of metal. A broken link. A shattered cuff. A smashed manacle. "It came for that..." she whispered to herself.

James followed her down, slipping on the rubble and faceplanting onto the hard stone floor. He got up and dusted himself off. "Came for what?" He asked, curious. "Was something down here?" He approached Jade hesitantly, worried she might lash out at him. She had taken the death of her lover pretty well. Maybe... Maybe I was wrong... He began to admit to himself, becoming even more worried.

"Something..." she muttered, and began clawing through the rubble, large troughs being sifted through by weaves of force on her hands, ripping through and crushing the stone to powder, shredding the pipes in the way, searching. "If it was here..." she continued. "OF COURSE!" she roared at James, hearing his question. "W-why else would she be down here..." She tried to find a reason to justify Nyarla's presence without revealing the spawn - who knows if it would get James in trouble the same way it got Malal in trouble. "S-sh-she wouldn't be dead for no reason." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then looked down, blinking before she realized she was toying with the elaborate golden bracelet. She must have pulled it out of her pocket. "Her and Malal both... there must be a reason..." She slipped the bracelet on, noting that it fitted her wrist just fine, and then stood up. "There must be a reason." She raised both arms above her head, and all of the scoops of force around her curled up, then exploded outwards, blowing all of the dirt, dust, and shards of metal away. Left were two things. The body of... No, she wouldn't look at that one yet.

The other was the Spawn. It had horrific wounds, wounds that were in the process of closing even now, despite its death, frozen as they had healed. She stepped over to it, and ran a hand across its extended jaw... almost lovingly. She cared about it, she realized. It felt like a brother to her, and yet, she didn't know why. For him, it was nothing. a voice echoed in her head, and she shook the memory away. She pulled her hand back, and then brought up swirling clouds of dust contained within the balls of force she had used to clear that same dust with. She passed it over the things body, packing the dust into those wounds, and then letting the dust settle, seemingly making it whole again. It was the least she could do for the Spawn, she supposed. She turned away, and rose her hand as she looked at Nyarla, half-covering her face, and for an instant, she saw her hand as the claw of the Spawn. She shook herself again. "N-no, nothing's wrong."

She stepped over cautiously, and then knelt by Nyarla's side. She bent over, and brushed the corpse's eyes closed, and the sat, shaking slightly, facing the wall, barely a foot from it, where Nyarlathotep's corpse had landed. If someone could have seen her face, they would have seen shining tears streaming down her cheeks... but she still simply sat there, silent yet shaking, still and yet crying.

[Olthar]

Sari-chan walked up to Crowley and lightly tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

"Um, Crowley-sensei? What's an 'Atlantis?' Is it a type of food? Can I eat it?" she asked in complete seriousness, "Is it a fish, since there's swimming involved? Do I have to catch the 'Atlantis' before I can eat it? I'm really hungry. Why do I have to wait until tomorrow to eat the 'Atlantis?' Can't I go catch it now?"

She looked up at him with expectant and somewhat sad eyes, disappointed at having to wait to eat her meal.

[Ameriganastan]

Ciel simply raised an eyebrow at Lazrian. "Elfen High is going to jump head-first into a war that will decide the fate of many worlds, including ours, against the True Fae and the Demons loyal to Azazel, and for that purpose, Crowley, Lewis and their friends and comrades are recruiting soldiers from all over the world to assist in the war effort in order to give us an actual chance of victory. And yet you say that helping recruit others in order to help as well is something useless. I am not sure what logic you follow, but I am certain it does not seem logical to me." She said.

She then witnessed the scene with Crowley and Richard, before the former teleported away. Having overheard things, she walked over to Richard.

"Sir, since you are in charge for the time being, I thought it would be wise to tell you that the rat-demons from the deeper reaches of the school-monster have decided to join us in the war against Azazel. They are in the basement with Sarina's bunnies." She explained.

"I follow the logic of awesome."

He jumped up on the counter, and flexed for reasons that eluded the sane.

"I'm a one demon wrecking machine. Utterly awesome in almost every way. And I'm especially awesome at killing. So, feel free to wrangle up as many suckers as you please."

He hopped down, and smacked her on the ass for good measure.

"I'll be doing my usual awesome thing without the need to recruit people."

[AETEN II]

Malal groaned as awoke, wishing that he was anything but alive. He knew the series of events that must have unfolded upon his fall- Nyarla was most certainly defeated. He had failed, he knew there was never a chance of victory against such a creature, defeat was inevitable. He had still failed however, and had failed Nyarla. As she was a deity, he knew that she was still alive somewhere, the chances that it was a pleasant one were unlikely. Her state of being was likely more bearable than his at the moment, while pain had little affect on him, guilt did. He was used to pain- he had endured vast amounts as a child during meaningless missions that Loki sent him on. He also was used to mental anguish as well as he had endured such torture as well, but guilt, guilt was horrible. It was the only thing that truthfully broke through his armor that existed both physically as his exoskeleton and the mental fortress that he had constructed in his mind. The guilt made him wish he was dead, truly dead. Not reincarnated, not reborn, just dead, embraced by sweet oblivion. Such a fate would be denied however, as other greater beings seemingly had plans for him.

Teleportation was a distinct feeling. Once minute you where there, suddenly you were somewhere else. Of course, Malal could only make a crude guess as the fluid used to transfer information was vapor. He was blind and crippled. Normally, such a combination of states did not bode well for one's survival, and normally Malal would have been slightly frightened of what was yet to come. He no longer cared however, and it was likely that some omnipotent being teleported him somewhere just to kill him. That would be a waste of effort. No, it was likely to protect him. Nyarla's last will possibly? It was a nice thought. He knew she cared for him, but such corrupted creatures as them weren't known for pouring their hearts out.

"Anyone home?" Malal asked weakly as he felt the vapor starting to condense back into a liquid in his optical 'veins'.

[Ende]

Richard took a bite. He chewed. "Eh. Needs more salt." he said, swallowing it down. After being a janitor here for more years than he could remember, things didn't upset his stomach anymore. He had an iron digestion system at this point. He nodded to Sari. "Keep up the good work then." he said, walking back upstairs- then stopping when Crowley teleported in, along with Minh, Lewis and Damien. "We got the Indian Government on our side and-" He paused. "Hold on a moment."

Sari, Ciel, Richard and Crowley's diplomatic pals teleported into the cafetaria, where most people seemed to be. "Alright guys." Crowley said, addressing everyone. "Who likes swimming? Pick your gear. We're going down to Atlantis. Pierre, get your lazy ass over here, we'll need you. Ivy, I need you as well, Uriel is down there, or at least his servants. Laz? It's in Hell. Uriel's there. I think you'll enjoy killing him. Ellywick, Daisy-chan?" Daisy burned with quiet fury at that nickname. "I brought a submarine. Look in our swimming pool. Fix it up to be ready to fight krakens and the like. Rest of you? Pack your stuff. We're going tomorrow."

Pierre, who was wandering through the cafeteria at the time, dropped his plate on the floor. It landed with a crack, splintering into several shards, scattering over the floor. He looked over at Crowley.

"You'll need me? In Hell? I-I'm really not sure what use I can be."

Inwardly, he froze. The past week had been terrible. He had spent most of his time wandering aimlessly around the school. He didn't want to be here. The place had been attacked by killer robots in the last month. That was bad enough. Frankly, he should have left at that. Of course, as if this wasn't enough, some Outer God tool had shown up just a few hours ago and killed Nyarla and Malal. The war hadn't even begun, and this place was already dangerous enough. Malal was tough. He could withstand almost anything. Plus, Nyarla was some sort of minor deity at the least, and they were both dead.

If they could die, he could die. And they died here. He had been planning on leaving, but, no, he had stayed because of Laz, and inwardly, it was messing with him. On one hand, he felt like a miserable, grovelling coward. What kind of a man hid while his friends went to fight? He was pathetic. Weak. A failure. But, on the other hand, why did that matter? Why was being a coward a bad thing at all? It didn't matter, as long as he was still alive. And, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

And, of course, Crowley wanted to drag him back to Hell, one of the most dangerous places in all of existence. He was silent for a few moments, and then repeated himself.

"I'm not sure what use I can be."

Suddenly, Ivy, who was brushing her hair out (a repeated habit), turned to him.

"You are an invulnerable, durable, and practically invincible mortal, Pierre. The question is not whether how you can useful, but how you can not be useful. The answer to that, of course, is annoying everyone with your pitiable cowardliness. Silence your worthless complaining and prepare your supplies already. Cowardliness is a cardinal sin. I suggest you attempt to remedy it."

In an instant, Pierre whirled around, facing her. Was this seriously the same bitch who had called him out before Lewis had gone to Alaska? Furious, he took a step towards her, and then slapped her across the face. With a crash, it knocked her sprawling on the floor, leaving a large red mark on the side of her pale face. He looked around awkwardly for a few moments. He hadn't meant to knock her to the ground. Looking simultaneously embarrassed and angry, he stared down at her.

"Shut the hell up, would you? I get it. Everybody's been saying it since day one. Grow a spine. Yeah, I get it. I'm fucking tired of everybody talking about that. Fine. I'll grow a fucking spine. Whatever. I'm coming, anyway. Just let me get my stuff."

He furiously stormed off to another room, and slammed the door on its hinges. It broke off the hinges, and clattered to the floor. Scowling, he started to pack a few supplies. As he left, Ivy shakily rose to her feet, attempting to hold back a few tears. That had hurt. Quite a bit, to be honest. She looked at Crowley.

"Headmaster Crowley, may I ask one thing of you? Put him in the front lines of battle. I desire no other favors but that." she said, sounding utterly cold.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Richard took a bite. He chewed. "Eh. Needs more salt." he said, swallowing it down. After being a janitor here for more years than he could remember, things didn't upset his stomach anymore. He had an iron digestion system at this point. He nodded to Sari. "Keep up the good work then." he said, walking back upstairs- then stopping when Crowley teleported in, along with Minh, Lewis and Damien. "We got the Indian Government on our side and-" He paused. "Hold on a moment."

Sari, Ciel, Richard and Crowley's diplomatic pals teleported into the cafetaria, where most people seemed to be. "Alright guys." Crowley said, addressing everyone. "Who likes swimming? Pick your gear. We're going down to Atlantis. Pierre, get your lazy ass over here, we'll need you. Ivy, I need you as well, Uriel is down there, or at least his servants. Laz? It's in Hell. Uriel's there. I think you'll enjoy killing him. Ellywick, Daisy-chan?" Daisy burned with quiet fury at that nickname. "I brought a submarine. Look in our swimming pool. Fix it up to be ready to fight krakens and the like. Rest of you? Pack your stuff. We're going tomorrow."

Pierre, who was wandering through the cafeteria at the time, dropped his plate on the floor. It landed with a crack, splintering into several shards, scattering over the floor. He looked over at Crowley.

"You'll need me? In Hell? I-I'm really not sure what use I can be."

Inwardly, he froze. The past week had been terrible. He had spent most of his time wandering aimlessly around the school. He didn't want to be here. The place had been attacked by killer robots in the last month. That was bad enough. Frankly, he should have left at that. Of course, as if this wasn't enough, some Outer God tool had shown up just a few hours ago and killed Nyarla and Malal. The war hadn't even begun, and this place was already dangerous enough. Malal was tough. He could withstand almost anything. Plus, Nyarla was some sort of minor deity at the least, and they were both dead.

If they could die, he could die. And they died here. He had been planning on leaving, but, no, he had stayed because of Laz, and inwardly, it was messing with him. On one hand, he felt like a miserable, grovelling coward. What kind of a man hid while his friends went to fight? He was pathetic. Weak. A failure. But, on the other hand, why did that matter? Why was being a coward a bad thing at all? It didn't matter, as long as he was still alive. And, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

And, of course, Crowley wanted to drag him back to Hell, one of the most dangerous places in all of existence. He was silent for a few moments, and then repeated himself.

"I'm not sure what use I can be."

Suddenly, Ivy, who was brushing her hair out (a repeated habit), turned to him.

"You are an invulnerable, durable, and practically invincible mortal, Pierre. The question is not whether how you can useful, but how you can not be useful. The answer to that, of course, is annoying everyone with your pitiable cowardliness. Silence your worthless complaining and prepare your supplies already."

In an instant, Pierre whirled around, facing her. Scowling, he took a step towards her, and then slapped her across the face, knocking her to the floor. He looked around awkwardly for a few moments. He hadn't meant to knock her to the ground. Looking simultaneously embarrassed and angry, he stared down at her.

"Shut the hell up, would you? I get it. Everybody's been saying it since day one. Grow a spine. Yeah, I get it. I'm fucking tired of everybody talking about that. Fine. I'll grow a fucking spine. Whatever. I'm coming, anyway. Just let me get my stuff."

He furiously stormed off to another room, and slammed the door on its hinges. It broke off the hinges, and clattered to the floor. Scowling, he started to pack a few supplies. As he left, Ivy shakily rose to her feet, attempting to hold back a few tears. That had hurt. Quite a bit, to be honest. She looked at Crowley.

"Headmaster Crowley, may I ask one thing of you? Put him in the front lines of battle. He shall pay for his insolence."

"This child should be removed," the Russian bear said, "He is a danger to the ranks of this army. Better yet, he should be executed publicly, but you humans would have none of that, I assume."

"Didn't Mountainfire have a big shit-fit about how we kill people and compromise our morals or somethin'?" Lewis pointed out.

"A bear will never strike a bear without retribution," the Russian countered, "but this fool is not a bear. That young one is a snake - strong and feared, but in actuality a scared, pathetic creature lashing out from a desperate space of near-death. The proper response is to stomp its neck to dust."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Lewis said dismissively, "Commie. He's not worth it. Never has been, never will be."

Lewis approached Ivy and knelt down.

"Ye' OK, kid?" he asked.

"Mr. Crowley, I must persist," the bear said, "you should not allow such elements into your army."

[The Nuclear Fist]

"Anyone home?" Malal asked weakly as he felt the vapor starting to condense back into a liquid in his optical 'veins'.

Malal would feel himself floating, as if he was in space. All around him was blackness, floating in a starless abyss. And yet it was not cold. Indeed, the realm he found himself was warm, and almost pleasant. It was as if he was a growing creature in the womb of a goddess. But that would be silly, so obviously he was not. Wispy tendrils touched his wounds, seeping through his shattered carapace. They soothed him, healed him. It was as if this entire place, this entire realm, existed solely to heal the wounded and dying. When he awoke, it seemed as if a presence filled the void. An invisible, formless spectre stroked his face, enveloping him on a motherly embrace. Malal was in one of the Eldritch pantheon's many hidden realms, this one under the patronage of Shub-Niggurath. She had always taken a shining to Nyarlathotep, and was sympathetic to her upon learning of what had actually happened. Moreso, she was far more diplomatically minded than her colleagues, and so when the Hound struck down the Asgardian, she had her young spirit him away to this realm.

"Oh, good. You're awake. That means you're not dead."

The voice that spoke to him was female in origin, albeit being oddly robotic and metallic in sound. The disembodied voice sounded as if it was both unsurprised and only barely interested, but considering it was the disembodied voice of one of Shub-Niggurath's children, this was to be expected.

[Ende]

Pierre, who was wandering through the cafeteria at the time, dropped his plate on the floor. It landed with a crack, splintering into several shards, scattering over the floor. He looked over at Crowley.

"You'll need me? In Hell? I-I'm really not sure what use I can be."

Inwardly, he froze. The past week had been terrible. He had spent most of his time wandering aimlessly around the school. He didn't want to be here. The place had been attacked by killer robots in the last month. That was bad enough. Frankly, he should have left at that. Of course, as if this wasn't enough, some Outer God tool had shown up just a few hours ago and killed Nyarla and Malal. The war hadn't even begun, and this place was already dangerous enough. Malal was tough. He could withstand almost anything. Plus, Nyarla was some sort of minor deity at the least, and they were both dead.

If they could die, he could die. And they died here. He had been planning on leaving, but, no, he had stayed because of Laz, and inwardly, it was messing with him. On one hand, he felt like a miserable, grovelling coward. What kind of a man hid while his friends went to fight? He was pathetic. Weak. A failure. But, on the other hand, why did that matter? Why was being a coward a bad thing at all? It didn't matter, as long as he was still alive. And, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

And, of course, Crowley wanted to drag him back to Hell, one of the most dangerous places in all of existence. He was silent for a few moments, and then repeated himself.

"I'm not sure what use I can be."

Suddenly, Ivy, who was brushing her hair out (a repeated habit), turned to him.

"You are an invulnerable, durable, and practically invincible mortal, Pierre. The question is not whether how you can useful, but how you can not be useful. The answer to that, of course, is annoying everyone with your pitiable cowardliness. Silence your worthless complaining and prepare your supplies already."

In an instant, Pierre whirled around, facing her. Scowling, he took a step towards her, and then slapped her across the face, knocking her to the floor. He looked around awkwardly for a few moments. He hadn't meant to knock her to the ground. Looking simultaneously embarrassed and angry, he stared down at her.

"Shut the hell up, would you? I get it. Everybody's been saying it since day one. Grow a spine. Yeah, I get it. I'm fucking tired of everybody talking about that. Fine. I'll grow a fucking spine. Whatever. I'm coming, anyway. Just let me get my stuff."

He furiously stormed off to another room, and slammed the door on its hinges. It broke off the hinges, and clattered to the floor. Scowling, he started to pack a few supplies. As he left, Ivy shakily rose to her feet, attempting to hold back a few tears. That had hurt. Quite a bit, to be honest. She looked at Crowley.

"Headmaster Crowley, may I ask one thing of you? Put him in the front lines of battle. He shall pay for his insolence."

"This child should be removed," the Russian bear said, "He is a danger to the ranks of this army. Better yet, he should be executed publicly, but you humans would have none of that, I assume."

"Didn't Mountainfire have a big shit-fit about how we kill people and compromise our morals or somethin'?" Lewis pointed out.

"A bear will never strike a bear without retribution," the Russian countered, "but this fool is not a bear. That young one is a snake - strong and feared, but in actuality a scared, pathetic creature lashing out from a desperate space of near-death. The proper response is to stomp its neck to dust."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Lewis said dismissively, "Commie. He's not worth it. Never has been, never will be."

Lewis approached Ivy and knelt down.

"Ye' OK, kid?" he asked.

"Mr. Crowley, I must persist," the bear said, "you should not allow such elements into your army."

Ivy shakily turned to Lewis.

"Once, you told me that if I needed to talk to someone, your door was always open."

She let out a deep breath, attempting to calm down. She wasn't quite sure why this had unsettled her so much, but it had. Perhaps it was the fact that it reminded her of how, at her roots, she was still a mortal. Angels never would show weakness like this. It was pathetic. She should have risen to her feet and kept her composure intact.

But she couldn't do that. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to speak with Lewis.

"I need to talk to someone."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"This child should be removed," the Russian bear said, "He is a danger to the ranks of this army. Better yet, he should be executed publicly, but you humans would have none of that, I assume."

"Didn't Mountainfire have a big shit-fit about how we kill people and compromise our morals or somethin'?" Lewis pointed out.

"A bear will never strike a bear without retribution," the Russian countered, "but this fool is not a bear. That young one is a snake - strong and feared, but in actuality a scared, pathetic creature lashing out from a desperate space of near-death. The proper response is to stomp its neck to dust."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Lewis said dismissively, "Commie. He's not worth it. Never has been, never will be."

Lewis approached Ivy and knelt down.

"Ye' OK, kid?" he asked.

"Mr. Crowley, I must persist," the bear said, "you should not allow such elements into your army."

Ivy shakily turned to Lewis.

"Once, you told me that if I needed to talk to someone, your door was always open."

She let out a deep breath, attempting to calm down.

"I need to talk to someone."

"Do ye' want to go somewhere more private?" he asked with concern, "Not that privacy actually exists in this place. Crowley's watching us like Orwell Bigbrother in communist Italy."

The Russian bear merely buried its head in its paws, unable to cope with the sheer amount of ignorance radiating from Lewis. Jameson was a clever man, certainly, and intelligent, he just had no idea what the fuck he was talking about most of the time. He was also quite slow with modern times - age had wore him down, the bears had noticed. He was not nearly as sharp as he had been, as devilishly masterful. He hadn't moved beyond his days of glory, the days of the frontier. He was weak in this new world, as weak as an immortal madman with a banjo and heat vision ever can be, unadjusted.

A flaw for the bears to use.