The Supernatural Chronicles: IC

[PHAGE]

Arachdus launched himself at the lazer-wielding deity. his two diamond-hard fangs ready to inject dissolving venom straight into his enemy's Icor.

Ego's eyes narrowed as he twisted his neck unnaturally to face Arachdus, who had tried to sneak up on him from behind. In one swift motion, he opened his maw wide, projectile vomiting an amalgamation of half-digested body parts onto Arachdus. The force of the vomit was enough to throw Arachdus into the nearby building, leaving a thin film of burning, acidic residue behind.

"You think you can ambush me?" Ego growled. "I can smell your sewer stench from a mile away. You should have known better than to attack me in blinding light."

Arachdus felt a painful Crack as he hit the building. very quickly he found out he was not going to survive a full attack from Ego, his solution was a tactical retreat. He sprinted for the nearest Manhole

[Kenmoria]

Metatron heard a disembodied voice a few feet away from him. Deities, in Metatron's opinion, had a very inflated ego. But for the time he indulged this god.

"This is not my doing. They are drawing unnecesary attention here." The angel continued to watch refusing to take part all of this. He crossed his arms before drawing a sigil on the nearby wall. His hand glowed in a holy light when the sigil was activated, no more unnecesary innocents would crossed into the vicinity.

"This is not my concern neither should it be yours, god. By the way do you have a name? I've known many gods throughout the centuries. I'm sure we crossed paths before."

Tacitum chuckled, genuinely amused. Angels were never ones for pleasantries, not even now. He knew from experience that they did have emotions, but the angels seemed to be in disagreement with that fact: all part of their holiness. “Yes, I suppose that I do.” The quip was spoken with only the lightest hint of sardonicism, for he was still fairly invested in the combat. The spiderling was retreating, which was the correct move in this scenario. Only against a severely weakened deity could a non-deity generally succeed, leaving aside those archangels and archdemons with power rivalling the deific themselves. His attention turned back to Metatron. “However, I wonder whether anyone really has a name. In a sense, one’s name is chosen by others, rather than by oneself. I might insist that my name be Alpha but, if everyone calls me as Beta, is not Beta more my real name?”

“I jest.” Tacitum continued. “I am Tacitum, and slightly offended that you didn’t remember, dear Metatron. Are not the angels and deities on the best of terms? I hear that the group in Brasilia had quite the experience lately.” In fairness, Tacitum had little issue with the angelic host. As long as he could comfortably continue his work, sharing and discovering secrets, he was satisfied, and the angels tended to have loftier concerns than his own, fundamental principles. “It seems, regardless, that we are both here by sheer coincidence, at the same place that Ashiro and Ego fight.” Coincidences did not exist. What humans called coincidence was simply where two events were connected by something that they did not know. It was a label to mask their ignorance. “The link between everyone, the root cause, so to speak, is something of a missing variable.”

That would hopefully get Metatron’s attention. Though Tacitum had not had much interaction with this particular archangel, he did know how psychology tended to work. With a low voice, he whispered the next sentence. “Are you planning on attending the auction, I wonder?” It was a bit of a gamble. If there were demons involved, even some disapproved vampires or deities, this might create something of a furore. However, he was now at the point of simply needing to know, having travelled all the way from Singapore on this mission. Any shortcut would be most appreciated, and one might have just presented itself with wings and a halo. Perhaps Ashiro and Ego were here for the same reason, though neither looked to be in a particularly spendthrift mood.

[Almamlakat Almuqadasa]

EGO
San Fracisco

It was a bright day in San Francisco. The sun shone down on the city, its warmth and light reflecting off the tall buildings and busy streets.

Suddenly, a homeless man emerged from the shadows. He was thin and dirty, his clothes tattered and worn. He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his phone. He had a message, something important.

But before he could unlock the phone, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky and struck him. He was thrown back, his body convulsing and shaking as the electricity surged through him.

When the lightning stopped, the man was no longer himself. His eyes glowed with a strange energy, and he began to laugh maniacally.

"I am Ego, the god of science and technology!" he shouted. He raised his hands, and the streetlights began to flicker on and off in response. Cars began to move on their own, as if being pulled by an invisible force.

The homeless man laughed again and looked up at the sky. "Behold my power!" he declared. He then began to stride down the street, leaving destruction in his wake.

Suddenly, his body began to change. A giant mouth appeared in his stomach, and his limbs turned into long, slimy tentacles. He began to use these tentacles to snatch people off the street and devour them alive.

People screamed and ran away as the homeless man unleashed his fury.

The screams and chaos continued until the police arrived. They opened fire on the homeless man, but their bullets seemed to have no effect on him. He kept coming, and soon the whole area was in chaos.

That's when the homeless man had an idea. He used his tentacles to grab onto the streetlights, and then he began to swing from one to the other, like a monkey in a jungle. The police had no way to follow him, and soon he was out of sight.

Ray Pierce
San Francisco

After a long and fruitless investigation, the SFPD got distracted by other appointments. The investigation was stopped, and Ray was about to help the SFPD when his radio chattered, "Available personnel in San Francisco, we got a report from Officer Harvey about a thing with tentacles or something, roaming free in the city. Officer Harvey also shot the thing, but it seems like it's immune to pistol bullets. We're not sure what it is, but the SFPD wanted us to help finding them. Does anyone read me?" Ray then reached for his radio and replied by saying, "Copy."

Not long after, Ray is on the road with another state police cruiser in front of him. They can hear the sound of sirens filling the city and SFPD cars in front of buildings, with the siren light on although the cruisers are empty. It's just going on in one small part of the city though. They can still see the highway is as busy as it used to be. They come to a halt on Turk Street. They decided to continue on foot, walking through the street, both of them with a shotgun in their arm and their flashlight on. "I'm honestly not sure if we can find anything," said Officer Tom. "Neither do I," Ray replied, "but Officer Harvey said he did find something, and he fired several shots with his Glock. I wonder how he's doing right now."

[Observation Post 13]

The two gods clashed in downtown San Fransisco. Their movements were too fast for the eye to track, but their afterimages were enough to paint the scene of utter destruction they were wreaking on the city.

Buildings were crumbled to dust beneath their powerful blows, as steel and glass shattered into a million pieces. Gas pipelines burst, sending a barrage of flames and smoke into the sky. The ground beneath their feet cracked and split as they fought, leaving deep craters in their wake.

The final blow of their battle was an explosion so powerful, it sent a mushroom cloud of dust and debris into the sky, blotting out the sun. When the dust settled, a giant canyon that had been torn open by their battle stretched across 5 city blocks.

Streets were ripped apart, buildings crumbled, and the charred remains of cars and buses lay strewn about. Fire hydrants and power lines dangled from the sides of buildings, and the stench of smoke and burning gasoline filled the air.

[Tarnen]

Metatron heard a disembodied voice a few feet away from him. Deities, in Metatron's opinion, had a very inflated ego. But for the time he indulged this god.

"This is not my doing. They are drawing unnecesary attention here." The angel continued to watch refusing to take part all of this. He crossed his arms before drawing a sigil on the nearby wall. His hand glowed in a holy light when the sigil was activated, no more unnecesary innocents would crossed into the vicinity.

"This is not my concern neither should it be yours, god. By the way do you have a name? I've known many gods throughout the centuries. I'm sure we crossed paths before."

Tacitum chuckled, genuinely amused. Angels were never ones for pleasantries, not even now. He knew from experience that they did have emotions, but the angels seemed to be in disagreement with that fact: all part of their holiness. “Yes, I suppose that I do.” The quip was spoken with only the lightest hint of sardonicism, for he was still fairly invested in the combat. The spiderling was retreating, which was the correct move in this scenario. Only against a severely weakened deity could a non-deity generally succeed, leaving aside those archangels and archdemons with power rivalling the deific themselves. His attention turned back to Metatron. “However, I wonder whether anyone really has a name. In a sense, one’s name is chosen by others, rather than by oneself. I might insist that my name be Alpha but, if everyone calls me as Beta, is not Beta more my real name?”

“I jest.” Tacitum continued. “I am Tacitum, and slightly offended that you didn’t remember, dear Metatron. Are not the angels and deities on the best of terms? I hear that the group in Brasilia had quite the experience lately.” In fairness, Tacitum had little issue with the angelic host. As long as he could comfortably continue his work, sharing and discovering secrets, he was satisfied, and the angels tended to have loftier concerns than his own, fundamental principles. “It seems, regardless, that we are both here by sheer coincidence, at the same place that Ashiro and Ego fight.” Coincidences did not exist. What humans called coincidence was simply where two events were connected by something that they did not know. It was a label to mask their ignorance. “The link between everyone, the root cause, so to speak, is something of a missing variable.”

That would hopefully get Metatron’s attention. Though Tacitum had not had much interaction with this particular archangel, he did know how psychology tended to work. With a low voice, he whispered the next sentence. “Are you planning on attending the auction, I wonder?” It was a bit of a gamble. If there were demons involved, even some disapproved vampires or deities, this might create something of a furore. However, he was now at the point of simply needing to know, having travelled all the way from Singapore on this mission. Any shortcut would be most appreciated, and one might have just presented itself with wings and a halo. Perhaps Ashiro and Ego were here for the same reason, though neither looked to be in a particularly spendthrift mood.

Metatron remained stoic, turning his attention towards the fight for a moment. Things were getting out of hand quickly, Metatron felt he would need to step in soon. He turned his attention back towards Tacitum."I had to be sure. Alot of the Gods have the need for theatrics, even with a celestial being such as myself. It gets annoying."

He was about to continue when he felt a presence immediatley behind him. Something old, Metatron instantly turned his attention towards it. Behind him and Tacitum stood a man, who appeared to be in his mid 50, wearing a simply black suit and tie. "An angel and a god bump into each other on the sidewalk. Sounds like a the start of a bad joke."

Metatron gave a subtle nod of respect to this stranger, but the man Metatron knew well. "Death."

"Metatron, Tacitum." Death returned the nod

Metatron was almost afraid to ask even though he knew the answer. "What brings you here?" Death returned a smile pointing to the gods fighting behind them.

The angel turned his attention back toward the fighting deities. They were fighting at incredible speeds before the explosion happened. The shockwaved sent Metatron flying into the air. He quickly corrected himself by expanding his wings, as he shielded himself from the debris covering himself with his wings.

Death just stood there, any debris that got within a few inches would just exploded into nothingness. When the dust finally settled he simply wiped a bit of soot from his should. Metatron stood up as he walked through the debris to the others.

"I'm not one to be blunt, but San Franscisco is going to be destroyed in a few days." Metatron made his eye contact with Death.

"Why?" The angel asked with almost anger in his voice.

Death just cracked a smile "Don't you have a auction to get to?"

[Kenmoria]

Metatron remained stoic, turning his attention towards the fight for a moment. Things were getting out of hand quickly, Metatron felt he would need to step in soon. He turned his attention back towards Tacitum."I had to be sure. Alot of the Gods have the need for theatrics, even with a celestial being such as myself. It gets annoying."

He was about to continue when he felt a presence immediatley behind him. Something old, Metatron instantly turned his attention towards it. Behind him and Tacitum stood a man, who appeared to be in his mid 50, wearing a simply black suit and tie. "An angel and a god bump into each other on the sidewalk. Sounds like a the start of a bad joke."

Metatron gave a subtle nod of respect to this stranger, but the man Metatron knew well. "Death."

"Metatron, Tacitum." Death returned the nod

Metatron was almost afraid to ask even though he knew the answer. "What brings you here?" Death returned a smile pointing to the gods fighting behind them.

The angel turned his attention back toward the fighting deities. They were fighting at incredible speeds before the explosion happened. The shockwaved sent Metatron flying into the air. He quickly corrected himself by expanding his wings, as he shielded himself from the debris covering himself with his wings.

Death just stood there, any debris that got within a few inches would just exploded into nothingness. When the dust finally settled he simply wiped a bit of soot from his should. Metatron stood up as he walked through the debris to the others.

"I'm not one to be blunt, but San Franscisco is going to be destroyed in a few days." Metatron made his eye contact with Death.

"Why?" The angel asked with almost anger in his voice.

Death just cracked a smile "Don't you have a auction to get to?"

Tacitum was about to respond to Metatron, some witty comment about the smoke and mirrors of theatres, but then he felt Death. Tacitum was old, older than most deities even, but he was not on the same sort of temporal frame as Death, not even close. He dropped the invisibility almost instantly, allowing the soft patter to fall against his suit and tie. There was little point in hiding from Death. In the strict sense, if he were truly trying, it was possible, but it was always temporary. That was no secret at all. It was simply inevitable. As such, he turned towards Death, and made a polite nod, seeing Metatron do the same. The angels were not quite so standoffish when there was this sort of power in the area. Two gods fighting was one thing; Death was quite another.

The shockwave burst from Ego and Ashiro, a sheer explosion of force crashing through the surrounding edifices. It ran like a wave through the glass, the panes undulating for a few precious moments before shattering into a thousand shining daggers. Those pricks of light did not have time to fall before being swept into the crowd. Those nearby civilians barely had time to look before the force sent them flying forwards: some even surviving. Tacitum has enough warning, by a matter of fractions of a second, to shift himself from the physical carnage. Anyone watching would have noticed the sleeves of his jacket suddenly fall still, and the flicker of his lapels cease, as if the wind has ceased to affect him. In reality, he had simply divorced himself from the material consequences of the world. As invisibility was to sight, so this was to touch. Previously, eyes had not perceived him; now, the physical laws bore that inability.

When the blast was finished, Tacitum shifted back into reality. He cast his gaze towards the devastation. There had been seemingly little point in removing all those previous memories, when the brains once storing them were littering the pavement. “It appears, dear Metatron, that you and I have similar purpose.” He pronounced, once Metatron had returned. “The auction is my destination likewise, and I doubt that something so trivial as this little escapade might upset it.” Death was not here for that, but for some obviously ulterior motive. What that was, Tacitum could hardly say, yet this city seemed at the epicentre of something truly powerful. Even he was not immune to the draw of such events. Where might gathered, darkness did too, and with the darkness came lies that concealed wisdom.

“I do not suppose that there is any point in asking you what might happen to this urbanity.” Tacitum spoke now directly to Death. He despised the idea of anyone knowing a secret of this magnitude, when he did not, but it was less frustrating in this instance, with this particular being. With a snap of his fingers, he caught a shard of glass hurtling through the air, where another wall had crumpled under a collateral blow. “We shall all see soon enough, when the fates reach their allotted time. Even I cannot pretend to know when that is, though I suppose that you have it mapped to the second.” Tacitum cocked his head slightly to the side as he addressed Death, almost as if in question. “Metatron, shall we head to the auction, then? The spirit of solidarity among the supernatural seems strangely lacking at the moment.” He chuckled, dropping the crystal fragment to the floor.

[Tarnen]

Death looked at the angel and the god infront of him. The right side of his mouth began to curl into a smile before it turn back into its neutral state. "I'm sure it's infuriating for the God of Secrets to be left in the proverbial dark." He took a few steps surveying the damage, souls of the dead unfortunate enough to have been caught in the blast began to wail, but immediately reapers began to appear ferrying the souls to their next destination. Death turned his head. "This city is in it's final days of life. I know exactly when but why spoil the surprise." He shrugged. "But it would be in your best interest to attend the auction." He had turned to leave before stopping "And one more thing. Ask your father about the truth." Death vanished and Metatron was left confused "The truth?" The angel turned to Tacitum "I suppose we need to go to this auction."

[Kenmoria]

Death looked at the angel and the god infront of him. The right side of his mouth began to curl into a smile before it turn back into its neutral state. "I'm sure it's infuriating for the God of Secrets to be left in the proverbial dark." He took a few steps surveying the damage, souls of the dead unfortunate enough to have been caught in the blast began to wail, but immediately reapers began to appear ferrying the souls to their next destination. Death turned his head. "This city is in it's final days of life. I know exactly when but why spoil the surprise." He shrugged. "But it would be in your best interest to attend the auction." He had turned to leave before stopping "And one more thing. Ask your father about the truth." Death vanished and Metatron was left confused "The truth?" The angel turned to Tacitum "I suppose we need to go to this auction."

Tacitum smiled, not that anyone could see it. Finally, he and Metatron were getting somewhere. “I suppose that we do.” He stepped closer, just enough to allow the angel’s heightened senses the confirmation that he was there. “Please do lead the way.” It was a touch melodramatic, the way that Tacitum proclaimed that request, but melodrama was part of his essence now. There were ordinary, mundane secrets, and those were all well and good, but the truly scandalous ones required a little more theatre. “I do wonder what Death meant about the truth. If such a thing does exist, I doubt that even deities and angels would know of it.” It was the standard cryptic prophecy that such entities as Death employed. Hidden there, there was invariably some element of reality, but it was typically buried under metaphor. How appropriate it was, for Death to have buried the live element of the conversation.

As Tacitum stood next to Metatron, he turned his attention to the rubble. People often thought that, after a disaster, there was silence. Occasionally, there was, a perfect sort of emptiness. Now, however, as usual, there was noise. Gasoline filled the air, occasionally ignited by the sparks of frayed power-lines. Fire-hydrants spewed riotous gallons of force into already cracked windows. Children were crying and parents were screaming. Ego could never have caused this much destruction by himself, much as he might have liked to have done so. It took a certain form of creativity to generate this much chaos. The pandemonium of it all was impressive, in a way. Buried beneath the fallen cathedrals of glass and metal that rose Christlike from the city, secrets would be made. The heat of battle smelted lives into mysteries, and it was beautiful.