Young Bloods(IC, Reboot Open)

[Finland SSR]

Wyatt

The Mad Lass, Sina As'tari!

August 2nd

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Bael was amiable to the idea of changing the name of "Elder" to something which fit him more, but nevertheless seemed to decide against it. Apparently, it felt too much like trying to hide from all of the past which was associated with the Elders. Sina frowned slightly, but opted not to challenge her peer on that choice - she didn't know anything about the Naligura-Taurac era besides the stories her parents would bore her with, so she couldn't exactly argue on their worth.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense... and I guess you wouldn't really be able to get out of the shadow of their wingspan regardless, no matter what you renamed yourself as. Everyone's still going to judge you according to what those two had done..." Sina muttered in response. "But if you do ever decide to change your mind, then why be so down on the word 'super'? I mean, humans with additional abilities can call themselves 'super humans' while keeping a straight face, I'm sure you could get away with 'Super Dra'Quinni' just as easily."

"Besides, Bael, you're definitely super."

[United Kingdom of Poland]

After the first hair raising encounter she had with War Wolf patrols, Wendy took to the back alley's where no one other than Red would bother looking for her. Taking a deep breath she began thinking about the next day as sneaked around. She wasn't stupid, wither or not she her friends wanted a war with War Wolf, tonight would be the opening shots of one. She also knew that while her collection efforts had netted her an immense information cache, revealing it would raise questions about her, questions she didn't want anything to do with but new would need to be answered.

"Hey Red, Can I ask you a question. I have a friend who did somethings in her past she isn't proud of when she was a kid, but she didn't have a choice in the matter. She's worried that her past is going to come back to haunt her soon, and given you're colorful backstory I was wondering if you might have some advice I could tell her?"

[The Republic of Atria]

Sina

"Pretty much." He replied. There was no way he was going to escape the things his predecessors had done, but the important thing was that he wasn't them. He would forge his own path and be better than them. "And I can't stop them judging me. There's no way on Earth I'm going to be able to make everyone happy, but hey. I'm going to try my hardest to pull the Elder name out of the mud." Sina asked him what he was against the word super for.

"I'm not against the word super. It's more that I'm not going to change a word that everyone already already knows." He explained. "Here's what I'll do. If we, somehow via divine intervention or what have you, develop superpowers that aren't magic adjacent, I'll name that Super Dra'Qunni." He bet. "Elders will remain as is. That way the word super can be used like you want and I don't have to pretend that I don't have a FUBAR history to Un-FUBAR." He sighed. It was going to take a long time to undo that damage. Every bit of good he did helped just a little bit. Maybe one day his own people would see him as a hero. "Before you ask, FUBAR stands for: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition."

But probably anytime soon. "Anyways." He started up again. "I should probably start getting back to my team. Oh, and if you need a place to stay..." He trailed off, pulling out a set of house keys. They had some runes clearly etched into the sides, evidence that they too had been enchanted. "These are the spares. I'll text you the address in just a second. Be warned, if I drop by with a bunch of my friends, that's probably because we're running from Warwolf. We shouldn't have to, but hey. I can't see the future. There should be food in there, enough for at least a week."

Lastly, Sina referred to him as "super." Which immediately caused his face to burn. "Umm... Uh..." His mind raced to see what she meant. Obviously a compliment, but why? "Ummm... Thank... You? I... Don't know what to say other than that."

He had a shiver run down his spine, somewhere, somehow, Jason was watching and dying of laughter.

[Vanquaria]

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Helping Out Officer Colson
Downtown District, San Diego
12 August
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Bu had not been doing much for the past few days since his action-packed encounter with a certain masked vigilante from the Outriders. And that time had given him alot of opportunity to think, to ponder. The vigilante had said things that...that made sense to the Chinese fighter. Was it wrong to think that they made sense? Bu was afraid to voice his thoughts aloud to other Young Bloods, and it wasn't just because of the fact that his late-night stint which led to his encounter with the Outrider had been an unsanctioned operation.

To kill those who had killed...to actively pursue them, seek them, and put a bullet in their heads...thinking about Isaac's beliefs from HIS perspective was definitely food for thought, to say the least. The things he had experienced back in China would always stay with him for the rest of his life but he had always had a certain perspective on the events that had led him to where he was at that moment. Until now.

In an attempt to take his mind off of the serious philosophical discussion going on inside his head between Devil Bu, an advocate FOR death against scum, and Angel Bu, an advocate AGAINST death against scum, Bu had gone out to check out San Diego. More specifically, to see if he could open up his own bank account!

Strolling down the street, his stomach full with the contents of boiled dumpling from a local yum cha restaurant, his hearing detected the sudden, resounding noise that was the alarm of the bank he was heading towards. A small part of him told him to run, to do his civic duty as a hero! And the rest of his mind reminded him that he was an alpha male and not a fat cunt, the distance between him and the bank was literally mere meters for Pete's sake. But Bu told the toxic masculinity part of his mind to shut the fuck up and chose to run to the scene of the crime. Just in time to see one ugly piece of shit holding someone by the neck. As he was about to rush into the thick of it, the woman's face came into view...

See, Bu did think Shi was hot and would love to go on a 2nd date with her. But that doesn't mean he can't appreciate an attractive woman when he sees one. However, he was enraptured for a bit too long and when he finally snapped out of it, Jill had used a self-defense technique to escape the super thug's hold and had taken up a shooting stance towards the criminal. Bu shook his head, refocusing on the more obvious pressing matter in front of him.

Walking past Jill, resisting the urge to check her out, Bu strode towards the bald super thug.

"Oh lookie here! So, you wanna be my hostage then?" the thug laughed as he saw Bu approach him and beckoned at the teen with open arms, "Please, be my guest!"

Smirking, Bu replied with a tone of humor evident in his smooth, accented voice, "I just want to help out a fellow skinhead y'know? HEIL brother!"

The thug's content features morphed into anger, "Hey, I ain't no fucking Nazi aight?! Fucking cunt!"

He lunged forward, throwing a fist packed with super-strength at Bu. In a swift motion, Bu weaved past the punch, the air pressure generated by the superhuman punch causing ripples on his cheeks, and, to everyone's surprise, stepped CLOSER to the man. Bu's hand shot out like a cobra, the movement a literal blur to the untrained eye but visible to experienced combatants for Bu was not using any of his powers yet, it was just pure martial arts. Chin Na, a system of kung fu designed to neutralize an opponent's fighting capabilities, mostly involved locking or destroying their joints. But it also involved one of the most brutal attacks of hand-to-hand combat: the eye gouge.

Restraining himself from causing permanent damage to the thug, Bu pushed his fingers deep into the man's eyes and retracted his arm back a split second later. Before the man had even uttered a scream, Bu upper-kicked the man's balls, solidifying his leg to bullet-proof solid levels for hellish punishment. Then he knocked the thug off-balance with a low-kick to the heels and as the man fell, Bu pivoted his lower torso to finish him off with a round-house to the face.

"You won't be touching any more ladies for a while," the Young Blood spat, watching the super thug keel over and writhe around on the ground.

Suddenly Bu became acutely aware of the phones recording him. He was about to pull his hoodie over his head until he realized it was too late. Shrugging, Bu maintained his position over the body of the super thug, asserting his dominance over the beta as sirens suddenly saturated the air.

[The Rebel Alliances]

Jill Colson/Peacekeeper-Downtown District-August 12th

It did not take long for backup to arrive but it did so in the form of a Chinese teenager rather than a WW patrol or SDPD squad cars, of course those were still on the way though. I watched as this kid confidently strolled up to the bank robber with an air of confidence. I was just about to call on him to stop but I recognized him a moment later. This was one of the new additions to the Young Bloods, showed up a little longer than a week ago. How I manage to keep up with their even lengthening roster was a mystery and was a detective feat all of its own. The exchange between the meta human robber and the Young Blood was a forgone conclusion as Bu completely demolished him in short order with a flurry of martial arts maneuvers. His skill was immense, I was able to keep track of his movements but if I were honest with myself that would be all I could likely do. If we were to spar hand to hand it would likely end in a manner similar to this battle. And I was unsure if my Peacekeeper equipment would make much a difference at any rate.

I stepped around the downed attempted robber who was far too busy wincing in pain and moaning to pay me much attention as I read him his rights. Just as I was finishing that up backup began to arrive in the form of a WW patrol who hastily made their way over to me as I had started to raise the criminal up by his cuffed hands.

"Sorry, this prisoner is already in custody. Maybe next time." I was about to move past the WW officers before they cut me off.

"Whats this meta's ability Officer?" The lead WW Officer questioned, eyeing the bank robber who was still in obvious pain.

"Super strength, as far as I could tell." I saw no reason to lie to him as I watched the other officers begin to direct the onlooking crowds away.

"You expect me to believe that you dispatched this meta by yourself?" This was where I started to consider my words more carefully. It seemed to be that the Officer did not recognize Bu as a YB as of yet, and I wasn't sure if they had pieced together who was behind the attack on their jail yet, assuming they had done so I wasn't keen to offer them up a YB in compensation. But lying here could get me in some hot water later. Perhaps I would not have to do either if I play my cards right..

"Maybe you underestimate us city cops then? There are ways to bring down even meta humans after all. Warwolf soldiers should know that." He sneered.

"Fair enough. I'm am going to have to take that meta off of your hands though Officer. I am sure you understand, he is our jurisdiction." Bullshit. Last I checked there was no universal decree signing all meta human criminals to WW. But, I need to pick my battles. After the YB's attack WW has really been stepping up their authority. Cracking down even harder than before and causing the SDPD all sorts of headaches as they constantly moved claimed jurisdiction in what cases they were already allowing us to have. Pretty soon we will be chasing down unpaid parking tickets, red box films and guarding shopping malls before they are satisfied.

But with little other choice, I removed the cuffs from the robber and passed him over.
"You do the paperwork then." I retorted, just in time to wince at him slamming the criminal to the ground once more. Someone in the crowd yelled about police brutality and thats what sucked the most. These Warwolf operatives are not police. But the damned government putting these mercenaries in the streets in his name as well as the President's well...in the eyes of the public we are all the same.

"Your out of line, he was already in custody!" The Officer then shot back.

"Was he, because as far as I can tell I see no restraints on him? He could have been reaching for a weapon." Asshole. There was little for me to do for him now besides watch as a lawful operative ignored any rights this man had left. Turning away from them I walked back to Bu as they loaded the crying man in the truck and started to pull away.

"Thanks for the assist back there and..." I took a shoulder glance back at the tail lights of the WW convoy as they pulled away. "Sorry you had to see that. Your Bu aren't you? New to the Young Bloods right? It almost takes a full detail of detectives to keep up with all of the new faces on your team, pretty soon you will have enough members to start your own police jurisdiction." My mind then flashed back to the night of working alongside Kabuto, and it seemed that I was running into more YBs all the time these days.

"So, what brings you to this side of town? Pretty sure you did not come all the way from Wonder Tower just to bail a officer out."

[Vanquaria]

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Helping Out Officer Colson
Downtown District, San Diego
12 August
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Bu nodded, quite happily in fact, to Jill's acknowledgment of him. Getting to be this close to her, oh yes, thank god he had the powers he had. He was polite, looking at the officer eye to eye. But in his mind, he was pulling up his peripheral vision and gosh did he enjoy the view!

"So, what brings you to this side of town? Pretty sure you did not come all the way from Wonder Tower just to bail a officer out."

Realizing it was his turn to speak now, Bu lazily got off his ass and returned to reality.

"Well...I just wanted to make my first bank account, haha, at least that was the case until I heard the bank's alarm break out."

Watching the people around him, Bu said, "I was simply doing my civic duty as a 'hero', no big deal," Bu replied humbly then gestured to the policewoman with a smile, "And besides, it's always my pleasure to help out beautiful women like yourself."

Giving a slight nod in the direction of the bank, he said, "Though it looks like my humble bank visit will have to wait another day."

[Finland SSR]

Wyatt

The Mad Lass, Sina As'tari!

August 2nd

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"Aw, but we can't even develop superpowers outside of magic, Bael, you're just pulling my leg there..."

Her peer soon followed it up tossing Sina a batch of keys with a magic rune enshrined upon them, presumably for the enchanted house he had been talking about earlier. The vigilante fondled the keys in her hands for a few seconds, wondering on where she was going to put them, before opting to put them in the same loincloth pouch she kept her phone in. "Free food, yay!" Always a benefit in any situation.

What was also a benefit was seeing Bael instantly act flustered upon being called super, his face burning with red as if she had went down on one knee in front of him. Which instantly brightened Sina up and got the vigilante to release a loud giggle, even if she tried to cover up her mouth briefly.

"See, this is the sort of funny acts I was asking for in the first place!" she exclaimed, smiling, and jumped up from her seat. They didn't really have much to talk about by now, anyway, and she needed to rendezvous back to the new base. Start working on a new hammock, she probably won't be able to reach her old one now... "Well, if ya need to get back to base, then I suppose I won't hold you up any longer. Honestly, this went... better than I expected. I was thinking of just trying to work stuff out myself instead of talking to anyone at first... but I didn't regret this change of pace."

Sina pushed herself off the table, stepping out into the open and offered one final wave to Bael, exclaiming:

"Buh-bye!"

[New Neros]

The Orion War
Hotel Pacific Ambush

Housed in a few make-shift tents somewhere in the desert, the members of a renewed Artemis team sat uncomfortably around unfamiliar faces as Titan stared blankly into each of his hand-picked soldiers in the war he was undertaking, he himself seated in front of them all with Impact at his side. "I told you all welcome and to be at home when you came here, and that is still true, but the fact remains, Orion is still alive and must be destroyed. The Rising Suns and Stars have reached out to me for confirmation on Orion sightings and my personal tracking of their operatives, I may comply with their requests, but firmly stated my intent to bring an all-out war to the villains. With or without the movie star supers at my side, I painstakingly picked each one of you here in preparation for a fight against these upstarts, one that I intend to win."

Impact leaned down and spoke into Titan's ear. "We have maintained visual on some operatives, and we are ready to intercept when you give the word." Titan nodded at this information, and continued to speak to his enlarged team.

"Information is without a doubt the most important aspect of any war, any battle, you must know your enemy more than he knows himself. You may notice we have a number larger than regular teams in our arsenal, but that is for good reason. I do not trust numbers, I do not trust powers, but I trust people and the right situation to give us victory. Orion operates in teams of two complimenting villains, and we need to come to the table with a counter in power, application, skill, something that their agent is weak at and relentlessly exploit it."

"But of course, they will realize this after the first engagement, so we must make that one encounter send a strong enough message that Artemis is here to win by any means. We will have feints, false attacks, interceptions, misdirection, whatever we can do to keep our enemy guessing while we drive our point home. We will call the shots in every interaction, no surprises. We have information on a team of Orion villains on their routine patrol, and we have selected a team to intercept them, of which, I will be joined by Vulcan and Prophet to launch a rapid attack against Mirage and Cannon." Titan was firm and took a deep breath, "We are not heroes by any means, but we are doing a service that is needed by all. We're leaving in five, get ready, and the rest of you all remain vigilant and on stand-by until you're called in."

---

The warm sun was offset by the cool breeze of the mid-day sun on the boardwalk, Mirage and Cannon looking over Mission Boulevard with indifference, upset at their selection of beach patrol when intel was desperately needed on local heroes. "It's like we're a liability to them." Nile said sadly, putting his chin on his hand and crossing his legs on the three-story buildings' roof. Cannon grunted and spat in response, Nile taking that as a sign to continue. "I feel like I could be a real game-winning piece by slipping into spaces I'm not supposed to, and walking out without a scratch."

"I feel that," Cannon replied, "Or I could bounce a heroes' skull real quick before they become a problem later on. Preemptive strikes are always effective at catching your opponent off-guard, and if you don't swing first, the other guy gets the pop the first shot. Legion and Guardian are too scared to move against a 'stronger' foe without knowing we'll come out on top. Truth is, you can't ever be certain that the smallest bastard in the bunch won't be the one to knock you out." A strange sound buzzed in the air, the taste suddenly becoming like iron as Cannon and Nile breathed in the fumes, Cannon whipping his head around just in time to see an armor-clad Titan hurling a full-body punch at the villain. Opting to take the hit dead-on, Cannon braced himself while Nile fell through the roof and onto the floor below, hearing the thunderous crash above him. Pieces of the building broke free as Cannon and Titan's battle spilled onto the sandy beach, and while Nile intended to assist, he was confronted by two unknown heroes from both sides.

He went intangible, allowing one's knife to slide through his body and the others' punch to fly through his head. "So, gentlemen," He said quickly, "Names before we begin fully?"

"Prophet." A well-dressed, knife wielding hero said, drawing another blade and jutting through Niles' intangible body.

"Vulcan." Replied the other hero, "Mirage, I assume?"

"Absolutely." Nile replied, stepping back and throwing a kick at Vulcan's midsection, catching it square in the gut and keeping his upper body intangible as Prophet tried to slice at his exposed neck. "That's weird..." He said quietly, but enough for his two opponents to hear. "I was hoping you'd go at least a few meters away from me with that kick, since I figure you're some fire breather that'll make it unbearably hot, even for someone who goes all ghosty like me." Nile created his own distance, rocked himself off of Vulcan and down the corridor, finding a hint of surprise that Prophet kept up the pace and never once let Mirage out of stabbing distance. "Persistent bastard..."

"I could see where you'd get that idea, and let me tell you, it's not a bad one at all. We may keep that one in reserve for later, but I don't breathe fire or shoot it out of my hands or any body part for that matter." Throwing his hand forward, Vulcan's arm stretched and flew down the hallway fast enough to overtake Nile and Prophet, "But with this, I think the cat's out of the bag."

"Fuck," Nile hissed, watching the arm extend like silly putty across the length of the room, "Vulcanized rubber. That is some superpower lottery type of shit." Vulcan's arm whipped around and tried to grab Nile, but he phased through it regardless, changing direction and unphasing parts of his body to strike at Prophet. "You two do know how to keep up the pressure, but allow me to think about my current situation." He said, noting the explosions outside and dropping down through the floor to the next story below him. What awaited him though, caught him entirely by surprise.

"He dropped." Prophet yelled, allowing a waiting Titan to rear back and throw a punch as Mirage's feet and entire body slithered down from above, connecting with the villain right in the chest, the electrical charge shocking Nile's particles and forcing him to back to a tangible being, catching the full might of Titan's punch. His body flew back quickly and slammed into the opposite wall several feet away, crashing through the drywall and beams and landing on an unused conference table. His body was still sparking, and he was sure one of his lungs had been punctured, but Nile stood on his feet quickly and clutched his chest. Titan had out-planned the duo, and knew about Nile's weakness, further surprising the young villain. Cannon arrived quickly and re-engaged Titan, having been battered by the vigilante just moments prior to set-up the combo.

Unable to phase through objects, Nile opted to evacuate the fight entirely as he'd be a liability to Cannon in his state until he could get his intangibility back, but the dinging of a nearby elevator caused his heart to sink. Waiting on the other side was Prophet, a smirk on his face, while Vulcan stood idly behind him. "Let me dance with him a bit." Prophet ordered, Vulcan obeying and standing guard over the brawl. Nile took a sharp breath and ripped a leg from an upturned chair, his eyes trained upon Prophet, who walked slowly towards him, and sprinted suddenly to close the distance. Dodging a vicious knife swing, Nile smacked Prophet across the jaw with his chair leg and broke it into several splinters. Jarred from the hit and stumbling slightly, Prophet resumed his attack while Nile relied on his heroic training back east to handle the situation.

Between dipping and sliding around knife strikes and swings, Nile looked for weapons to even the exchange, possibly even looking to disarm Prophet and take one of his blades to use against the bastard. "So," Nile said inbetween gulps of air as he grabbed another chair leg and used it to block the vigilante's knife swings for a few moments, "What's your deal? Knives and other edge lord shit, is that your power, besides dressing like the Great Gatsby?" Prophet threw his knife at Nile in response to the comment, the villain dodging it effortlessly by bending backwards, but suddenly feeling the red-hot touch of his opponents' hand on his kneecap. Like a bolt of lightning, Nile felt the full-force of being hit with a bat across the chin, while the split and bruise on Prophet's face evaporated.

"The Good Lord has blessed me with a certain talent," Prophet explained, drawing another blade and pressing upon Nile once more. "Any damage I suffer, a simple touch can transfer it. So simple, so beautiful, I was given this holy power to eradicate evil within this world. It will all be cleansed by me, or my knives, and I'm certain God in Heaven will accept either for my fidelity. I am his instrument, his will made manifest, a prophet, and you are a scourge upon this world. I am the herald for Jesus Christ, and I will make this world fit for his return."

"Holy shit," Nile stated, "You're a fucking psycho. I mean, I am in a villainous organization as a former hero and have done some questionable stuff, morally gray after all, but you are a nutcase. But here's the thing, you're either going to touch me after I get a good lick on you or stab me, and from the way we've been dancing, I can make sure you do neither, and I'll just hold my teeth-breaking punches until I can knock you out clean."

"Oh?" Prophet said sarcastically, "You're done with the warm up? Excellent, that makes things easier."

"Don't you fuckin' 'warm-up' trope me, asshole, I'll shatter your testicles with my closed fist." Nile took a defensive stance and watched as Prophet slid a blade deep into his own body, from his kidney up into his lower rib cage, effortlessly at that, and without a wince of pain. "What the fu-" Nile said, stumbling back on a table by accident, taking a look back for a moment and whipping his head back at Prophet, watching in horror as the wounded zealot leapt forward and just barely grazed Nile's stomach with his outstretched fingertips. Like a searing hot cattle brand, Nile felt a knife slide into his side, with blood to match as his body tore open a wound it had never received, nearly sending the villain into shock at the pain he was enduring throughout the fight and even now.

Prophet was without mercy as well, using the hand he hadn't touched Nile with to drive a real knife into his opponent's thigh, bouncing the blade off of his femur and chipping the bone while flaying the villain's flesh, blood erupting from the wound as Nile's leg locked up. His vision blurred for a moment, Prophet pulling away from his wounded opponent with a sly smile on his face, "Okay, that was a good warm up..." Mirage admitted, blood running down to his shin on one side of his body and the other leaking down to his knee, "We definitely need some back up," His eyes wandered around and loss of consciousness was imminent, Nile caught Prophet moving toward him once more with an outstretched hand holding his blade, ready for the final blow. One last time, as he was trying through the whole fight, Nile tried to phase through something, anything, to re-establish his power.

His Orion tattoo flashed for a moment, an arm reaching through the ex-heroes left shoulder blade and stopping the thrust of Prophet's final blow, Nile falling through the floor once more and landing haphazardly in the basement, a pool of blood quickly forming after he thudded onto the ground. Puzzled at the development, Prophet's wrist was deadlocked by a faceless masked man wielding a pistol in his off-guard, cocked and ready to fire. "Legion." He stated proudly, shooting Prophet in the foot with his weapon before the zealot could react. Two more Legions emerged from the man's body, one training a firearm on Vulcan while the other aimed for Prophet's head. "Tell me, Prophet, does your God consider you a good man, or a necessary evil? Regardless of your answer, you'll find out a lot sooner than the rest of us."

[Absolon-7]

Saving Private Carter

Casimir Herman August 1st
Think think think. Running and leaping towards Carter and the juggernauts hundreds of thoughts were drafted and discarded on how to deal with them. Bitter scathing memories of his last encounter with one of them was burned into his psyche and now for the hell of it there were three of the contraptions. This time however there were humans in them instead of being corrupted shells. An interesting factor but also an annoying one. He can't try bifurcating these like the last one. Well whatever he'd think of something on the fly when the time came which should be in seconds if he kept running as fast as he did. Casimir couldn't help let out a mix of a grunt and exasperated sigh at the sight of seeing three juggernauts crawling through the doorway of a Trader Joe's while Carter was inside screaming bloody murder.

Casimir eye's darted around them before he burst into action. Like a dragonfly he ran to the leftmost space in the seconds before they entered to pummel Carter. Immediately he shot a line of webbing at the knees of the juggernaut and then he squatted down whereby his leg muscles propelled him to the other side where the third juggernauts barely caught wind of him. He was still shooting out webbing at around their knee-level before he pivoted in place and jumped behind them. With a hard stomp he stopped only a meter behind them before running back to where he started. As the juggernauts legs were entangled in the webbing they fell over on their face as they were in the middle of walking. By now Casimir was dripping in sweat and each breath a deep gasp.

"Get the hell out of the building! It's time to regroup!," yelled out Casimir at Carter's direction. The collapsed juggernauts were in a mess of metal limbs hitting each other and getting in their way and thanks to how weird their shoulders looked their range of motion was limited. Wherever their hands were free Casimir shot webbing at it in a hopeful bid for time. Casimir ran to Carter's location and picked him up by the shirt and the throwing him over his shoulder. His burning legs rocketed him back outside to safety and to where Harley would hopefully be. Casimir placed Carter down before he took a glance at the juggernauts one last time.

"In that heap they're in it'll buy us enough time to attack another patrol and they gotta be pissed enough to keep going for us after they break out," huffed Casimir, "Hopefully, the rest of the team got Kiris by now....Let's get the hell outta Dodge."

Jill Colson/Peacekeeper-Old District, August 2nd

Casimir Herman August 2nd
Snug like a bug, Casimir hopped into Peacekeeper's car and he noticed it looked strangely new for something a long time hero would use. She could have gotten lucky and acquired a new one by some means or perhaps it was a rental. However she got it Casimir could appreciate a ride on a quality vehicle. Casimir raised an eyebrow as they turned to another street and their target left them behind but it made sense. Follow prey too persistently from the shadows and it will notice. Best to occasionally hang back and let some distance grow plus it had a tracker and one of Casimir's cockroaches in it. It would just be redundant following it all the way. Peacekeeper's explanation fit his exact thoughts nicely as he saw her tapping the GPS screen. It appeared she didn't want anyone to get hurt and instead wanted information.

"Understandable. I don't usually do 'contacts' as I have other ways for getting knee deep info," nodded along Kabuto.

Personally he hoped for some hotblooded action as what better way was there to let off steam then pounding the unjust for their crimes but he'd go along with her wishes. And now the crux of the matter: how to get up a 35 story building? A sudden corner turn revealed the high rise building to Kabuto and he tilted his helmeted head towards it. What Casimir saw switched to one insect in the building and then another and soon like a broken television it rapidfire scrolled through the point of view of all insect in the vicinity until he finally focused in on a lone fruitfly in the 35th floor. Hijacking its body Casimir made it fly out of whatever room it was in and into the floor's hallway. It zipped and zoomed in the air with its eyes scanning for a certain opportunity and then bingo! An open window at the end of the hallway just begging to be broken into.

"I have a brilliant idea indeed," boldly stated Kabuto, "As Lady Luck has favored us with an opportunity: an open window on the 35th floor's hallway with no soul in sight. Second, it's facing the alley so no one from the streets will spot us in my third point. Third, I can shoot out webbing from my wrists and swing us up there in no time."

Kabuto leaned back on his car seat as they neared the building. He crossed his arms and brought one arm up to tap a finger on his helmet's mouth piece. "But this plan depends on how well you can hold on to my neck for a few seconds at a high speed....hmm well that's my first idea. And if anyone shows up in the hallway in the meantime I'll be able to see wherever they are. Can sorta share perception with bugs."

[Finland SSR]

Hellfire Road Trip, Part 1!

August 8th

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Hellfire Road Trip, Part 2!

August 8th

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Hellfire Road Trip, Part 3!

August 8th

Pull My Devil Trigger!

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The war for the throne of the second-in-command of the Princes of Hell had finally begun. The forces of Asmodeus, one of the members of the anti-Beelzebub coalition, were the first to reach their designated opponent, and, hoping to eliminate each of their rivals in detail before they can all clutter together into a single unstoppable wave, Beelzebub's vast armies marched to meet their rival and send them fleeing before reinforcements can arrive. The gigantic masses of demons under the wing of the Lord of the Flies stretched to the horizon, blotting out the hellish landscape underneath her feet. The demons charging forth had no trouble navigating their way between all the flaming coffins and cauldrons of boiling tar where the prideful and the heretics were held for their eternal torture, but at least had a bit of a break, as they didn't have any hellish creatures stabbing them with pitchforks and gnawing them alive.

Among the masses of imps, hellish beasts, hell hounds and lesser demons, their taller peers marched forth - some bipedal, some quadrupedal, some resembling slithering blobs of venom, stench and flesh, but all of them using gestures and gnarls to command their peers. Those were the lieutenants, who were, for one reason or another, superior to other demons in strength and stature. Some held this honor because they were not spawned from the hellish domain, but were instead birthed by either Lucifer or one of the other Princes of Hell, and thus wielded significantly greater strength - others were your usual hellspawns, but had a lot more of the dimension's energy manifested in them. Either way, they were not someone to just fool around with. And Asmodeus's armies, counter-charging at Beelzebub's ranks from the other side of the battlefield, had dozens of such commanders too, all easily recognizable due to being head and shoulders above their peers. Often even waist above.

Floyd, alongside the crack team arranged by Beelzebub for eliminating those bastards - he wanted to call it a spec-ops team, but he figured that'd be too much of an "institution" for Hell denizens to bear - safely watched the first phase of the enormous battle at the top of a floating rocky platform, awaiting their chance to strike. The human swordsman could not be recognized at a first glance, however - he had been clad in a full set of blackened armor, and though he wasn't the type to use heavy armor with his generally swift and speed-intensive swordfighting style, he couldn't help but appreciate the security and growing strength which the suit provided. The uncharacteristic shape of the helmet made his head appear to be that of a sharp-beaked beast and Floyd himself as much of a demon as his peers, though his eyes could still be seen through the red glass eyeholes if one were to look closer.

"Damn, I feel like I could take on a whole country without a sweat with this thing," the swordsman spoke to himself, his voice distorted by the suit, as he clenched and unclenched his hand. Something about it was making him feeling reinvigorated alone. Floyd's eyes turned towards Meridiana. "Aw, you kept this cool thing just for me?"

"It was lying in our storage with nobody to shove inside." the succubus replied matter-of-factly, her eyes shifting from their friendly ranks to the enemy. The first waves of demons crashed to each other like a tidal wave hitting an insurmountable cliff, roars and screams filling the air as the monstrosities slashed and ripped one another apart, barely telling friend and foe apart and only pushing forward to kill, kill, kill. Unfortunately, it meant that it was almost impossible to tell which side had the upper hand or which one will be the first to succumb and flee. "An agent a few generations before yours crafted it to help him hunt vampires, he called it the Darkbringer Armor."

"I didn't know the people of the past had as much of a capacity towards edge as today," Floyd briefly commented. A thought popped to his mind to light a cigarette before he jumps down for demon slaughtering, but he soon realized that his new suit didn't really have the pockets for his hobby. "What happened to that bloke?"

"He, um..."

Meridiana glanced across the battlefield below before her eyes stumbled upon a small demon running across the dusted earth into the fray.

"He's over there."

As soon as Floyd's eyes caught wind of where the succubus was pointing, the demon which had once been a vampire hunter got smashed to bits by the claws of a ten foot swordwielding demon. No better time than ever to finally leap in. Floyd stood up from his knee and grabbed onto the handle of his sword, hanging on his back, speaking:

"Alright, that asshole dies first, he killed such a bro..."

"You know you're going to end up in his place one day, right?"

"Maybe, but for now, I've got a bunch of my future torturers to kill. Before I go and do something stupid, though... how do you kill a demon?"

"You do the hacky slashy and that should be enough. We're not fallen angels."

"Fair enough."

Without any further warning, Floyd suddenly leapt forward, flying dozens of meters into the air with a single jump and ending up immersed in the unseen part of the battle - hundreds of flying demons, each with a pair of mutated and deformed wings, were clashing above the battlefield with fire and claws. No better time than any to test one of the Darkbringer Armor's abilities which Meridiana advertised like she was channeling her inner telemarketer - Floyd suddenly yanked his left hand forward, the left armor glove suddenly shooting forward at the top of a speeding chain, attaching to the ankle of one of the flying demons. Before it could realize what was going on, the glove suddenly pulled the swordsman forward and the sharp blade of his weapon cleanly split it into two halves.

"Woohoo!"

Fueled by the rush of excitement of adrenaline, Floyd threw his extending arm forward towards an another flying demon a dozen or so meters away, this time piercing straight through their chest and smashing the monster's body into several pieces as if they had been struck by a powerful torpedo. The swordsman continued leaping from flier to flier until he finally got close to the bastard he had sworn to murder first... excluding all the demons which he had murdered already, that is.

Bingo.

A metallic glove attaching itself to his elongated horn got the demon's attention right as it was about to smash its weapon down on a congregation of enemies, and the powerkul knee drop into its face which followed got the demon to scream and stumble back. As soon as it stopped in its flinch and looked down to see what was trying to ruin its merry day, it witnessed a some sort of... unfamiliar armored demon with a sword in his hand standing before him. Despite their miniscule size in comparison to the lieutenant, their stance betrayed unseen confidence.

"Who are you..." escaped from the demon's mouth as it turned around, smacking aside a few weaker underlings in its path, the glowing demon weapon in its hand turning them to ash upon touch. Floyd raised his eyebrow, obscured by the dark helmet, then suddenly sheathed his weapon.

"I'm the instrument who's gonna shove ya into a shepherd's pie." he shot back, then clapped with his hands. "Unless ya can pull off the impossible and touch me. Even once. Come on. Toss that die."

As expected, the demon didn't take getting taunted very well, charging forward and swinging his weapon in a frenzy, screaming "RAAGH!" Floyd remained stationary, cracking a fake laugh, until the very last second, until he suddenly leapt up to avoid a wide horizontal swing and began to run towards the demon himself.

Perfect. If that weapon has a some sort of ash-turning power, then I can't let myself get touched by it. Taunts will make him attack impreciself and leave it easier for me to deal with. A few powerful chops at the ground, each one strong enough to leave cracks in the hellish soil and pick up dust, followed.

"Got you, you little-" the demon screamed after the last swing, only to suddenly notice something sitting on his head, immersed in the monster's flaming hair.

"Are ya trying to fight me or chopping onions? Either way, your skills make me want to cry."

"RAAGH!" the demon screamed, grabbing onto its hair, but once again failing to catch the nimble swordsman, who leapt through its fingers just in time. Sliding down the monstrosity's forearm, Floyd stabbed his sword into the flesh and dragged the weapon down with himself downwards, breaking through armor and flesh alike and leaving a long and deep slashing wound, practically splitting the arm in half. The demon screamed in utter pain and agony, and, upon witnessing the culprit standing on the ground in front of him and visibly stretching, as if he was warming up, overwhelmed this pain with seething rage.

The demon opened its jaw, releasing a massive wave of fire at his opponent and everything else which dared to stand behind him in a fifty meter radius - in response to which, Floyd crossed his arms, relying on the fire protection of the Darkbringer Armor to pull him through. This might not be the real deal, though... The fire obscures my senses, if this bastard is smart, he will definitely-

"Whoa!"

Much like Floyd had predicted, the demon's enchanted weapon went down towards him as the fire poured through, and the swordsman barely made a dodge roll to the side in time to stay out of the way. This, however, also presented an opportunity. As soon as the blade of the weapon slammed down on the ground, Floyd darted forward, pushing through the intense flames and, in the nick of time, grabbing onto the monster's wrist as it rose up.

Sensory precision, do your wonders. His massively enhanced eyesight quickly registered several weakpoints in the demon's wrist - a few cracks in the armor and cuts underneath, probably a relic of the many previous battles it had fought. Without further hesitation, and before the demon could shake him off, Floyd cocked his sword back and slashed straight through the cracks, the armor in his blade's back swiftly giving in, followed by the flesh and bone. Seconds later, the demon's hand and the sword in its grip fell to the ground, the weapon losing its enchanted glow, while the monstrosity itself screamed in pain.

"I'd leave you to bleed out and get pulverized after getting both of your arms fucked up, but..."

Pushing himself off the arm stump, Floyd leapt into the air and promptly sent his extending glove straight at the demon's face. And for the grand finale... The glove pulled him towards his opponent's head at ridiculous speed and, moments later, two superpowered legs smashed straight through its skull, splashing flesh and brain matter everywhere and letting the decapitated body unceremoniously drop to the ground.

"Smokin'!" Floyd exclaimed as soon as he landed back on the ground with a slide half a dozen meters away, and sheathed his weapon. Not gonna lie... that was a LOT of fun. And it was just the beginning. The gigantic battle was unfolding right before his eyes, thousands of demons awaiting to be smashed and slashed to bits. Already, a few dumb imps made the foolish mistake of trying to latch onto his body and slash at the armor with their claws, one getting grabbed by its neck and face-planted to the ground, while the other got hacked into several bits.

"Can't even respect the laws of privacy, sheesh..."

Floyd stopped for a second, to admire the utter chaos and destruction stretching across the entire battlefield - a foolish mistake. A spawn of venom and poison began to rise from the ground behind him, looking down upon the swordsman and preparing to strike. Floyd had, in fact, noticed the spawn and the slithering, slimy sound it had made, but paid it no mind until it was almost too late.

Suddenly, the sound of a gating spell activating beneath the spawn's stomach reached both of their ears, followed by the visual of a spinning pentagram - before the monster suddenly got dragged to a portal downwards with a fading scream. Which instantly got Floyd to jump and exclaim:

"Jesus fuck, what was that?!"

"Floyd Tolson, you couldn't be more careless if you tried." Meridiana's voice reached him from the side - the succubus was approaching him, her right hand stretched out forward and emanating a dark crimson glow for a few seconds before fading away. "First you charge forth without warning anyone, then you take on a lieutenant all by yourself, then you outright dismiss a Venom Spawn, even though its poison is strong enough to melt your armor and turn your insides to a puddle."

Indeed, the rest of the demon warriors who had been supposed to tag along with Floyd were now in the fray. Even the centaur looking bastard - he was utterly ripping through enemy lines, riding through blob of imps after blob of imps, a few friendly fliers tagging along with him to breathe fire at any survivors.

"Okay, to be fair, I didn't know we were even waiting for an order in a realm of chaos, that lieutenant wasn't much of a problem to deal with, and I didn't know anything about those slimy knobheads before I charged in. So, lemme just say it, it was your fault from start to finish."

While Meridiana was sighing at Floyd's thick-headedness, the swordsman reflectively grabbed a nearby incoming imp and smashed its spine with a single swift knee blow.

"That was our demon!" the succubus exclaimed.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know?!"

"Look... just tag along with us from now, okay? Before you start breaking records on Beelzebub's least useful investments."

"I..."

The succubus turned around and spread her wings, taking off to the air and flying after the rampaging centaur. Floyd blinked for a few seconds. Did she just... pull of an insult on me? Fucking hell, demons never do that...

"Get back here, woman!"

[Segral]

Carter Graystone
A Brief Summary of Events Before and After a Polish Insect-Fanatic Beat Up the Pseudo-Police

Trader Joe's was hell enough when you were in there shopping as a normal consumer, with over-inflated prices, bad lighting, and an abundance of plastic containers staring you down from every possible direction, but with three massive juggernauts out for your blood, it made running around in the store quite difficult. Figuratively and literally.

While the other two juggernauts were having a very difficult time pushing themselves into the building, thanks to their size and the fact that they had unwisely chosen to move in at the same time, the third had managed to break free and was charging out from the checkout counters, headed straight for Carter's Midwestern ass. OK, panic time. With a small "eep", he leapt back, seizing a nearby crate of chocolate-covered almond packages with a gust of wind, lifting it a few inches off the ground in ready. But something was off. There was an odd buzzing in his ear, and he felt the molecules radiating off of him start to go haywire. He could hear an odd...scraping noise, and what sounded like stomps. Suddenly, it clicked.

With a grunt, he launched the crate, purposefully off to the side of the juggernaut staring him down. The jugg aimed to swipe it down, but missed, and the crate kept flying, landing squarely in the chest of one of the juggernauts at the door, who had happened to untangle himself from the pile. The suit of armor toppled back, crashing hard into an ice machine in the back and promptly being coated in a mix of chocolate-covered-almonds and half-melting ice cubes. That sound had been what Carter had heard. Maybe this forcefield radar-sense thingy had some merit to it.

However, while his plan had launched a preemptive strike, it had forgotten about the...emptive strike. The third juggernaut still continuing to bear down on him. His legs were burning from how much running and jumping he had been doing, but he was no couch potato, he still could go a little bit longer. With a leap, he hopped straight upward and locked his hands around the top edge of a hanging chalkboard-style sign, something that read about some deal on apples. It was suspended by two chains, each one at a top corner of the sign. Eagerly, the juggernaut extended its arm to punch down the sign, but Carter wouldn't let it, using another gust of air to push the sign swinging backward in the opposite direction, causing the juggernaut to miss its grab and fall off-balance. But every action had a reaction, and the chalkboard swung forward like a pendulum, clipping the jugg right in the face as it looked up and knocking on its behind.

Laughing, Carter let go of the blackboard as it swung back again, preparing to hit the jugg with a pressurized strike in the chest, even beginning to compress the air molecules in front of him. However, the juggernaut had another idea, its massive jet-boots flaring up and causing it to jump several feet, landing mere centimetres away from Carter's nose. Yelping, he released the pressure in an attempt to push the jugg back as he stumbled backwards, thrown off balance and very shocked at the impact. The juggernaut recoiled slightly, but did not relent, grabbing Carter by the scruff of his neck and flinging him through the air at an aggressive speed.

Flailing, he attempted to slow his fall down with his air technique, but it was no use, as while he managed to slow down quickly enough to avoid serious injury, he forgot that he was on a bit of a tilt, and landed hard directly on his left wrist. He felt something down there snap with the crack of a bullet, his left hand spasming. And it felt like a bullet was lodged down there, his hand and fingers burning so badly that he felt pools of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit...." he mumbled, getting to his feet in a bit of a daze. His radar was now going haywire, with the third jugg advancing on him, and the two others distant disturbances in his field. They were getting bigger though, which meant they were now untangled and moving. Crap. Crap with a massive capital "C". He was in danger. He needed Casimir to come, but for now, he could stall. Stall, stall, and stall some more.

The third jug lurched forward, but Carter was quicker, using his air to pull down a shelf of canned goods directly onto the jugg, fully pinning it under the weight of the shelf and a pile of cans and tins, causing it to stop moving. One down for now, two to go. And those two had guns. Which they were now opening fire with...at Carter. With a yelp, he ducked for cover behind another nearby crate, feeling a few bullets graze uncomfortably close to his ear. He could feel the suits clomping closer, but he needed to stay under cover. A pressurized strike would be his only weapon of destruction against these guys. He began charging again, forcing the air molecules down into a tiny space in between his hands, feeling them begin to push outwards. Unlike his suffocation move, this was quick, it was easy, a fifteen-second job.

However, he only got to six before Casimir came.

In an epic shot, Casimir webbed down the two juggs still at the counters, webbing the third one still underneath the shelf as a precaution. The two weren't going anywhere thanks to how cramped they were, and the third was practically bolted to the floor. Hell yeah, Bugboy! Or Bungeneer, whatever! Teamwork saves the day, or some cheesy shit like that! Finally, Carter had done something. He had beaten two WW officers without taking a scratch, stretched a WW patrol thin, and even went toe-to-toe with three juggernauts! Granted, they had immobilized his wrist, but he had immobilized an entire jugg in a dinky Trader Joe's!

Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to celebrate before Casimir was carrying him over his shoulder outside, apparently still afraid of some far-off danger. He sure wasn't smiling. He was sweating quite a bit though. Although he did make a good point, if they moved quickly, they could strike another patrol. The more havoc, the better. And if they were as successful as they were now, they would have no issue taking out more.

"Alright, Bugboy, let's move! Where do you propose we strike?" he asked, casually flicking through his phone with his good hand. "I hear Ash Street has plenty of roadblocks in plac

[The Republic of Atria]

Sina

"He shrugged as Sina mentioned that they couldn't get powers outside of magic. "Who knows? Maybe the crystal things that cause them changed over the course of the millions of years we weren't around. I could be wrong, but that measn I won't have to subject myself to saying Super Dra'Qunni." He replied, a small, albeit smug, smile on his face, still trying to free himself of the prior embarrassment.

She seemed to be ready and cleae headed enough that she was going to leave. Perfect timing, as he shouldn't leave his team alone for much longer. "Free food is quite the powerful motivator. Just be careful if you're going to use the oven. According to Kaban, his sister tends to almost burn down the house every time she tries. And I'd rather not have to explain all that to the cops and fire department." A half joke. Better than nothing he supposed.

"You can't just... Say things that make me all... Weird." Actually she could and likely would continue to do so after today. At least no one in the restaurant seemed to care, but he certainly didn't like it. He was conflicted about her as it was, adding onto that wasn't going to help his already tenuous relationship with her. "Yeah, I should be getting back to them and..." Sina said that she didn't expect this to go as well. Truthfully, neither did he. "Well, I guess we would've had to have something quite bad to beat how it went last time. I'm glad you're feeling better. And just a little advice for the future: Try to really make a friend among the humans. They're not nearly as bad as you think.... Most of them at least. After all, we're stuck with them." He said as he finished up.

"Again, sorry I can't take you to N'Toak right now. As soon as this whole thing with WarWolf goes away, I'll take you. Anyways. Bye, Sina." He waved and started making his way back to Wonder Island.

Sina said she didn't regret the change of pace and... Neither did he. It was good to have a friend his own age, even if she should be classified as a terrible influence. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers.

[Indo-pasif archipelago]

Wyatt

The small seconds I bought for the two of us were used efficiently by Wyatt. As soon as the flames had died down, he took flight and landed on top of one of the buildings around us. Then, his hands glowed before I felt a wave of power washed over me. Two seconds later the ground shook and moved. The road cracked, and the debris flung themselves to the Warwolf soldiers, bound them on their place and practically buried them. Draqu'ni Magic. Nice. It was the first time I saw it first hand, and suffice to say Wyatt put on a good impression. Too bad we were kinda busy doing mission there, else I would try to scour as many data as possible from the spell Wyatt cast.

The first attacks left only the Juggernaut to be dealt with, and Wyatt decided to deal with it himself. Not the wisest course of action I must say, but I did not have better ideas either. The two were quite even any way. The Dracontrhopes are well known for their resilience and strength. Bullets do not pierce their skin. Shields do not protect from their claws. That said, he is not invulnerable. I hoped he did not go too confident with his own abilities. We might have given Warwolf a hard time, but they are still the Warwolf. Professional soldiers armed with state-of-the-art technologies and guns. A lot of guns.

The duel went, and true enough it was not something Wyatt couldn't deal with. Which was good. I had already started to feel my muscles starting to ache and my ears were buzzing with a low, humming sound. I spent the night slinging spells around without the aid of my items and it taxed on me quicker than I initially thought. Relegating the duty to Wyatt was more than welcomed.

With the Juggernaut being taken care of, I focused myself to observe the area and prepare for the next step to take. I took my time to get myself a high ground, allowing me to observe the battle more easily. Scenarios raced through my mind. If Wyatt somehow got incapacitated, my paralyzing rune would be ready to stop the Juggernaut from finishing him off while I ran to him and try to bring both of us outta here. If suddenly one of the Warwolf soldiers managed to escape their tomb and tried to shot Wyatt from behind, my protection runes would be ready to sprung up and shield him. If nothing bad happened, all the better. And as it was, Wyatt did not really need my aid.

With his magic Wyatt opened up the earth to swallow the Juggernaut until only the head-part was left. He went full villain and boasted how great the two of us were against all of them, and I have to say I was worried he went to far.

"Do Not Tempt Fate Dragon," I spoke through the runes. "And Do Not Call Me Magic Boy." I wasn't sure if he could tell it, but it was meant to be a joke at him. Anyhow, the job was done and we could wrapped it to an end. That was what I thought until I saw more Warwolves were coming, with a pair of Juggernaut blocked the streets. Damn. Damn damn damn damn. Fighting a Juggernaut is one thing, fighting a pair of them? With aerial support nonetheless? Damn them Warwolf.

I tuned the mic to the channel between me and Wyatt. No time for another show. We needed to find a way out ASAP. "Is this part of your plan Wyatt? Tell me you have thought of something to get us out!" There was no way we getting out on the ground. The Juggernauts were waiting for us. To run at either direction would be running into a trap. So either way, we were stuck here. When you are stuck between two equal evils, which one would you choose?

I sighed. There was an option I could pick. I did not know if it would work though. Without waiting for his response, I sent arcane energy to my right arm and conjure the crimson shield to the air before me. After making sure I could stay balanced on it, I aimed with my left hand and another platform appeared in front of it. I repeated the process, getting faster and better with every steps. Soon I have crossed the street and landed on the roof of the building opposite of me. I ran across it until the roof once again ended and I did the same thing again, trying to keep some distance from the Juggernauts. Choppers were patrolling the sky too. There'd be no safety until we found a hiding spot.

"You really do have to taunt the guy don't you Wyatt," I reached him with the communication device. "We need to find a hide out. Somewhere to hide from them. Not for long, just enough for me their search to cool down a little bit and my Ignoring Spell could work better. Got any idea where to go Wyatt?"

[Solisian Union]

---

Yasha the Marksman

---

The Filipino agent smiled when her partner allowed her to take the call. She walked just a few meters away from her and pulled out her phone and called for Firefly. Firefly picked up the phone in exactly 8 seconds after and said, "Hi, Marksman. What do you need?"

"Hi, Firefly. I've got a report I need to tell you about before I proceed. It's about the police case, the one about the bar."

"Oh yeah? Okay, go ahead. The line is secure."

Yasha thought about what to say first. Just as she was crouching down, she realized that maybe the body was not moved by someone else but instead the body wasn't a body after all. Perhaps, just perhaps, the person was still alive and somehow got up and left the crime scene. She'd have to tell Jill about that and then also talk about the possibility of tracking down the bar owner.

She shrugged at the ideas she had and turned to telling her director about her verbal report. It took less than two minutes and already, Firefly told her, "Very good work. Keep it up and make a formal report when you return to the station with your partner. Tell her that I like what she's doing too. Give my regards. Firefly, out."

The phone was turned off and Yasha pocketed it away. She sighed as she got up and returned to her partner. When told that she'd check the car, she just nodded and remembered that she had to check out the witnesses too.

For that, she went ahead and did it. She spoke to the ones that the police already nabbed and questioned them. She spoke very good English and took notes on a very small and cheap notebook she bought along the way. It surprised some of the witnesses when they realized that the agent was a foreigner, not an American. But they complied anyway and Yasha got what she needed to get.

Already, most of the information confirmed what they got but some were nuggets. Precious ones. She'll pass this on to Jill.

The last witness, though, was a troubling one. The guy was young, shifty and had attempted to escape the scene after the police got him. He wasn't a suspect, Yasha realized, but he seemed scared. She told the officers to hold on to him and turned back to report to Jill.

She told her, "Well, what they've said mostly confirms what we already know. On the other hand, some of the witnesses got some nuggets that you and I might make good use of. The last witness though, a teenager, seems pretty shifty. He's already tried to make it out of here. He seems a little scared. It's probab-" She was interrupted by a shout from one of the officers and the appearance of a running figure. Yasha groaned and said to Jill, "Fuck, we have a runner." She raised her voice as she looked down at her rifle, checked for a round and then ran after the teen. She shouted, "Jill! I'm going after him!"

---

Catarina the Sorcerer of Blood and Bone

---

Being offered a cig for comfort was a surprise. She looked at him, at Nicholas, for a moment before she finally accepted it with a sniffle. She sighed as she put it between her lips, knowing how to use one at least. She then leaned in to let Nicholas light her cig. When it was lit, she sighed as she pulled away, took a deep breath from it and then blew it professionally into the ceiling. She kept it between her lips and let it burn while she listened to what Nicholas had to say. Listening was getting easier and she was getting used to them. The cig made her relax but also made her get the urge to cough. And she did, a few times. But she got over it and sighed as she realized that the cig she got from him was quite nice. Maybe she'll get another from him when the chance presented itself.

It made her smile a little to see Isaac back. Then it grew when Sina showed up and that stayed with her. She stayed near Nicholas for now though, insecure and afraid that the others will hate her, be afraid of her.

[New Finnish Republic]

Red

---

Traversing from rooftop to rooftop, Red continued his over watch over Wendy. They'd switched over to taking alleyways instead of the main streets due to their previous close call, which allowed Red to relax just slightly. Still, even if there weren't Warwolf soldiers around, that didn't mean there weren't dangers on their new path.

"Take the next left at the intersection, don't look behind you," Red radioed over to Wendy after seeing a group of ragged looking men huddled up in one of the alleyways ahead of his teammate. Staring down from above, Red watched as she followed his instructions and avoided the potential danger. One of the men happened to catch Wendy out of the corner of his eye, however, and with a look that spelled trouble had begun to take a step forward in her direction.

His progress was soon halted, however, as suddenly a rederang impaled itself into the garbage can mere inches to the man's left. The ragged looking man stared up to the sky, his gaze being met with the blue visor of Red's helmet. He saw the man let out a large gulp before he turned back around to the others. Smart move, Red thought to himself before bringing his attention back to where Wendy was.

"Hey Red, Can I ask you a question?"

Red paused for a moment, glancing over their surroundings for a few moments to ensure there were no further threats ahead before answering. "Go ahead," he replied.

"I have a friend who did somethings in her past she isn't proud of when she was a kid, but she didn't have a choice in the matter. She's worried that her past is going to come back to haunt her soon, and given your colorful backstory I was wondering if you might have some advice I could tell her?"

Underneath his helmet, Red's eyebrows furrowed as he pondered over the question at hand. He knew damn well what a "friend" meant in questions like these, but given that he didn't want to try and ask her what she meant by that nor did they have the time to discuss it, he decided to humor her question.

"Well, it depends on what exactly this kind of past your 'friend' has as well as what they've done. I'm guessing it's a bit more complicated than they stole a candy bar from the gas station," he answered, attempting to figure out what he could even say next. He remained silent for a few moments, before letting out a small annoyed sigh. "But whatever it was, it all depends on what your 'friend' has done since then. It's easy to forgive the kid who hit a baseball through your window and offered to help pay for it. It's harder to forgive him if he's smashed another one without owning up to it."

Glancing over the alleyways, Red couldn't help but think of himself when giving Wendy this advice. A bit hypocritical, don't you think, he thought to himself briefly before shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he leapt towards the next rooftop building, the shock absorbers within his suit making the impact feel like nothing below him.

"Look, I don't know what your 'friend' did Wendy, and it doesn't matter. But if this person is a friend of yours, well," he paused before continuing, "I suppose they can't be all that bad of person considering all the good you've done." Red wanted to punch himself for saying something as cliché as that, but he knew that he was far from the best of advice givers. Jesus, first it's Frost Bite, now it's Wendy. When the hell did I become the team's shrink?

Rolling his eyes at the thought, Red took a small breka to reach down towards his left wrist, pressing a small button that was located there. In an instant, a map of the entire area they were located in was presented in front of him via a heads up display. After a few moments, he pressed the button once more to rid the map out of his view. "We're not far from the rendevous, Wendy. It looks clear for now, but don't get too comfortable yet because we're far from out of this shit show."

Looking over the city streets around him, Red could heart the sounds of explosions and gunfire ringing out in the distance. While they weren't in the immediate area, the increasing volume of them made it clear that they were heading in their direction. Red bit his lip, a sense of unease filling him as he thought of how the rest of the team was doing currently. He knew he didn't need to worry so much, given the talents the team possesed, but he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious for them to get the hell out of there.

"Wendy, any word from the others yet? I haven't picked up anything on my end," he asked over his headset, doing his best to hide the conern within his voice.

[Solisian Union]

Catarina the Sorcerer of Blood and Bone

---

Sometime before Catarina met the SDM and after the bar attack...

---

The Colombian girl walked on her own upon the face of the dirty sidewalk of the city of San Diego, her head up as her eyes scanned the large signs that decorated the lower sky. She was looking for a specific establishment, a certain place that would allow her to train and to refine her skills in battle in close quarters.

All because she felt for the lost members of the Outriders. She sighed as she looked down momentarily and slowed down, her legs suddenly feeling weak, her knees almost buckling if not for her taking a breath and gently getting herself together again. She moaned to herself as she took herself off the sidewalk and into an alley to lean her back against the filthy wall, her shirt getting messy on the back. She groaned as she realized that she will have to wash it again later when she got back and she remember that this was a shirt that Vendetta gave her, making her bite her lip in self-loathing.

She sighed after a while of resting and went out of the alley and continued on her way over the sidewalk, looking at signs for any trace of that boxing gym. A gym. She needed someplace that would welcome her and not turn her away or report her to the authorities.

And she found one. A large gym that was named San Pablo Fitness Center. She bit her lip again and entered this one, hoping that she'd find someone friendly to talk to about the training here...as well as hope that that someone can understand Spanish.

Luckily, it was someone who was both friendly and understanding. A Colombian woman as tall as her, older than her by a few years, with long black hair as straight as steel cables, eyes as brown as fresh eggs, legs and arms as firm as the ones that Patricia Alcivar had, jeans that were tattered along the knee area and Columbia Newton Ridge Plus athletic boots on her two feet, greeted her with a nod, a smile and a warm embrace.

The two embraced only briefly, parted and exchanged words in Spanish.

The one who welcomed Catarina said, "If it isn't my best friend, Catarina~"

"And if it isn't my dearest, Alondra."

The two spoke for a moment. Catarina found out that Alondra had moved to the United States and became a citizen through a naturalization process which was assisted by the fact that she was married to an American who owned this gym. She also became a boxer. Alondra invited her to look around the gym and see if anything is to her liking. She even gave her some cash and a gym card. When Catarina tried to say that she'd pay her back, Alondra shrugged her off and pushed her inside before the Colombian turned to other important things.

Catarina stepped in further and found a punching bag that wasn't in use. She shyly approached it after she saved her money in the pocket of her shorts and kept her gym card there too. She then assumed her usual stance, which made her look like a jungle cat getting ready to claw the hell out of the bag, before unleashing a series of swift jabs, followed by a few rough hooks and then a push against the bag to allow her to strike it with her open palms, discreetly using the bones of her hands to deliver strong hits.

She was focused on testing out the punching bag that she didn't even notice someone who was probably approaching her...

[Finland SSR]

Hellfire Road Trip, Part 2!

August 8th

---

Hellfire Road Trip, Part 3!

August 8th

Pull My Devil Trigger!

---

Hellfire Road Trip, Part 4!

August 8th

Heaven on a Landslide!

---

Swinging its massive club of a weapon across the enemy ranks and utterly smashing across dozens of demons in its wake with each strike, the twenty foot tall demonic goliath slowly made its way across the battlefield, sticking out like a sore thumb to anyone who might be watching the battle from above. Aside from a few select demons who had somehow grown as humongous as him, the lieutenant stood head and waist above its peers - speaking quite a lot about its stature in Asmodeus's army. Few dared to touch it as it powered through his Beelzebub-ian opponents platoon after platoon.

Until now.

As the demon swing its humongous weapon upward, winding it up for a powerful slam strike, an armored glove on the other end of a chain suddenly attached itself onto it, pulling in a man wearing heavy blackened armor with enough momentum that the motion of the weapon got cut short and the goliath stumbled back for a second.

"The hell are you doing there?" the demon roared, wildly shaking his weapon to try to shake the unwanted visitor off - unfortunately, Floyd was harder to peel off than that, his arm wrapping around one of the spikes and keeping the rest of the body in place in the midst of the quake. Alright, what now? This guy doesn't have many weak spots, I made it sound easier than it actually is... Seeing that remaining attached to the weapon is going to do no good, the swordsman suddenly leapt off and latched onto one of the demon's massive, elongated horns.

"Showin' my demon rodeo skills, cowboy!" Floyd exclaimed in response and suddenly sent his fist straight towards the demon's eye. Empowered by the Darkbringer Armor as well as his innate superhuman strength, the blow easily punched straight through the eye, leaving a disgusting bloody squirt and a roaring, shrieking demon in its wake. Floyd leapt straight into the air before he could get flicked off by the titan, soaring through the air and observing his opponent. His task was to eliminate the demon's weapon as well as keep it sufficiently distracted while the rest of the team prepares - easy to promise, a little bit tougher to deliver, but-

"What the hell."

The demon, in the midst of its roars, suddenly grabbed a poor little imp strolling nearby and smashed it straight into its eliminated eye - this, apparently, somehow consumed its ally and recovered all of the taken damage.

Wait, I AM in Hell, you dumb cunt!

So, it had a some sort of regeneration...

Guess I can't spend time faffing about, I have to separate that bitch from his hammer quickly.

Floyd sent his extending arm glove forward yet again, this time to try to latch onto the demon's horn and try to plan an offensive from there by scanning the weak points in its weapon-wielding arm - however, he received a rude surprise when a massive fist suddenly smashed straight into him. The force of the blow sent the swordsman straight to the ground in a powerful, earth-shattering smash, leaving a trail across the hellish rock for several meters. Not only that, but as soon as Floyd reopened his eyes and fought off the ringing in his ears, he had to make a sudden dodge-roll to avoid the demon's weapon smashing straight into him. The demon certainly had some raw strength behind those muscles... however, this also presented an opportunity.

As the weapon retreated, the titan getting ready to strike again, a retractable glove suddenly attached itself upon it - but instead of Floyd rushing after it, the swordsman started using it like a rope. Sparks of crimson red demonic energy began to cackle and form to life around his frame as a tug of war began, Floyd smirking and the demon shocked that this little guy is able to project this much brute strength. The tip of the weapon briefly went towards the swordsman, then back towards the demon, then again, and again... However, much to the demon's surprise, Floyd's strength was slowly turning out to be greater - the titan's grip over the weapon was growing hard to maintain, its fingers slowly sliding down across the handle and starting to slip.

"Get lost!" the demon roared, clearly frustrated at the impending defeat, and threw his free left hand forward to try to yank the chain away. This is exactly what Floyd had been waiting for, however - suddenly, his retractable hand let go, returning to its owner in less than a second while the demon stumbled out of balance. The perfect opportunity to pull out your sword, jump straight at the incoming hand and stab straight through the palm, pulling it down to the floor and pinning it with the weapon for good.

"Hey, hey, hey, it wouldn't be Hell if all the annoyances got lost, would it?" Floyd exclaimed as his retractable hand attached itself onto the tip of the demon's weapon yet again, this time finding a lot less resistance than before and tearing it from his opponent's grasp in a few seconds. "Now!!"

The swordsman's order was heard. Seconds later, a powerful wind wooshed across the field, followed by Meridiana sweeping past both Floyd and the demon from above, and then - several portals appeared around the kneeling, disarmed and pinned down goliath, releasing streams of powerful white fire which engulfed it entirely.

"But hey, we're marginally better than Hell, we're gonna give you a swifter end." Floyd continued as he walked through the white hot inferno unfazed and pulled his weapon out of the demon's pinned hand, in the midst of its screeching agony. Less than a second later, the swordsman suddenly leapt up.

A massive demon, standing on four legs and wielding a giant pitchfork, burst straight into the fire as it started to die down, hacking up the opponent before his eyes into several pieces as it went, and continued on with its momentum even after it had met its untimely demise. And Floyd landed on its head, holding onto one of several horns on its scalp to stay in place while he watched the massacre of lesser demons, imps and hellish creatures unfold.

"Woohoo!" he exclaimed. The plan worked! Meridiana descended down from the skies to glide across the air closer to her ally and use her portal casting magic to send several opponents down the dimensional hole with echoing shrieks, which was a better time than any for Floyd to suddenly request:

"Meridiana, status report!" Right then and there, the swordsman suddenly pulled out his sword to deal with a winged demon flying too close to his ride - several blisteringly swift slashes later, the creature's bits fell to the floor, stampeded by the four-legged demon.

"Whaat?!"

"I said-"

Someone had apparently chucked a hell hound across the entire battlefield and it was heading straight for the trio - in response to which, Floyd tossed his weapon forward with surgeon's precision to strike the hound straight in the throat, and Meridiana caught the falling corpse to pull the sword stuck inside to toss it back towards her ally.

But she still didn't hear what Floyd was shouting.

"Whaat?!!"

"BLOODY HELL, WOMAN, I'LL FORCE FEED YOU THOSE DAMN WINGS OF YOURS IF YOU TELL ME WHAT ONE MORE TIME!"

"...the fuck do you want?"

"I need a status-"

A loose shot of fire suddenly slammed into Floyd from the side, almost throwing him off. "Okay, fuck this." The swordsman leapt off the four-legged demon for a few seconds, slicing and dicing straight through several dozens of imps, before leaping back on the elevated position he had been on. "Okay, that's a little better. Status report, Meridiana! Status report!"

"What do you mean, 'status report'?!"

"Are we winning or are we losing, woman?!"

"Do I look like I fucking know?!"

"YES!!"

As was swiftly turning into tradition, a yet another annoyance suddenly struck Floyd down before his spat with Meridiana could continue - this time, from a pool of boiling blood where hundreds of Lutheran heretics were screaming their lungs out and splashing in their peeling flesh, a twenty foot tall demon with magma rock spears for arms materialized and leapt out, smashing straight into the swordsman's centaur ride. In what seemed like less than a second, the attacker tipped his ally over and drove both of its magma arms straight into their chest, the clash overtaken by roars and a rolling mass of flesh which Floyd found himself nearly overtaken by. Before he could be reduced to a stain on the floor, the swordsman leapt off, making a rough rolling landing on the ground nearby, stopping next to several cauldrons of boiling tar. And just in time, too - because as soon as Floyd stood back up, he witnessed a rolling wave of magma utterly engulf his former steed, vaporizing much of its flesh instantly as well as several unfortunate lesser demons surrounding the clash.

"Bloody hell..." the swordsman muttered underneath his breath, his hand instinctively grabbing the edge of a tar cauldron and chucking it straight towards the magma-armed demon. It smashed upon the monster's skull, covering its face with boiling tar - not that the demon even seemed to feel that - and drew its attention towards the black armored bloke standing a couple dozen meters away.

That attention quickly got solidified once Floyd's sudden Darkbringer-infused fist smashed straight into the demon's cheek, the sheer force of the blow sending the monster flying and crash-rolling.

"I'm so sick of y'all cutting me off in the middle of sentences that it's not even cathartic to punch your teeth in anymore."

While the demon was still rising up from the pile of rubble Floyd's strike left it in, Meridiana touched down on the ground next to him, groaning a little and speaking:

"You've got a bit of a problem on your hands, I see. Need any help?"

"Oh, now you actually know some shit, do ya?" Floyd briefly opened the lid of his helmet to spit to the side, then closed it again. "Stand aside, I'm dealing with this little shit myself."

"That thing just killed my brother, Floyd Tolson, it wasn't a request. It was a statement of fact."

"That thing was the third shit in the last minute which cut me off in the midst of a sentence, it's a personal matter."

"...How is that a personal matter?!" Meridiana blinked a few times, unsure how to interpret her ally's statement. "You... He... What?.. That doesn't... make sense..."

"Girl, to not make sense is the Floyd Tolson way."

The swordsman proudly and confidently stepped forward, his eyes set upon the slowly rising demon and his hand reaching towards the sword hanging on his back. No doubt, it should only take a few well-places slashes to take the bastard down, and Floyd's enhanced senses were already registering several weak points on his body, in the form of scars from battles long past. And then...

"Floyd, you're stepping into-"

"Whaat?!"

Suddenly, the swordsman stopped moving. His feet were immersed in a puddle of boiling blood, which suddenly turned solid, the liquid latching around his angles and lower leg and trapping him in place. Floyd only got a second to look down and see what had just happened as, it turned out, the demon he was about to take out was not as wounded as he thought. It suddenly leapt straight towards its trapped opponent and rammed its magma spear arm straight into their frame, a powerful shockwave rolling across the battlefield from the blow. Rocks and boulders were tipped over, the ground shattered - and yet the puddle of blood-chains remained unaffected.

"Ugh..." a muffled grunt came from beneath the arm, before a powerful force slowly pushed it away. Floyd was still there - exhausted, but standing regardless, and pushing the magma spear off of his body. "Not gonna lie... that's a lovely trick ya got there, but-"

The demon, seeing that his opponent managed to endure its full force blow, suddenly went for an another one with its other arm. A yet another powerful shockwave rolled across the battlefield. Even more boulders and cliffs got cracked and broken.

"Okay, now this is getting annoying..." Floyd's voice lingered on like a back itch you simply couldn't reach. Sparkles and crackles of demonic energy started to pop in and out of existence around his body - the second blow needed all of his strength as well as the extreme defenses of the Darkbringer Suit to fully endure the attack. The demon did not even consider yielding, however, sending a third strike, then a fourth.

"Meridianaaaa, mind to help oooout?.." a muffled voice came from beneath the magma limb after the fourth strike, in response to which Floyd received a cackle. Meridiana was floating behind him, a dozen meters away, and simply watching the massacre, occassionally sending a few fireballs towards incoming lesser demons to pass the time.

"The great Floyd Tolson needs help against an opponent?" the succubus spoke up. A fifth magma-infused fist struck the pinned down Floyd. "Oh, how tragic! If such an unstoppable warrior is forced to struggle, what help could I, a mere granddaughter of Lucifer, could possibly bring?"

"Don't you... sass me..."

Faced with a sixth strike heading his way, Floyd finally opted that he had stood around for long enough. Yelling a loud "Fack off!", in an accent which suddenly turned more Scottish than English, the swordsman deflected the incoming fist with his sword and then tossed his weapon forward like a boomerang. The blade slashed across the demon's face and forced it to step back in pain, and as soon as his sword returned to his hand, Floyd leapt forward.

Only to faceplant straight to the ground, as the pool of boiling blood was still clutching onto his feet and locking them in place.

What the hell did I think was gonna happen?

There's gotta be a way out of here. Or a way to beat this bastard while being locked to a single place. Damn it, this blood lock singlehandedly eliminated his mobility advantage... and now a magma-infused limb was looming overhead and getting ready to strike straight into his back...

Suddenly, several blasts of pure demonic energy struck the demon straight in its torso and limb joints, getting it to release several shrieks of agony and stumble back for several meters. A foot smashed into the pool of blood beneath Floyd, breaking it into several disjointed pieces and releasing Floyd from its grip - before he could stand back up and start slaughtering the demon in front of him like he was planning to, an arm grabbed onto his abdomen and lifted him up from the ground.

"You're an complete piece of work, Floyd, you know that?" Meridiana's scolding words reached his ears.

"I thought that's par for the course in your community."

Meridiana sighed and tossed Floyd straight towards the stumbling demon with superhuman force. The swordsman immediately recognized what this was supposed to be about and aimed his weapon forward as if he was a human-sized torpedo, and promptly smashed straight through the demon's chest cavity with little resistance. Blood and magma splashed all around, and Floyd continued flying through the battlefield for several more meters, before finally crashing to the tip of a large cliff just outside of the inferno of the battle - almost slipping off the boulder, but latching onto the plateau above at the last second and remaining there.

For the first time during this entire battle, or even his whole life ever since selling his soul, Floyd felt tired. Normally, the demonic strength pumped into his body would allow him to fight non-stop for days, but today has been so intense and so much of a test to his abilities that even this self-sustenance was starting to struggle to keep up. The swordsman raised his head, his vision peeking through the mountains stretching before his eyes, outside of the battlefield, and...

"Meridianaaa!"

"What?!" The succubus was busy fighting off a rather annoying pack of hell hounds below the cliff, but found the time to respond to her ally regardless.

"You still don't have that status report, right?"

"What are you on about, Floyd?!"

"Because what the fuck are those?!"

Okay, something's not right for sure. With a whip of her fingers, Meridiana cast an inferno spell, a massive amount of white hot fire suddenly pouring down upon the poor hell hounds and driving them away, then flew up to meet her ally atop the cliff - at which point she instantly realized what he had been talking about. Thousands upon thousands of demons were pouring through the passes and valleys in the mountains in the distance, charging towards the battle. The skies were being blotted by winged demons and the ground was starting to shake from all the loud, violent steps heading their way.

"That's... not Asmodeus's peeps, ain't it?"

Meridiana stared into the distance, while Floyd slowly stood back up. "Right. If my senses are correct, that feels like Leviathan's hordes..."

"So..." the swordsman muttered. "No better time to ask something I've been wondering - if I die here, do I just head straight back to Beelzebub's temple or something? So should I even worry about it?"

Meridiana stared towards Floyd. "You-"

"No better time to find out."

An unfamiliar voice suddenly reached both of their ears. Floyd instinctively reached towards his sword and-

Bling.

[Vanquaria]

---

__________________________________

Bu Helps Out Catarina
__________________________________

---

Bu had accumulated quite the number of destroyed punching bags back on Wonder Island. Normal punching bags were just too weak for him and the situation was worsened by the fact that YB's gym was comparable to Planet Fitness which is just an absolutely horrible thing to think about. Planet Fitness is an absolute dog shit of a gym, there's a fucking "lunk alarm" for people who push themselves when lifting and the purple decor of the franchise is just a fucking joke for fuck's sake what the fuck.

That was why Bu had decided, enough was enough. Screw YB's gym. Get that shit away from him. He would go check out San Diego's assortment of fitness catering facilities for himself, see if there were any good ones that matched what he was looking for or at least were the opposite of YB's gym. As a matter of fact, he'd already been to a few around town. And been kicked out of all of them for destroying punching bags...

Still, Bu was, if anything, resilient. Persevering under the jealous looks of other men and the lustful stares of the women, Bu walked all over town, half-naked, searching for a place to destroy punching bags.

San Pablo Fitness Center.

It was a big place. The bigger the better, right?

Walking inside, he approached the register and asked if they had any trial periods for potential members. He was Chinese after all, gotta save money.

The smol girl said, "Yes, we have a 7-day trial period program available. If you like the experience when the period is over then you'll have the option of signing up for a 6-month membership with fees paid fortnightly!"

"Sweet. Hook me up." Bu replied as he glanced over at the place.

Lots of sweaty normies on the treadmills. As usual. Why go to the gym if you were going to spend all your time on cardio? Come on now, even if you are a fat cunt, cardio is always better, at least in Bu's educated opinion, done in the open under the sun and on grass. Besides the fat cunts, there was also a visibly high number of skinny males using free weights. Which was not a bad thing at all, betas need the gym to grow.

Passing by the Westerners, ignoring their stares at his body, Bu headed over to the boxing corner. As usual, it was near empty. However, there was a feminine figure punching a bag with a ridiculous level of intensity. Bu knew that one does not punch with such ferocity without PURPOSE. Was she a victim of domestic violence training to get her revenge? Was she a teenage gangster? Or an aspiring professional combat sports athlete?

Attracted by the alpha vibes she was exuding, Bu approached her. He saw that the back of her shirt was stained with dirt, her skin chocolate brown and her hair black. And he saw the way she punched the bag. It was feral, instinctual even.

"Don't forget to bob and weave, bags don't punch back," he said, walking behind the bag, in front of Catarina, and placing a hand on the back of the punching bag as it reverberated from the impact of Catarina's attacks, "and thrust your palm upwards like an uppercut."

[Segral]

Sir Edward Whilton of York
A War of Emotions

His new home was now placed within the small custody section of the police station, a set of rusty cells set in the back of the decrepit, miserable hovel. His "bed" was all the indication that was needed. It smelled like something hellish, the thin mattress and terribly ragged sheets stained a pale yellow and coated with many small holes, small holes that had come from the den of mice that had formed in a crack in the brick wall. The pillow was even more useless, with much of the stuffing gone and scattered across the floor, thanks to the aforementioned mice holes and what appeared to be the slash of a knife. Why was there a slash of a knife? Because inside the pillow lay the knife, as well as another firearm. He had asked Issac what it was, and it was apparently a "Glock 17". Interesting. It was similar to the one he had picked up after massacring that criminal. Now he had two to add to his collection.

The rest of the cell was not very sanitary either. The floor was practically filthy, with little evidence of any cleaning supplies aside from a lone mop in an empty bucket in the corner. The grimy walls were not much cleaner, with drywall on two sides and brick on the back, with only a grimy, barred window breaking the monotony. As well, there were some very strange...objects hidden in the bed frame, underneath the mattress. Several bullets, another gun called a "Sig Sauer", a small ziplock bag full of powders and wrappers, and two needles, like those awful vampiric black magic syringes that Edward had to go through at the doctor's office. Issac had warned him to stay away from them at all costs, and Edward had no desire to use those grimy, somewhat bloody needles.

However, the very worst was the sink, oh lord Jesus the sink. By the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, the sink was the filthiest thing he had ever seen. It was completely rusted over and decorated in the thickest, grayest line of grime he had ever seen. Some of the metal had even stained over. The taps made an awful screeching sound at the slightest touch, there were stray tissues layering the bottom, and the drain was completely clogged by a black mass. Putrid.

So for now, he stayed firmly rooted on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't groomed in days, he could see his beard growing thick in the mirror, his hair growing long behind his ears in the cracked mirror. There were no razors here, nothing he could groom himself with, something irritating but not as annoying as this uncomfortable, freezing bed. The others appeared to be too upset over the loss of Sister Alexis and Brother Sebastian to care. He missed them too, but he was doing his best to ignore it. If he could briefly forget it happened by keeping himself busy, then for a little while, it's as if they weren't gone, and everything was back to normal. He liked that feeling, so he tried to preserve it as much as possible.

Only, there was not much he could keep himself busy with. There was no hope in cleaning, no space to improve his body, no motivation to do anything. So most of the time, he slept. Even when he wasn't tired. Sometimes he would fidget with the Glock in his hands to keep himself busy, even if he had no idea how to make them shoot. Exactly as he was doing now as he reflected on the previous nights, that fateful night where his team was torn apart.

It came mostly in short memories. Mostly of the drinking at the bar. Nick and Brianna conversing. Vendetta and Issac doing the forbidden snake dances. Sina drunk on the floor. Catarina sleeping. And him. Turning the jukebox on, dancing, singing as he broke the table. Bullets in the drywall, fire, his cut fingers from holding Catarina's claws. "Magar"...the name he had given himself. He didn't like that name anymore, it reminded him too much of what had happened.

As he fidgeted, he felt something pop open in his hands. The pistol. Looking down, he saw that it was in two parts. The gun seemed to be intact, but there was an odd...cartridge, some sort of case. It seemed to fit snugly into a slot in the gun. What did they always do in those western Cowboy movies on the $0.99 cent sales at the local store? Put the...bullets in? But what was this case called? The...tabloid? The newspaper? The bugle? The post? The magazine? YES, the magazine!

Sitting up, he slid off the bed, leaving the two parts atop the mattress. Reaching underneath the thin sponge, he pulled up, revealing several bullets wedged inside a metal frame. They were concealed well, hidden at the corners of the beams and pushed into a tight case by the side of the mattress, lined up and stacked on top of each other. There was at least a dozen, maybe more. Curiously, he pried one off of its stack, thumbing the small pellet in his fingers. With a sigh, he set the mattress back down and grabbed the magazine, holding the two objects up to what little light filtered into the room through the window. Carefully, he pushed the bullet inside the magazine, and miraculously, it stuck fast!

There was one more step he had to perform according to the cowboy movies. Picking up the main body of the gun, he felt around the top for some sort of slide. There it was! He could feel the groove with his fingers. Gripping tight, he pulled back, feeling the slide push back and click. But it didn't move back, staying rooted to the spot. Did he break it? Maybe. But he wouldn't know until the end of this quest. Trembling with excitement, he jammed the tabloid back into its slot, feeling it lock in place. But how would he push the slide back? Grunting, he tried to push it in, with no success! He grabbed, pushed, shoved over the top, nothing. Had he truly broken it?! Panicking, he pulled back, and felt it click again and slip out of his fingers, sliding back into place. Note to self, always pull the slide again.

So now it was "loaded". Shaking, he held the gun up shoulder-high, trying to appear like a responsible, trustworthy cowboy. Or knight, if knights used these Glocks and Pig Sauers. His finger was trembling, so close to the trigger. He needed to shift it. But his finger wouldn't stop shaking, and soon, it caught on the trigger...and pulled back.

Edward practically screamed as the BANG went off, dropping the now-empty gun onto the floor and leaping on the bed, curling up in a ball to protect his head. He had heard glass breaking! This was a demon tool, a Muslim black magic tool! When he pulled the trigger, it was enchanted to bring the Devil himself back into this world through an unholy portal and destroy the world. He could feel quaking, he could feel shaking, he could feel noises ringing in his ears!

After several minutes of rocking back and forth on the bed, weeping with terror at how he had brought upon the end of the world, he looked up, very aware that his soul was not passing to heaven yet. Nothing had happened. The only difference was that the mirror was gone, now split into several fragments on the sink and floor, alongside the forgotten gun. And there was a sizable gap in the drywall.

Maybe this weapon had some use.

---

Trent Baker
August 9th

He was truly dealing with the devil.

The Outriders. They had been on the news for days upon days. News of massive mafia ambushes, of attacks at the docks. Confirmed sightings regarding some woman named Vendetta, and a report of her missing and presumed dead. Dragons, literal dragons flying through the sky according to police body camera footage. A body count of dozens, and a firearm count to match that. Of course, none of this was on those tinpot news channels. Being a member of the San Diego Militia, one had access to informants everywhere, and information traveled quickly. Every word was invaluable.

God, he felt like such a fake-deep spy. James Bond, but one who repairs elevators and plays rugby.

He could barely even comprehend why or how he had got up the nerve to join the Militia. Father bear mentality? He was unhappy with the new levels of crime, after all, not a day went by where there was a report of another robbery, another hit, another murder, some gang-related pipe bombing of a restaurant party. Alley crouchers lurked everywhere, it was a dangerous place, especially for children. Just in the past few months, three homes had been broken into, all of them armed, each one taking at least $5000 worth of goods, and each one escaping. Was he going to make much difference in the long run? Not really. So why was he doing this? Sense of community, maybe? He had plenty of free time on his hands after getting the axe at work, and as much as he loved taking care of the kids, he needed something to do, something that made him belong.

Maybe that was his answer.

Suddenly, the chat screen pinged. At first, he had been...reluctant about the use of Discord to communicate with this stranger. He had always thought about it as a place for horny single men and young gamers. He knew his son Ethan loved it, he would stay up half the night chatting with his friends. He was clearly under the impression that his parents didn't notice, but they simply chose to turn a deaf ear until his growth started to stunt and his grades started to drop. Until then, it was his own free will, and punishment would only deter him for a few days until he was back at it again. But for him, he had always seen it as a children's tool. But it was quite private and great for private messaging. And it was free.

Flipping into the private messaging screen with expert ease, he checked who the ping was from. FinchBird#7543. Of course. His secret Outrider contact, the one that would send him white-water rafting up shit creek if anybody caught him. But nobody would catch him. He made sure of that. The Outriders had never been mentioned by name within the chat (he had called him to confirm the details), and they always kept their language vague. Even still, Trent always used a VPN when on the site, just to give an extra level of security.

"It's me, I think you sold me on the SDM. I would like to gather some friends of mine and meet up at your rally tonight at the Convention Center. Want to see what the SDM is all about in person. Think you can introduce me to a chapter leader or something when we get there?" he muttered aloud to himself, reading off of FinchBird's message. Success! Eagerly, he began typing back, a new energy and zeal within him as he sipped the cup of coffee beside him.

That's great. Can you meet by the front doors at 7:00? I can guide you to some district chapter members.
If we're lucky, I might find someone higher-up.

"Trent?" a female voice asked as Trent hit the "Enter" button, leaning back and swiveling in his chair to face Cecilia leaning against the door. In one week, it would be their thirteenth anniversary. "Hon, Ethan and James are at it again, can you sort them out?" she asked, a weary and somewhat bemused smile on her face. Trent sighed in response, responding with a lazy grin of his own. "Can't you sort it out?" he asked, a trace of Brit still hanging in his accent. "I'm conferencing with someone important."

"No can do," she said, walking besides him and placing her arm on his shoulder. "I tried, but that PS4 is really tearing things up, and they listen to you more. Plus, this legal case is swamping me, the patents for it are so detailed that it's turning into a mess of bureaucracy," she said, rubbing her temples. The good ol' PNB-Charlotte case of patent infringement. It was turning into a massive spectacle, with incredibly detailed tech patents and alleged infringement issues so minor that it was hard to see exactly what was being copied.

"Alright." he reluctantly replied, standing up and stretching. "I'll go sort them out and deal with this after. That bloody PS4 needs to go, it costs a fortune and all it's caused is fighting.

"Oh, you're exaggerating," she said lightly, punching him in the arm a bit. "They love that thing, can you imagine the level of teenage rebellion that would come out of James? Besides, you've been so absorbed in this Militia business, it's good for you to do something else once in a while. Any callbacks yet?"

"Nope." he grumbled, obviously peeved at the thought of it. "Damn robots are taking my job, all the good positions are being swiped away. Even then, elevators are breaking down less and less, so more and more companies are downsizing. It's so bad for employment numbers, especially with all these growing populations."

"Don't get so worked up, hon." she said, patting him on the back. "You just gotta wait, I'm sure something will come up soon. OK?" she asked, pecking him on the cheek before leaving to untangle more patent law.

"Yeah, alright." Trent said with a sigh, before grudgingly heading off to battle the grunts and shouts of his two sons starting their own reenactment of World War II.

[Solisian Union]

Catarina the Sorcerer of Blood and Bone

---

Meeting Bu at the Gym...

---

"Don't forget to bob and weave, bags don't punch back," he said, walking behind the bag, in front of Catarina, and placing a hand on the back of the punching bag as it reverberated from the impact of Catarina's attacks, "and thrust your palm upwards like an uppercut."

Bob and weave. Catarina understood that but not the rest of what the guy told her to do. The Colombian kept going at the punching bag but followed his advice on the uppercut, using her right hand to thrust her palm outwards against the bag as she again used her bones to reinforce the strike, the bag suffering from her strike, some of the sand spilling out already at her violence.

The Colombian stopped and let out an embarassed squeal when she realized that she broke the bag. She sighed as she touched the bag and stopped it from moving with Bu's help.

She looked down at some of the sand coming out and forgot to withdraw the bones she used on her hands, allowing Bu to probably notice them. She shook her head and said something in Spanish as she looked up to him and then smiled politely.

She told him, "H-Hello. Thank you?"

She giggled nervously. Please don't let it be a police officer, she hoped.

She then looked to her right and left and then back to him, blushing madly as she scratched her head and then rubbed her arm as she stepped away from the bag and addressed him. She said, "W-Who....you?"

---

Attempting to confess to Edward

---

Catarina was not a stranger to guns and she wasn't even startled by the fact that one went off. She had been waiting for a chance to approach Edward, hoping that she did not come at a time that was not so bad for him. She heard him weep, she heard him work, she heard him rock back and forth on the bed like a broken man. It reminded her badly of her past, of being treated so badly by the communist rebels and by the other troublemaking forces of the country she called home while the man she wanted to talk to was disturbed, bothered by the world he was in now.

She realized he was a holy one, a Crusader. And she trembled before him now.

She hoped he would not cut her down and bury her as a pagan whore. She didn't want to be the victim. Instead, she wanted to talk to him. To try to confess. To make amends.

She sighed, she knocked on the wall close by and she said, "Ex....excuse me, Edward."

[Vanquaria]

---

__________________________________

Bu Helps Out Catarina
__________________________________

---

"Oh wow!" Bu exclaimed when Catarina defied all expectations and PIERCED the punching bag, causing sand to spill out from it.

He pulled out the image of what he'd just seen and replayed it in slow-motion within his mind. So...she was a fellow superhuman like him. Then he returned back to the present only to see the bone STILL protruding from her palm!

He raised an eyebrow but he was amused instead of repulsed. Bu pretended not to notice it, it was part of her body after all and focused on her instead. She was a tad clumsy and it seemed English was not her first language. She was also blushing madly, he guessed it was from embarrassment.

"My name is Bu," he told her, "I am a Young Blood."

Then he mimicked a 1-2 punching motion, even making sound effects with his mouth, and said, "I do kung fu," he gestured to the damaged punching bag and laughed, "And I'm here to break punching bags just like you, haha!"

[Solisian Union]

Catarina the Sorcerer of Blood and Bone

---

Meeting Bu at the Gym...

---

It was...amazing, honestly, to watch this guy do that motion and to speak like that. She knew the words...kung fu. Yeah, she remembered, that's Asian. Chinese. She at least knew that much. She smiled at that as she rubbed her arm nervously and told him, "Bu. Nice name, I think."

She giggled again and, nervously now, as she tried to adjust to talking to someone as the guy faced her, she said, "Um, I am....Catarina. Catarina Velasquez. From Colombia." She then took a deep breath and quickly tried to regain her confidence before him. She nodded and looked at his eyes straight on. Her eyes, though, were truly of a huntress. One whose past was as violent as the country's history and one as interesting and exotic as her being.

She told him, "So...you teach me how punch?"

[Vanquaria]

---

__________________________________

Bu Helps Out Catarina
__________________________________

---

Seeing her mannerisms being acted out in front of him, Bu inferred that this girl didn't talk to people much. A shame, in his opinion, for she seemed interesting to say the least. The language barrier probably dosen't do any favours for her he thought as he smiled warmly at her. Thankfully, her proficiency at English was so far not hindering their interaction with each other, at least at that moment it was'nt.

"I have a nice name? You have a beautiful name!" he looked into the eyes and saw something that most definitely did not belong within a teenage girl like her but he continued, "Well, hola Catarina Velasquez."

She told him, "So...you teach me how punch?"

Bu nodded, "Yeah I'll teach you how to punch," then spun around and jogged up to the fitness center's boxing ring. Sliding his body through the ropes, he stepped onto the white canvas and beckoned with his hand for Catarina to follow, "Come! You wanna learn how to fight, dont'cha?"

[Solisian Union]

Catarina the Sorcerer of Blood and Bone

---

Meeting Bu at the Gym...

---

The girl blanched.

She hesitated when the man entered the boxing ring and invited her inside. She looked around, afraid, afraid that the men and women in the fitness center would stare at her, look at her, report her to the police because she might use her powers or because she is an illegal in the United States or because she might hurt him too much.

Catarina opened her mouth then closed it then brought her hand up to protest against his invitation but lowered it then she gave up, climbed into the ring, having accepted his hand and once in the ring, she told him, "You okay I fight you? What I hurt you too much?" She then sighed and whispered, "I afraid."

[Vanquaria]

---

__________________________________

Bu Helps Out Catarina
__________________________________

---

Bu grinned and spread his arms out, "Forget about the world, Catarina, forget about it all," he pointed to the ring's white canvas surface and said, "Right here? Right now? It's just me and you. Simple as that."

He approached the Colombian girl and placed a gentle hand on her small shoulder and said in a reassuring tone of voice, "Girl, please, you won't even get a scratch on m-!"

Bu interrupted his own sentence with a lightning-fast sweeping kick across Catarina's legs, knocking her off-balance. He bounced backward and took a comedically exaggerated kung fu stance, that of Bruce Lee in the movies. He rotated his hips around, stretching his upper torso.

"Lesson 1 of any fight. Always be on your guard no matter what!"