The Last Generation - A Metahuman RP [IC]

[Syrixces]

This is the The Last Generation IC:

OP: Me
Co -op Empire of Gibraltar.

The year is 2018. After acquiring nuclear technology from North Korea, a group of Extremists set off a Nuclear Warhead in the center of Tel Aviv. Israel on the fritz, launches a new international security division, Sector 9. On a warpath, Israel launches strategic hits on multiple Middle Eastern targets, before locking down beneath the Iron - Grid laser defense. Outraged, a coalition amongst the world's richest Islamic nation forms, naming itself the Prophet's Dome, and launching an invasion of Southern Europe and Northern Africa, taking over Turkey and Morocco within a week. Taking advantage of the confusion, Russia launches an assault upon China, lurching for it's resources, resulting in nuclear fre between Russia and the USA, destroying Beijing, Moscow and New York at once. Japan blockades its shores, and begins an isolated genocide project, destroying, it's "weaker blood", while in search for the secret to perfecting the human body. The Pope has called for a unity of Christian nations, to unite the withering world beneath the blanket of faith, and has succeeded in uniting Italy, Germany and The UK, causing rioting and progroms throughout. Amongst it all stands the Prophet, a mysterious figure supposedly running a virtually invisible network of information and arms, keeping this war going. You, are a member of the top secret Operation: Silverfish, the USA's last chance. A collection of freaks, geeks and monsters, you alone stand in the way of genocide, murder, war and devastation. Your first mission?

Find the Prophet.

In order to begin in the IC, please make an ic post, of your character's current location and activities, and wait for a Silverfish, or Prophet response.

Hero / Independent:

"Begin the Silverfish Initiative. Launch the extraction squads. "

Villain:

"Send the message. Now, we play. "

[Empire of Gibraltar]

Viktor Rusbaston - Stormcloud | Flying from LA to St. Petursburg

---

Viktor sat in his private jet with a glass of vodka and a journal in his hands. He was heading back to Russia after a 2 month mission in the US. His mission was to find out who caused the disaster that destroyed his hometown and the Russian capital, Moscow. He has discovered that the cause was someone known as the Prophet. No one knows anything else about him except that. However the Americans have started a program, known as Silverfish to find out the identity, and hunt down the man.
He had sat writing down his observations in the journal for a short while when he landed in Chicago to refuel. It must have looked weird, seeing a Russian in a white tuxedo, and sunglasses in the terminal. He had many ugly comments shouted at him but he kept to himself. All he wanted was to get the jet refueled so he could take off again. They mostly stayed away but one walked into his face. He made a horrible mistake and he pushed Viktor. Viktor looked back at him with eyes that could freeze over hell. And grabbed the mans arm. Twisting it around and shoving it into his back. Almost snapping his arm. The assailant cried out in pain. When another man approached him Viktor whipped out a pistol made of plastic, and pointed it at the new man. When the new man cowered at the gun Viktor dropped the original man and ran. He wasn't running at one hundred miles per hour but he was running faster than any ordinary man could. He got to the plane just as it finished refueling. The pilot was wondering why he was here so quickly. Viktor didn't explain and just told him to get the plane in the air. The guards ran out the door just as the plane took off from Chicago. They would have to skip Boston, although it would be a stretch they would make it to London. As it would be to much of a risk to land in America again. The military wouldn't divert the Airforce as they had bigger problems to deal with, but the Boston police would be alerted.

---

Muhammad Akuma - Bishop | Outskirts of Dubai, United Arab Emirates

---

Bishop was driving through Dubai in his car, Luna, which was a Completly Black Ferrari Berlinetta F12 with Black Tinted windows, and illeagal engine mods. He was driving with his lights off, when he pulled into a street race. A burly man walked up to his vehicle, and he lowered down the window just enough to say he wanted a race for pink slips.
The man pointed to a Blue Lamborgini Hurican, "He is racing for pink slips, the man thinks he's unstoppable." He said in Arabic before handing him a map, "And here's a map of the route."
When the Bishop pulled up next to the Blue Lamborgini, the man rolled down his window to show, an American in a cowboy hat. He must be an American oil cowboy. He would very much enjoy beating this man.
"Roll down your window so I can see y'all." The cowboy said,
The Bishop stayed quiet, and an Arabic girl in a bikini top, and short shorts walked between the two of them. She rose a cloth, "Ready?" Looking at the American,
"Ah ya!"
"Steady?" Looking at Bishop, but only got silence.
"Go!"
Both the cars leap of the starting line, with Bishop's Ferrari getting the lead. But when they hit the corner the Lamborgini got ahead. The cowboy couldn't keep up with his giant F12 in the straight always, but would pass him in the corners, after large amounts of turns and rushing down city streets, they hit a road going int the desert with the Hurican in a 100 foot lead. The Bishop stomped on the gas, and the purring of the engine turned into a roar as it accelerated very quickly, A gear shift every few seconds and the gap closed quickly, the finish line approached very quickly, and at the last second the Bishop threw everything he could at it. And within the last 10 feet of the race passed the Huican. He whipped the steering wheel, sliding into an empty spot behind the cheering crowd.
The American walked up to his car, with a very angry face. Bishop lowered the window all the way this time letting the Cowboy see his strange all black attire. "I assume you're here to give me that pink slip?" The Bishop said with a very deep voice due to his voice changer.
The American answered not with words but by whipping out a giant .500 Magnum revolver.
"Okay, Okay just let me get my pink slip, and he checked in his center console. He grabbed his handgun, and teleported behind the man. Putting the handgun to his head. "I'd suggest dropping the gun, and handing me your pink slip." He said very calmly. Walking with a gun to the mans head, as he walked back to his car. The Cowboy took his pink slip and keys and handed them to the Bishop.
"I thank you very much, I'll now lower the gun. I advise against doing something stupid." He told the American grabbing the items.
One of his henchmen walked up from the crowd silent, he got thrown the keys and the slip. The Bishop got in Luna, and his henchmen the Lamborgini. He had just added an interesting car to his collection.

[Cainesland]

Calvin's looked down upon the green fresh cut faux-grass beneath his feet. Sandals and shorts showed off his pasty tanned white skin. His Hawaiian themed shirt made him appear more touristy then he normally would look. Looking through his sunglasses he gazed down upon his shaft. His rod fell adjacent between his feet, spaced 12 inches apart. The hole rested a few feet away, past the windmill and is spinning fans of doom. He clenched the handle of his club and tapped the green mini-golf ball down the green. Relieved at the sudden relief of stress, his sinuses filled with the succulent stench of the sea. In one gulp his lungs expanded like a blimp. In another moment his lungs air escaped like someone had just opened a balloon and let go. He stepped around the windmill. Much to his imagination he saw a green ball in the 18th hole. A perfect game.

"Very impressive sir" announced a Crewmember.

"What?" Neil calvin responded. He couldn't really not lose a game so he wasn't sure what the crew member meant.

"And as the 1st person to do so on this vessel you have won a free meal in the first class lounge"

Neil smiled. Despite having assets valued somewhere between 800 million and a billion dollars, he always found that nothing was quite like a free anything. But a free meal most of all.
"Thank you sir" Neil said as the crew member have him a voucher before the Crewmember moved on to prevent a child from walking their sibling with the club.

[The Greater Dutch Republic]

Ruins of Tel Aviv, State of Israel:
The man in the yellow hazmat suit walked through the ruins of a dead city. An assault rifle in his hand and a yellow, black, and red shield on his back, he walked closer and closer to Ground Zero. Suddenly, the radio in his helmet crackled to life. "This is Antwerp Actual to Captain Belgium, are you there, Cap?". Captain Belgium winced at the sudden noise, but responded. "Roger that, Antwerp Actual, what's wrong?". The other man sounded nervous. "We have multiple humans converging on your position, satellite images show them to be Russian". Kompany cursed under his breath. The Russians where probably here for the same reason he was, to find clues to the Prophet's location. Still, Belgium and Russia were in a state of war, and Russians wouldn't hesitate to shoot once they saw the Belgian flag on his shoulder. Lifting the Rifle, he advanced forwards. He didn't like to use the rifle, preferring to use his limited powers over Earth, but they were just that. Limited. So he had to rely on his trusty shield and his rifle. He figured her have some fun with the Russians, though. Turning the corner, he saw the first Russian soldier, who almost immediately saw the Flag on his suit, and started yelling. Kompany focused on his powers, and a spike of fabricated crystals impaled the Russian's chest, and he looked at Kompany, uttering one word before collapsing. "Nyet...". Still, the rest of the soldiers had heard him, and the other 4 soldiers rounded the corner, filling the street with rifle fire, forcing Kompany to stomp the ground, forming a wall of pavement and dirt up in front of him, making a barricade. After using his power twice in a short time, he was tired, and decided to rest for a bit. After 10 seconds, the firing stopped, and using his Earth Sense, noted that the Russians were trying to flank him, going around the barricade. Forming his ever trusty Crystal and earth sword, he leapt over the barricade, slicing at the two closest Russian Soldiers, killing them both. Before the other two could react, he took his shield from his back and flung it at them, knocking them flat. Before they could get up, Kompany shot them both in the right leg and took their guns. "You're coming with me, Russians. And you're going to tell me and my country everything you know". Calling in to base, he asked for a helicopter to pick him and two "guests" up. Within half an hour, a VTOL Craft with the words "Israeli Defense Force" displayed on the side flew down, picked up Kompany and his guests, and flew off towards Jerusalem.

[Videssos]

Hisoka Yamaguchi,
St Petersburg, Russia


Hisoka moved through an alleyway, his steps quiet, and perhaps a tad eager. The rainfall mixed with the sound of blood dripping down the nearby wall, whilst his relatively simple black dress seemed unusually immaculate, an umbrella held in his left hand ensuring he was dry. Perhaps the blood was his own, or that of others. It mattered little. Behind him, lay the slumped corpses of nine men in their late teens and early twenties. Four more bodies were pinned to the wall by large metal shards of a nearby lamppost. They'd obviously been from one of the local gangs, having tattoos and a rather poor dress sense, as well as a number of knives, bats and guns in their possession. As Hisoka had gone by, earlier, they'd decided to accost him. Numbers or not, they had not stood a chance. As soon as they began moving towards them, he's guessed what they wanted. They had rather unsubtly surrounded him, blocking an escape, before two of them had tried to put their hands on him. As if conjured from thin air, a long, ornate katana had appeared.

A moment later, and the man's arm had been sliced through in several places, then his legs, and his throat. The fool had still been left alive, of course. That one had crumpled to the ground, even as he choked on his own vital fluid. The others were all surprised. Most of them had tried to fight back, though. The next one to die was the second of two nearest to him. That one had been behind him, and had tried to shoot him. A pistol barked, only to have missed, the weapon itself flying through the air, hand still attached. Another man had pulled out an uzi. The relative range, combined with its rate of fire, whilst Hisoka had clearly been taking his time, meant that a number of the bullets would have hit the average person. Instead, a shadowy mist had arisen before him, the eerie creation causing the bullets to disintegrate or fall to the ground before they reached him. The closest man had been decapitated, even as the gunman had perished. Of course, it was his speed, and the sharpness of his blade that had allowed such actions; he was hardly what one would call strong, unless he deliberately took upon a different form. One by one, they had died, some more quickly than others, and in varying degrees of gruesomeness. Juuchi Yosamu, the sword he utilised was as always, rather dependable. So too, were his powers over shadow. Afterwards, he fed, leaving them barely recognizable, and simultaneously increasing his power.

Hisoka turned at an intersection, moving between two buildings, and down another alley. At the end, a wall lay obstacle. He took a few light steps, before jumping up and essentially scaling the wall. Climbing lithely to the top, he navigated his way to a nearby rooftop. His gaze scanned the surrounding area, noting that dark clouds conveniently obscured the sun from view, and then he spotted them. An official with a briefcase, accompanied by nine guards in suits, had left a car in the nearby car-park, adjoining a tall corporate building. Hisoka smirked, veering towards the edge of the rooftop, and then vaulting down to a balcony. Landing smoothly, he jumped down, and progressed towards the carpark. Discarding the umbrella, he began walking almost casually, towards the official, a balding, busy looking fellow, and the three bodyguards flanking, who looked like little more than well-dressed thugs with discretion, and government pay. Nonetheless, as Hisoka moved, it was clear that there was an odd, feral maliciousness. The androgynous killer advanced, murmuring in anticipation, "I wonder, I wonder, how shall they scream? I know they all bleed the same... Will they try to flee? Perhaps not... I wonder how much attention this shall attract? Oh..."

He grinned, suddenly racing towards these unfortunate targets. One of the bodyguards shouted, "Get back!" as he took out a standard issue pistol. The other two began attempting to ferry the unnerved official away.
"Why would I do that?!? Not entertaining..." Hisoka replied, even as he seemed to blur through the air. He swiped the shadow scythe in his left hand across the gun-toting bodyguard's right wrist, whilst the katana plunged into his chest. A spray of blood scattered through the air in this instant. He spun round, and darted towards the next bodyguard. Moving like a murderous whirlwind of ambiguous gender, he began slicing up the remaining body guards. He became perhaps a little too enthusiastic, and the terrified official was included.

Bodies tumbled, severed body parts accompanying a cascade of blood, a maelstrom of deftly orchestrated death, shadow scythe and katana, both of unnatural origin, tearing through conventional body armour, and clothes, as easily as they did flesh and bone. Hisoka reappeared amidst the morass of body parts, himself covered in blood, his clothing soaked sanguine, his skin glistening in liquid ruby. Oh. It's over already? I suppose I got carried away, he thought. Nonetheless, he smiled, unmindful of his appearance at this point.

Then Hisoka veered towards the government building. The doors slammed open in a blast of umbrakinetic power. Two dead guards and a receptionist later, and he was approaching a conference room at the top of the stairs. Repeating the earlier show of power, the door was made to open. The assembled politicians and officials, mid-discussion, were rudely interrupted by a most unusual guest. Evidently, they seemed surprised to see a blood-covered Japanese girl (who was a trap) with glowing red eyes, an ominous seeming katana in one hand, and a shadowy scythe in the other.

Hisoka banished the scythe from his left hand, and raised it, his smile widening. it seemed to melt and twist, fluctuating dusk-hued energy, rapidly transmuting his arm. A pitch black, serpentine, smooth-textured, eyeless head emerged, an array of pale fangs that seemed to glow, contained within its maw. Perpetually shrouded in a nimbus of that dark energy, it arced forward, tearing through the nearest man's back like it was paper. Carrying on right through him, the body was pierced completely, even as it rose along with the shadow-serpent appendage. Blood sprayed in all directions during this process, and from within the corpse more heads emerged, as if it were a demonic hydra that grew on blood and death.

The others were predictably unsettled by this, and either tried to fight back, or flee. They succeeded in neither. The fanged maws of the unholy abomination that was an extension of Hisoka's true nature, shattered their unfortunate lives like glass, and tore through their clothes to devour the flesh and blood that dwelt within. Unsurprisingly, whilst the slaughter was over quickly, the many-headed monstrosity resultantly returning to its previous form as his arm, it was still a messy affair. Remnants of the bodies, and of their bones, littered the scene. It seemed it was time to move on...

[Syrixces]

Viktor Rusbaston - Stormcloud | Flying from LA to St. Petursburg

---

Viktor sat in his private jet with a glass of vodka and a journal in his hands. He was heading back to Russia after a 2 month mission in the US. His mission was to find out who caused the disaster that destroyed his hometown and the Russian capital, Moscow. He has discovered that the cause was someone known as the Prophet. No one knows anything else about him except that. However the Americans have started a program, known as Silverfish to find out the identity, and hunt down the man.
He had sat writing down his observations in the journal for a short while when he landed in Chicago to refuel. It must have looked weird, seeing a Russian in a white tuxedo, and sunglasses in the terminal. He had many ugly comments shouted at him but he kept to himself. All he wanted was to get the jet refueled so he could take off again. They mostly stayed away but one walked into his face. He made a horrible mistake and he pushed Viktor. Viktor looked back at him with eyes that could freeze over hell. And grabbed the mans arm. Twisting it around and shoving it into his back. Almost snapping his arm. The assailant cried out in pain. When another man approached him Viktor whipped out a pistol made of plastic, and pointed it at the new man. When the new man cowered at the gun Viktor dropped the original man and ran. He wasn't running at one hundred miles per hour but he was running faster than any ordinary man could. He got to the plane just as it finished refueling. The pilot was wondering why he was here so quickly. Viktor didn't explain and just told him to get the plane in the air. The guards ran out the door just as the plane took off from Chicago. They would have to skip Boston, although it would be a stretch they would make it to London. As it would be to much of a risk to land in America again. The military wouldn't divert the Airforce as they had bigger problems to deal with, but the Boston police would be alerted.

WIP Bishops will come soon.

A flight attendant comes by, dress up in a bulky suit. "Sir, would you like something to drink?", he asks in Russian.

[Syrixces]

Calvin's looked down upon the green fresh cut faux-grass beneath his feet. Sandals and shorts showed off his pasty tanned white skin. His Hawaiian themed shirt made him appear more touristy then he normally would look. Looking through his sunglasses he gazed down upon his shaft. His rod fell adjacent between his feet, spaced 12 inches apart. The hole rested a few feet away, past the windmill and is spinning fans of doom. He clenched the handle of his club and tapped the green mini-golf ball down the green. Relieved at the sudden relief of stress, his sinuses filled with the succulent stench of the sea. In one gulp his lungs expanded like a blimp. In another moment his lungs air escaped like someone had just opened a balloon and let go. He stepped around the windmill. Much to his imagination he saw a green ball in the 18th hole. A perfect game.

"Very impressive sir" announced a Crewmember.

"What?" Neil calvin responded. He couldn't really not lose a game so he wasn't sure what the crew member meant.

"And as the 1st person to do so on this vessel you have won a free meal in the first class lounge"

Neil smiled. Despite having assets valued somewhere between 800 million and a billion dollars, he always found that nothing was quite like a free anything. But a free meal most of all.
"Thank you sir" Neil said as the crew member have him a voucher before the Crewmember moved on to prevent a child from walking their sibling with the club.

"Sir? Can interest you in a complimentary cigar?, asks a crew member.

[Syrixces]

Ruins of Tel Aviv, State of Israel:
The man in the yellow hazmat suit walked through the ruins of a dead city. An assault rifle in his hand and a yellow, black, and red shield on his back, he walked closer and closer to Ground Zero. Suddenly, the radio in his helmet crackled to life. "This is Antwerp Actual to Captain Belgium, are you there, Cap?". Captain Belgium winced at the sudden noise, but responded. "Roger that, Antwerp Actual, what's wrong?". The other man sounded nervous. "We have multiple humans converging on your position, satellite images show them to be Russian". Kompany cursed under his breath. The Russians where probably here for the same reason he was, to find clues to the Prophet's location. Still, Belgium and Russia were in a state of war, and Russians wouldn't hesitate to shoot once they saw the Belgian flag on his shoulder. Lifting the Rifle, he advanced forwards. He didn't like to use the rifle, preferring to use his limited powers over Earth, but they were just that. Limited. So he had to rely on his trusty shield and his rifle. He figured her have some fun with the Russians, though. Turning the corner, he saw the first Russian soldier, who almost immediately saw the Flag on his suit, and started yelling. Kompany focused on his powers, and a spike of fabricated crystals impaled the Russian's chest, and he looked at Kompany, uttering one word before collapsing. "Nyet...". Still, the rest of the soldiers had heard him, and the other 4 soldiers rounded the corner, filling the street with rifle fire, forcing Kompany to stomp the ground, forming a wall of pavement and dirt up in front of him, making a barricade. After using his power twice in a short time, he was tired, and decided to rest for a bit. After 10 seconds, the firing stopped, and using his Earth Sense, noted that the Russians were trying to flank him, going around the barricade. Forming his ever trusty Crystal and earth sword, he leapt over the barricade, slicing at the two closest Russian Soldiers, killing them both. Before the other two could react, he took his shield from his back and flung it at them, knocking them flat. Before they could get up, Kompany shot them both in the right leg and took their guns. "You're coming with me, Russians. And you're going to tell me and my country everything you know". Calling in to base, he asked for a helicopter to pick him and two "guests" up. Within half an hour, a VTOL Craft with the words "Israeli Defense Force" displayed on the side flew down, picked up Kompany and his guests, and flew off towards Jerusalem.

The co - pilot smiled, and said, "Sir, Mr. Belgium, can you sign this for me? My kids a big fan!"

[Syrixces]

Hisoka Yamaguchi,
St Petersburg, Russia


Hisoka moved through an alleyway, his steps quiet, and perhaps a tad eager. The rainfall mixed with the sound of blood dripping down the nearby wall, whilst his relatively simple black dress seemed unusually immaculate, an umbrella held in his left hand ensuring he was dry. Perhaps the blood was his own, or that of others. It mattered little. Behind him, lay the slumped corpses of nine men in their late teens and early twenties. Four more bodies were pinned to the wall by large metal shards of a nearby lamppost. They'd obviously been from one of the local gangs, having tattoos and a rather poor dress sense, as well as a number of knives, bats and guns in their possession. As Hisoka had gone by, earlier, they'd decided to accost him. Numbers or not, they had not stood a chance. As soon as they began moving towards them, he's guessed what they wanted. They had rather unsubtly surrounded him, blocking an escape, before two of them had tried to put their hands on him. As if conjured from thin air, a long, ornate katana had appeared.

A moment later, and the man's arm had been sliced through in several places, then his legs, and his throat. The fool had still been left alive, of course. That one had crumpled to the ground, even as he choked on his own vital fluid. The others were all surprised. Most of them had tried to fight back, though. The next one to die was the second of two nearest to him. That one had been behind him, and had tried to shoot him. A pistol barked, only to have missed, the weapon itself flying through the air, hand still attached. Another man had pulled out an uzi. The relative range, combined with its rate of fire, whilst Hisoka had clearly been taking his time, meant that a number of the bullets would have hit the average person. Instead, a shadowy mist had arisen before him, the eerie creation causing the bullets to disintegrate or fall to the ground before they reached him. The closest man had been decapitated, even as the gunman had perished. Of course, it was his speed, and the sharpness of his blade that had allowed such actions; he was hardly what one would call strong, unless he deliberately took upon a different form. One by one, they had died, some more quickly than others, and in varying degrees of gruesomeness. Juuchi Yosamu, the sword he utilised was as always, rather dependable. So too, were his powers over shadow. Afterwards, he fed, leaving them barely recognizable, and simultaneously increasing his power.

Hisoka turned at an intersection, moving between two buildings, and down another alley. At the end, a wall lay obstacle. He took a few light steps, before jumping up and essentially scaling the wall. Climbing lithely to the top, he navigated his way to a nearby rooftop. His gaze scanned the surrounding area, noting that dark clouds conveniently obscured the sun from view, and then he spotted them. An official with a briefcase, accompanied by nine guards in suits, had left a car in the nearby car-park, adjoining a tall corporate building. Hisoka smirked, veering towards the edge of the rooftop, and then vaulting down to a balcony. Landing smoothly, he jumped down, and progressed towards the carpark. Discarding the umbrella, he began walking almost casually, towards the official, a balding, busy looking fellow, and the three bodyguards flanking, who looked like little more than well-dressed thugs with discretion, and government pay. Nonetheless, as Hisoka moved, it was clear that there was an odd, feral maliciousness. The androgynous killer advanced, murmuring in anticipation, "I wonder, I wonder, how shall they scream? I know they all bleed the same... Will they try to flee? Perhaps not... I wonder how much attention this shall attract? Oh..."

He grinned, suddenly racing towards these unfortunate targets. One of the bodyguards shouted, "Get back!" as he took out a standard issue pistol. The other two began attempting to ferry the unnerved official away.
"Why would I do that?!? Not entertaining..." Hisoka replied, even as he seemed to blur through the air. He swiped the shadow scythe in his left hand across the gun-toting bodyguard's right wrist, whilst the katana plunged into his chest. A spray of blood scattered through the air in this instant. He spun round, and darted towards the next bodyguard. Moving like a murderous whirlwind of ambiguous gender, he began slicing up the remaining body guards. He became perhaps a little too enthusiastic, and the terrified official was included.

Bodies tumbled, severed body parts accompanying a cascade of blood, a maelstrom of deftly orchestrated death, shadow scythe and katana, both of unnatural origin, tearing through conventional body armour, and clothes, as easily as they did flesh and bone. Hisoka reappeared amidst the morass of body parts, himself covered in blood, his clothing soaked sanguine, his skin glistening in liquid ruby. Oh. It's over already? I suppose I got carried away, he thought. Nonetheless, he smiled, unmindful of his appearance at this point.

Then Hisoka veered towards the government building. The doors slammed open in a blast of umbrakinetic power. Two dead guards and a receptionist later, and he was approaching a conference room at the top of the stairs. Repeating the earlier show of power, the door was made to open. The assembled politicians and officials, mid-discussion, were rudely interrupted by a most unusual guest. Evidently, they seemed surprised to see a blood-covered Japanese girl (who was a trap) with glowing red eyes, an ominous seeming katana in one hand, and a shadowy scythe in the other.

Hisoka banished the scythe from his left hand, and raised it, his smile widening. it seemed to melt and twist, fluctuating dusk-hued energy, rapidly transmuting his arm. A pitch black, serpentine, smooth-textured, eyeless head emerged, an array of pale fangs that seemed to glow, contained within its maw. Perpetually shrouded in a nimbus of that dark energy, it arced forward, tearing through the nearest man's back like it was paper. Carrying on right through him, the body was pierced completely, even as it rose along with the shadow-serpent appendage. Blood sprayed in all directions during this process, and from within the corpse more heads emerged, as if it were a demonic hydra that grew on blood and death.

The others were predictably unsettled by this, and either tried to fight back, or flee. They succeeded in neither. The fanged maws of the unholy abomination that was an extension of Hisoka's true nature, shattered their unfortunate lives like glass, and tore through their clothes to devour the flesh and blood that dwelt within. Unsurprisingly, whilst the slaughter was over quickly, the many-headed monstrosity resultantly returning to its previous form as his arm, it was still a messy affair. Remnants of the bodies, and of their bones, littered the scene. It seemed it was time to move on...

"Go go go!"

Women in black body armor and visored helmets rush onto the scene, through a side room. "Hands in the air, now!"

They readied flame throwers, aimed at the abomination.

Oddly enough, all the members of the team were women.

[Bycrest]

Lucius

The sound of explosions, the smell of fear from the innocent, the emotions caused by making the "hard decision". Lucius sensed all of these things and woke from his slumber only to find darkness.

Just great, they must have buried me again after the last war ended. he thought to himself. He punched up and broke out of the coffin only to find that he was in one of those walk in tomb made of stone. He looked around and saw his armor and sword behind him.

"Of course Michel took my guns, he had his eyes on those thing since 1943." Lucius said to himself. He put on his armor and grabbed his sword then made his way to the stone door. He pushed the door open and stepped out side into the dark night and looked around. He saw a man standing near a tombstone and walk behind him.

"Excuse my good sir, but can you tell me what year it is." Lucius asked.
"Well it's 2018, everyone should know that. Where have you been, sleeping under a rock." the man replied as he turned around and got a look at Lucius' still regenerating face.
"Actually yes, or more correctly on one. Thank you though." Lucius said as he started walking away.

As Lucius walk away the man freaked out and fainted, falling into an open grave and the getting buried with a corpse (don't question it).

"Well if I'm alive again that means Catherine's curse hasn't worn of and that there is another war in progress. How about I fight for the guys trying to extend the war this time." Lucius said to himself. "But where do I find the guy in charge?"

---

Warren
Warren was studying the ruins of Athens in a hopes to get a sense of what they had been through. History books only tell so much of what happened and he was hoping that ruins could tell him more. So secrets had to have been kept to their own time but he had no luck finding it.

"If only I had some clue of what the wars these people went through, then maybe I would be able to solve it." Warren said to himself. "Ah well, maybe I should be focused on the present instead of the past. The current war might endanger these ruins and then their secrets would be lost forever. But here's a better idea, why don't I make my own secrets in history."

Warren used his gravity powers to levitate out of the ruins and looked around Athens. "That's a fun idea, now all I have to do is become a prominent figure in history, and the easiest way to do that is to be in this war."

[Syrixces]

Lucius

The sound of explosions, the smell of fear from the innocent, the emotions caused by making the "hard decision". Lucius sensed all of these things and woke from his slumber only to find darkness.

Just great, they must have buried me again after the last war ended. he thought to himself. He punched up and broke out of the coffin only to find that he was in one of those walk in tomb made of stone. He looked around and saw his armor and sword behind him.

"Of course Michel took my guns, he had his eyes on those thing since 1943." Lucius said to himself. He put on his armor and grabbed his sword then made his way to the stone door. He pushed the door open and stepped out side into the dark night and looked around. He saw a man standing near a tombstone and walk behind him.

"Excuse my good sir, but can you tell me what year it is." Lucius asked.
"Well it's 2018, everyone should know that. Where have you been, sleeping under a rock." the man replied as he turned around and got a look at Lucius' still regenerating face.
"Actually yes, or more correctly on one. Thank you though." Lucius said as he started walking away.

As Lucius walk away the man freaked out and fainted, falling into an open grave and the getting buried with a corpse (don't question it).

"Well if I'm alive again that means Catherine's curse hasn't worn of and that there is another war in progress. How about I fight for the guys trying to extend the war this time." Lucius said to himself. "But where do I find the guy in charge?"

---

Warren
WIP- I have to think of where he could be.

"Why that would be us!" Said a man, stepping out from a tomb, loading a shotgun into his face. "Knight is down, bag him, and get him on his way. "

[Bycrest]

Lucius

The sound of explosions, the smell of fear from the innocent, the emotions caused by making the "hard decision". Lucius sensed all of these things and woke from his slumber only to find darkness.

Just great, they must have buried me again after the last war ended. he thought to himself. He punched up and broke out of the coffin only to find that he was in one of those walk in tomb made of stone. He looked around and saw his armor and sword behind him.

"Of course Michel took my guns, he had his eyes on those thing since 1943." Lucius said to himself. He put on his armor and grabbed his sword then made his way to the stone door. He pushed the door open and stepped out side into the dark night and looked around. He saw a man standing near a tombstone and walk behind him.

"Excuse my good sir, but can you tell me what year it is." Lucius asked.
"Well it's 2018, everyone should know that. Where have you been, sleeping under a rock." the man replied as he turned around and got a look at Lucius' still regenerating face.
"Actually yes, or more correctly on one. Thank you though." Lucius said as he started walking away.

As Lucius walk away the man freaked out and fainted, falling into an open grave and the getting buried with a corpse (don't question it).

"Well if I'm alive again that means Catherine's curse hasn't worn of and that there is another war in progress. How about I fight for the guys trying to extend the war this time." Lucius said to himself. "But where do I find the guy in charge?"

---

Warren
WIP- I have to think of where he could be.

"Why that would be us!" Said a man, stepping out from a tomb, loading a shotgun into his face. "Knight is down, bag him, and get him on his way. "

For a short moment Lucius laid on the ground dead, but then life returned to him. He jumped up and sliced the shotgun in half. "Tell me who you are knave or I shall slice you to ribbons!" Lucius commanded.

[Syrixces]

"Why that would be us!" Said a man, stepping out from a tomb, loading a shotgun into his face. "Knight is down, bag him, and get him on his way. "

For a short moment Lucius laid on the ground dead, but then life returned to him. He jumped up and sliced the shotgun in half. "Tell me who you are knave or I shall slice you to ribbons!" Lucius commanded.

A man, covered in shadow, stepped out from cover. "Why, I'm the most powerful man on Earth. And put that away, before I rip you apart. My name is the Prophet, and I'm very interested in your capabilities as an asset."

[Bycrest]

For a short moment Lucius laid on the ground dead, but then life returned to him. He jumped up and sliced the shotgun in half. "Tell me who you are knave or I shall slice you to ribbons!" Lucius commanded.

A man, covered in shadow, stepped out from cover. "Why, I'm the most powerful man on Earth. And put that away, before I rip you apart. My name is the Prophet, and I'm very interested in your capabilities as an asset."

Lucius puts away his sword and turns towards the man. "Well next time you can try asking. How do you think it feels to be sleeping for maybe 50 plus years only to have your head blown off by a shotgun. I must say those things have really advanced since I was gone."

[Videssos]

Before he could leave, it seemed trouble had followed him. As soon as the assailants abruptly entered the room, he instinctively jumped back along the nearby wall, tendrils of shadow veering out, latching onto the nearby ground and granting greater speed to this movement. Of course, this turned out to be backing himself into a corner which whilst ensuring he was in a dark part of the room, also made his escape more difficult.

Rapidly seeking to assess the situation, Hisoka's gaze scanned over the team sent against him. They all had flamethrowers, which had always proven troublesome, both in the damage they did, and the fire's illumination of the shadows he commanded, which weakened and destroyed them. These foes were also all women. It seemed someone had done a bit of research.

Where before his countenance was casual yet eager, that expression had vanished to reveal a coldness increasingly tinged with fear. Hisoka threw a pair of knives with his left hand, procured from a hidden part of his dress. They hit the lights of the room, obscuring it in darkness, whilst the glow in his own eyes dimmed. He ran to the left, his speed increasing as he flickered from shadow to shadow, hoping he would get close enough to the nearest exit before the flames came...

[Syrixces]

A man, covered in shadow, stepped out from cover. "Why, I'm the most powerful man on Earth. And put that away, before I rip you apart. My name is the Prophet, and I'm very interested in your capabilities as an asset."

Lucius puts away his sword and turns towards the man. "Well next time you can try asking. How do you think it feels to be sleeping for maybe 50 plus years only to have your head blown off by a shotgun. I must say those things have really advanced since I was gone."

"Yes, well, it can only be expected. Now, I afraid I need you unconscious for this next bit, so umm, your pick. 1. I sedate you, or 2. I cut you up, and continuously cut you up, until we get to where we need to go. "

[Syrixces]

Before he could leave, it seemed trouble had followed him. As soon as the assailants abruptly entered the room, he instinctively jumped back along the nearby wall, tendrils of shadow veering out, latching onto the nearby ground and granting greater speed to this movement. Of course, this turned out to be backing himself into a corner which whilst ensuring he was in a dark part of the room, also made his escape more difficult.

Rapidly seeking to assess the situation, Hisoka's gaze scanned over the team sent against him. They all had flamethrowers, which had always proven troublesome, both in the damage they did, and the fire's illumination of the shadows he commanded, which weakened and destroyed them. These foes were also all women. It seemed someone had done a bit of research.

Where before his countenance was casual yet eager, that expression had vanished to reveal a coldness increasingly tinged with fear. Hisoka threw a pair of knives with his left hand, procured from a hidden part of his dress. They hit the lights of the room, obscuring it in darkness, whilst the glow in his own eyes dimmed. He ran to the left, his speed increasing as he flickered from shadow to shadow, hoping he would get close enough to the nearest exit before the flames came...

"Night vision on!"

"He's making a run! Stand down, or we will fry you! We have all exits blocked!"

A voice came from the exit, "Make a move, and you burn!"

[Bycrest]

Lucius puts away his sword and turns towards the man. "Well next time you can try asking. How do you think it feels to be sleeping for maybe 50 plus years only to have your head blown off by a shotgun. I must say those things have really advanced since I was gone."

"Yes, well, it can only be expected. Now, I afraid I need you unconscious for this next bit, so umm, your pick. 1. I sedate you, or 2. I cut you up, and continuously cut you up, until we get to where we need to go. "

"If you must have me uncurious..." Lucius takes out his sword and swings it at his own neck, slicing his head off. "Ow..." Lucius utters as he fades into death once again.

[Syrixces]

"Yes, well, it can only be expected. Now, I afraid I need you unconscious for this next bit, so umm, your pick. 1. I sedate you, or 2. I cut you up, and continuously cut you up, until we get to where we need to go. "

"If you must have me uncurious..." Lucius takes out his sword and swings it at his own neck, slicing his head off. "Ow..." Lucius utters as he fades into death once again.

"Good, bag him, and purge those memories, Pain. We can't let him remember this. Meet me back at the sub."

[Syrixces]

Viktor Rusbaston - Stormcloud | Flying from LA to St. Petursburg

---

Viktor sat in his private jet with a glass of vodka and a journal in his hands. He was heading back to Russia after a 2 month mission in the US. His mission was to find out who caused the disaster that destroyed his hometown and the Russian capital, Moscow. He has discovered that the cause was someone known as the Prophet. No one knows anything else about him except that. However the Americans have started a program, known as Silverfish to find out the identity, and hunt down the man.
He had sat writing down his observations in the journal for a short while when he landed in Chicago to refuel. It must have looked weird, seeing a Russian in a white tuxedo, and sunglasses in the terminal. He had many ugly comments shouted at him but he kept to himself. All he wanted was to get the jet refueled so he could take off again. They mostly stayed away but one walked into his face. He made a horrible mistake and he pushed Viktor. Viktor looked back at him with eyes that could freeze over hell. And grabbed the mans arm. Twisting it around and shoving it into his back. Almost snapping his arm. The assailant cried out in pain. When another man approached him Viktor whipped out a pistol made of plastic, and pointed it at the new man. When the new man cowered at the gun Viktor dropped the original man and ran. He wasn't running at one hundred miles per hour but he was running faster than any ordinary man could. He got to the plane just as it finished refueling. The pilot was wondering why he was here so quickly. Viktor didn't explain and just told him to get the plane in the air. The guards ran out the door just as the plane took off from Chicago. They would have to skip Boston, although it would be a stretch they would make it to London. As it would be to much of a risk to land in America again. The military wouldn't divert the Airforce as they had bigger problems to deal with, but the Boston police would be alerted.

---

Muhammad Akuma - Bishop | Outskirts of Dubai, United Arab Emirates

---

Bishop was driving through Dubai in his car, Luna, which was a Completly Black Ferrari Berlinetta F12 with Black Tinted windows, and illeagal engine mods. He was driving with his lights off, when he pulled into a street race. A burly man walked up to his vehicle, and he lowered down the window just enough to say he wanted a race for pink slips.
The man pointed to a Blue Lamborgini Hurican, "He is racing for pink slips, the man thinks he's unstoppable." He said in Arabic before handing him a map, "And here's a map of the route."
When the Bishop pulled up next to the Blue Lamborgini, the man rolled down his window to show, an American in a cowboy hat. He must be an American oil cowboy. He would very much enjoy beating this man.
"Roll down your window so I can see y'all." The cowboy said,
The Bishop stayed quiet, and an Arabic girl in a bikini top, and short shorts walked between the two of them. She rose a cloth, "Ready?" Looking at the American,
"Ah ya!"
"Steady?" Looking at Bishop, but only got silence.
"Go!"
Both the cars leap of the starting line, with Bishop's Ferrari getting the lead. But when they hit the corner the Lamborgini got ahead. The cowboy couldn't keep up with his giant F12 in the straight always, but would pass him in the corners, after large amounts of turns and rushing down city streets, they hit a road going int the desert with the Hurican in a 100 foot lead. The Bishop stomped on the gas, and the purring of the engine turned into a roar as it accelerated very quickly, A gear shift every few seconds and the gap closed quickly, the finish line approached very quickly, and at the last second the Bishop threw everything he could at it. And within the last 10 feet of the race passed the Huican. He whipped the steering wheel, sliding into an empty spot behind the cheering crowd.
The American walked up to his car, with a very angry face. Bishop lowered the window all the way this time letting the Cowboy see his strange all black attire. "I assume you're here to give me that pink slip?" The Bishop said with a very deep voice due to his voice changer.
The American answered not with words but by whipping out a giant .500 Magnum revolver.
"Okay, Okay just let me get my pink slip, and he checked in his center console. He grabbed his handgun, and teleported behind the man. Putting the handgun to his head. "I'd suggest dropping the gun, and handing me your pink slip." He said very calmly. Walking with a gun to the mans head, as he walked back to his car. The Cowboy took his pink slip and keys and handed them to the Bishop.
"I thank you very much, I'll now lower the gun. I advise against doing something stupid." He told the American grabbing the items.
One of his henchmen walked up from the crowd silent, he got thrown the keys and the slip. The Bishop got in Luna, and his henchmen the Lamborgini. He had just added an interesting car to his collection.

One of his henchmen walks up to him, "Sir, there's a message for you on your phone."

[The Greater Dutch Republic]

Ruins of Tel Aviv, State of Israel:
The man in the yellow hazmat suit walked through the ruins of a dead city. An assault rifle in his hand and a yellow, black, and red shield on his back, he walked closer and closer to Ground Zero. Suddenly, the radio in his helmet crackled to life. "This is Antwerp Actual to Captain Belgium, are you there, Cap?". Captain Belgium winced at the sudden noise, but responded. "Roger that, Antwerp Actual, what's wrong?". The other man sounded nervous. "We have multiple humans converging on your position, satellite images show them to be Russian". Kompany cursed under his breath. The Russians where probably here for the same reason he was, to find clues to the Prophet's location. Still, Belgium and Russia were in a state of war, and Russians wouldn't hesitate to shoot once they saw the Belgian flag on his shoulder. Lifting the Rifle, he advanced forwards. He didn't like to use the rifle, preferring to use his limited powers over Earth, but they were just that. Limited. So he had to rely on his trusty shield and his rifle. He figured her have some fun with the Russians, though. Turning the corner, he saw the first Russian soldier, who almost immediately saw the Flag on his suit, and started yelling. Kompany focused on his powers, and a spike of fabricated crystals impaled the Russian's chest, and he looked at Kompany, uttering one word before collapsing. "Nyet...". Still, the rest of the soldiers had heard him, and the other 4 soldiers rounded the corner, filling the street with rifle fire, forcing Kompany to stomp the ground, forming a wall of pavement and dirt up in front of him, making a barricade. After using his power twice in a short time, he was tired, and decided to rest for a bit. After 10 seconds, the firing stopped, and using his Earth Sense, noted that the Russians were trying to flank him, going around the barricade. Forming his ever trusty Crystal and earth sword, he leapt over the barricade, slicing at the two closest Russian Soldiers, killing them both. Before the other two could react, he took his shield from his back and flung it at them, knocking them flat. Before they could get up, Kompany shot them both in the right leg and took their guns. "You're coming with me, Russians. And you're going to tell me and my country everything you know". Calling in to base, he asked for a helicopter to pick him and two "guests" up. Within half an hour, a VTOL Craft with the words "Israeli Defense Force" displayed on the side flew down, picked up Kompany and his guests, and flew off towards Jerusalem.

The co - pilot smiled, and said, "Sir, Mr. Belgium, can you sign this for me? My kids a big fan!"

The Captain turned and smiled at the man, signing the card. "What's your kids name?", he asked, pausing for a moment, before looking out the window at the City of Jerusalem appearing in the front window. Well, City was perhaps the wrong term. Fortress was a more accurate description of the sprawling metropolis surrounded by a massive 100 foot tall wall and machine guns and rocket launchers lining the top, bottom, and middle of the wall, with even more inside the cit itself. He city was built to withstand any attack, from nuclear to full on assault, and it seemed that nothing short of God himself could bring down the city. Turning his attention back to card, he realized that this war would not end quickly. It would be bloodier and longer than the last World War, and any other war before it.

[Syrixces]

The co - pilot smiled, and said, "Sir, Mr. Belgium, can you sign this for me? My kids a big fan!"

The Captain turned and smiled at the man, signing the card. "What's your kids name?", he asked, pausing for a moment, before looking out the window at the City of Jerusalem appearing in the front window. Well, City was perhaps the wrong term. Fortress was a more accurate description of the sprawling metropolis surrounded by a massive 100 foot tall wall and machine guns and rocket launchers lining the top, bottom, and middle of the wall, with even more inside the cit itself. He city was built to withstand any attack, from nuclear to full on assault, and it seemed that nothing short of God himself could bring down the city. Turning his attention back to card, he realized that this war would not end quickly. It would be bloodier and longer than the last World War, and any other war before it.

"Mr. Sandman. ", he answered, a whipped out a sedative, plunging it into Captain's neck, putting him under. "We got 'em. Take us to the "Crossing.""

[Syrixces]

Lucius

The sound of explosions, the smell of fear from the innocent, the emotions caused by making the "hard decision". Lucius sensed all of these things and woke from his slumber only to find darkness.

Just great, they must have buried me again after the last war ended. he thought to himself. He punched up and broke out of the coffin only to find that he was in one of those walk in tomb made of stone. He looked around and saw his armor and sword behind him.

"Of course Michel took my guns, he had his eyes on those thing since 1943." Lucius said to himself. He put on his armor and grabbed his sword then made his way to the stone door. He pushed the door open and stepped out side into the dark night and looked around. He saw a man standing near a tombstone and walk behind him.

"Excuse my good sir, but can you tell me what year it is." Lucius asked.
"Well it's 2018, everyone should know that. Where have you been, sleeping under a rock." the man replied as he turned around and got a look at Lucius' still regenerating face.
"Actually yes, or more correctly on one. Thank you though." Lucius said as he started walking away.

As Lucius walk away the man freaked out and fainted, falling into an open grave and the getting buried with a corpse (don't question it).

"Well if I'm alive again that means Catherine's curse hasn't worn of and that there is another war in progress. How about I fight for the guys trying to extend the war this time." Lucius said to himself. "But where do I find the guy in charge?"

---

Warren
Warren was studying the ruins of Athens in a hopes to get a sense of what they had been through. History books only tell so much of what happened and he was hoping that ruins could tell him more. So secrets had to have been kept to their own time but he had no luck finding it.

"If only I had some clue of what the wars these people went through, then maybe I would be able to solve it." Warren said to himself. "Ah well, maybe I should be focused on the present instead of the past. The current war might endanger these ruins and then their secrets would be lost forever. But here's a better idea, why don't I make my own secrets in history."

Warren used his gravity powers to levitate out of the ruins and looked around Athens. "That's a fun idea, now all I have to do is become a prominent figure in history, and the easiest way to do that is to be in this war."

Down on the ground, a thin, thrumm could be heard. A large magnetic drive had just been activated, right below him.

[Bycrest]

Lucius

The sound of explosions, the smell of fear from the innocent, the emotions caused by making the "hard decision". Lucius sensed all of these things and woke from his slumber only to find darkness.

Just great, they must have buried me again after the last war ended. he thought to himself. He punched up and broke out of the coffin only to find that he was in one of those walk in tomb made of stone. He looked around and saw his armor and sword behind him.

"Of course Michel took my guns, he had his eyes on those thing since 1943." Lucius said to himself. He put on his armor and grabbed his sword then made his way to the stone door. He pushed the door open and stepped out side into the dark night and looked around. He saw a man standing near a tombstone and walk behind him.

"Excuse my good sir, but can you tell me what year it is." Lucius asked.
"Well it's 2018, everyone should know that. Where have you been, sleeping under a rock." the man replied as he turned around and got a look at Lucius' still regenerating face.
"Actually yes, or more correctly on one. Thank you though." Lucius said as he started walking away.

As Lucius walk away the man freaked out and fainted, falling into an open grave and the getting buried with a corpse (don't question it).

"Well if I'm alive again that means Catherine's curse hasn't worn of and that there is another war in progress. How about I fight for the guys trying to extend the war this time." Lucius said to himself. "But where do I find the guy in charge?"

---

Warren
Warren was studying the ruins of Athens in a hopes to get a sense of what they had been through. History books only tell so much of what happened and he was hoping that ruins could tell him more. So secrets had to have been kept to their own time but he had no luck finding it.

"If only I had some clue of what the wars these people went through, then maybe I would be able to solve it." Warren said to himself. "Ah well, maybe I should be focused on the present instead of the past. The current war might endanger these ruins and then their secrets would be lost forever. But here's a better idea, why don't I make my own secrets in history."

Warren used his gravity powers to levitate out of the ruins and looked around Athens. "That's a fun idea, now all I have to do is become a prominent figure in history, and the easiest way to do that is to be in this war."

Down on the ground, a thin, thrumm could be heard. A large magnetic drive had just been activated, right below him.

Warren looked down and saw the magnet beneath him. "Oh crap!" He yelled as he fell to the ground.

"Ow!" he said. "Okay, who's the wise guy and how did you know my gravity powers don't work near magnets?"

[Syrixces]

Down on the ground, a thin, thrumm could be heard. A large magnetic drive had just been activated, right below him.

Warren looked down and saw the magnet beneath him. "Oh crap!" He yelled as he fell to the ground.

"Ow!" he said. "Okay, who's the wise guy and how did you know my gravity powers don't work near magnets?"

Several men in blue and red indicator covered black suits ran near him, with magnetic projectile weapons. "On the ground, hands in front, now!"