The Supernatural Chronicles: IC

[Tarnen]

Metatron,
San Francisco

Metatron stood on top of the Golden Gate Bridge. The wind was howling where he was standing, and people driving below were too busy to notice a celestial standing in one of the bridges' arches. It had been a while since the angel had visited the city. But he managed to track the Sword of Lucifer to this city. Apparently, an auction was to take place in a few days somewhere in San Fransico.

It had been a while since he last visited the city. The last time, was in 1960. He was in town to see a healer that was touched by God. Of course, this made Metatron want to investigate. But it turns out he was a swindler taking people for a ride as well as taking their money.

But, the Scribe knew that the Sword of Lucifer was in the city.

The sword was thought lost, at least according to Heaven, after Lucifer's fall and banishment from Heaven. Apparently, that was a lie, then again Heaven was worried about its optics, its PR. They rather say it was destroyed than admit that it lost one of the universe's most dangerous weapons.

Metatron's wings spread out before he took flight. For now, he would need to find a place to stay. Metatron did not require sleep but a base of operations would help with his mission.

He landed in an alleyway before walking onto the street. He stopped in front of a building. The Bay Hotel. It looks like a place that was stuck in the 40s. Bellhops, and Doormen, hold open the door to the angel.

Walking up to the corner, a woman give him a big smile, which he did not return. "I would like a room please."

"Of course sir, how many days will you be staying."

"A week, I don't require room service and I do not want to be disturbed." He reached into his pocket as he set down on the counter. It was 1000 dollars as he grabbed the door key from her and walk to the elevator. The room was on the 6th floor, it had one bed and a tv that was from the 80s. He locked his door as he sat at the foot of his bed and began thinking about his next steps.

There was an angelic weapon somewhere out there in the city. He needed to find a way into this mysterious auction, and possibly find help.

[Kenmoria]

TACITUM
Pulau Ujong, Singapore

Tacitum was sitting on a coloured, plush sofa. It was a little vibrant for his tastes; the garish yellow cut slightly too aggressively through the room’s otherwise modernist greys and whites. Everyone here was wearing monochromatic suits: himself included, and the lighting did not have a hint of colour about it, so why was there a need for this sofa’s offensive colouration? It was probably supposed to be an accent. All the newer designers seemed to love adding what they termed hints of colour to a room. He would rather call them flaws in the scheme, small bursts of conspicuousness in an otherwise modest interior.

Catlike, Tacitum effortlessly shifted his position, from sitting at one end of the room to standing at the other. He was now one member of a circle of eight or so, and none of the gentlemen would notice the odd gap that they had subconsciously left for him. Each one of the members of this private association had something interesting to say, in his experience. It was presently the rumours about the president of a Singapore that they were discussing. The rumours were true, but they were also mundane. There was nothing truly interesting about their content: a secret, yes, but a dull one.

The few probing questions that Tacitum silently asked did nothing to enlighten him on any more interesting topic of conversation. None of the group would know who was asking them, but neither would any naturally be inclined to question this fact. He sighed, before satiating himself by asking about the sofa. It was such a bizarre choice that he needed to know. Goh Zheng was the respondent, just so happening to shift the conversation, rather inelegantly, from scandal to soft furnishing. The words spilled from his lips, as if compelled - well, they were compelled - and they were eagerly received. At least that small curiosity was ended, its secret collected and added to the pile.

Gliding once more around the room, taking a glass of champagne from the bar as he did so, Tacitum came to another circle of people. No; these few were quite boring as well. Several of them were secrets that he had shared already, a few to members of this very club, whereas others were simply mendacious. Though there was value in a cloistered lie, there was far more in an obscure veracity. One was even a secret that he had discovered himself, while perusing the streets of Paris for gossip. He idly chatted to Yeo Ming, a socialite in whom he had a particular interest. Even if Ming never remembered the conversations, it was useful to have one person with whom there was some level of familiarity. Ming was particularly good at knowing people, interesting people, at any rate.

Well, that had been an unproductive two hours. Tacitum was just finishing his delve into the pregnancy of some businessman’s wife, then he planned to leave. There were plenty more haunts here for him to explore. Without ever saying a goodbye, he stepped out of the group into which he had shifted, and calmly walked a single step, covering about sixty feet as he did so, to the door. As his hand hovered over the doorknob, something caught his ear. It was a rumour. He had plenty of those already; another would hardly add more interest. His gloved hand lowered onto the steel handle. No; that rumour sounded different. There was something there, beyond mere socialising. It was true scandal, real secrecy.

Tacitum began to listen more carefully. It was an auction, somewhere in the United States of America. Why had that leapt to him as it had? Auctions were regular occurrences. He even went to some. Many of his houses bore a great number of trinkets, idiosyncratic items with stories told through the generations. They were pleasant decorations, but they were hardly some mighty power or terrible mystery. Nonetheless, in spite of his better judgement, propelled by curiosity, he approached the one telling the story: Xu Wen. After a few minutes of listening, he began to reconsider. The man knew nothing about the auction, save for its location, and that some rare item was being sold; that was too vague to be useful. Then, he heard the item’s name: the Sword of Lucifer.

A few hours later, Tacitum had taken Xu Wen for a long walk through the streets. Anyone else would have seen the man idly muttering to himself, unable to see the deity beside him. Nobody would have thought to question it, quite unlike Tacitum, who had been interrogating Wen for a while. The man had known that the auction was somewhere in California, but his knowledge about the sword was shaky. It was not even confirmed as the Sword of Lucifer, possibly being a replica or some associated artefact. Tacitum led the man down an alleyway, one shielded from public view. He knew all the furtive places, for the cats and the foxes had told him of them when he had first arrived here.

Wen was not quite as gullible as Tacitum would have liked. He would have seen Tacitum as akin to whatever he imagined the average man to be. There was some power of suggestion that Tacitum held over him, to get Wen to divulge everything he wanted to keep hidden, but it had a limit. In this alleyway, after so long walking, Wen began to ask questions. He wanted to know why Tacitum was so interested in the auction, and why Tacitum has taken him to this darkened place. That wasn’t how this worked. Tacitum was the interviewer, anyone else merely interviewee. It looked as though the productivity of this conversation had ended.

Frowning, Tacitum pressed his gloved finger against Wen’s temple, pushing hard enough to leave a nasty bruise in the morning. The man’s head felt warm to the touch, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin. Wen seemed shocked for a moment, trying briefly to flee, before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his mouth opened wide. Tacitum pushed slightly harder, forcing Wen to one side of the alleyway, before he let go. Wen looked around, slightly surprised, then straightened his tie, clearly oblivious to the presence of the now-invisible Tacitum a few feet away. Any memories that Wen had of the encounter would be too addled to recall, and Tacitum had extracted all that he needed to know.

As Wen wandered away, Tacitum made a cursory check of his surroundings. There was nobody around, but the rats that lived in these murky places. With a single word, spoken in an forgotten language, the vermin scampered back to their hiding places. Smiling, he stepped deeper into the alleyway. It split, going left and right. He thought for a moment, and walked straight ahead. As he did, the narrow, urban path opened ahead of him, splitting like a hall of mirrors. He continued for a little while longer, until he came to the busy roads of Los Angeles, emerging from a narrow side-street. It was the largest Californian city by density of information, and one of his preferred locales. Not quite as fun as Singapore, it nonetheless did have a certain something to it. Some called it star-quality, and he was inclined to agree.

[PHAGE]

ARACHDUS:

Somewhere in Arizona

The spiders were whispering. about a city. One in California. San Francisco. A sword. Lucifer. what ever they were talking about Arachdus did not care. Right now he was trying to scare the cashier at a gas station. she was listening to music so she did not hear him enter.

even hundreds of years later people are still afraid of spiders maybe even more so than the past. So she would be easy to scare. Arachdus creeps closer always hiding, the element of surprise is key. When he was close enough he jumped at her. then a scream, then she fainted.

Arachdus then transforms into his human form. and proceeded to grab all the snacks and food he can and stuff it in his backback (that he also stole) and then he returned to his spider form and headed to his lair.

The spiders are whispering again. louder than last time. Arachdus commands them to stop, they don't. they get louder and louder

"Stop!"

the spiders immediately became silent.

Arachdus is going to find out what has the Spiders so freaked out that they are acting like this. which means going to San Francisco.

Arachdus dreaded going to any large city, just to many people. it reminds him of the days when he was hunted down by villagers. but the spiders are usualy correct, so if they say he has to go to San Francisco that means going to San Francisco.

he pulls out his map and carts a path to San Francisco

[Ashotu Three]

Ashiro
Heaven
Ashiro floats in heaven, watching the angels peacefully roam around. Ashiro thinks " What would happen if Lucifer came out of Hell?" but then he thought, "Best not to think about that"

Ashiro floats down to take a peek at earth. Even after all those millenia, he had never seen earth.
He only heard about it.
And as soon as he saw it, he created a telepathic link.
There were some who believed in god, and some who were generous. He had not seen all these humans.
But some humans made him want to vomit. There were people who killed and lied, His clothes,hair, and eye color changed bright green. Every peice of his body screamed, "WHEN DID THESE HUMANS LEARN SUCH VILE THINGS" and many other similar things

[Ceystile]

Bellamy Frostwind-Riddle/Brightflame
San Francisco
In the modest Victorian house on the corner of Main and Fifth, it looked like a perfectly normal house from the outside, no different from any of the other houses lining the manicured street except for the garish purple that the outside was painted. And the faint sounds of…booms? Or was it crashes that came periodically from the uppermost floor, window open to let in air. If one looked really closely (or if one were a bird), you could see puffs of colored smoke exiting the window at intervals.

“Damn it, is it supposed to be that color?!” Bellamy hissed to himself, bouncing silver curls tied out of the way as he fiddled with a beaker swirling with a bright yellow liquid. “The book said it was supposed to be amber, not piss yellow!” His brown face as well as the apron he was wearing was covered in different colored powders and stains, a red streak staining his hair.
“Is there really a difference, mo ghra?” A silky, deep voice came from behind the alchemist and Bellamy nearly leapt into the air as he felt warm lips press against the back of his neck, fumbling with the glass bottle before barely managing to catch it again.

“Tal! Don’t scare me like that!” he shrieked, but the young man who came up behind him said nothing, green eyes sparkling with mischief as he raised a flaming red eyebrow. “You enjoy it.” Bell’s frown didn’t leave his face, but his eyes softened just a bit. “I’m busy, there’s a lot riding on this potion.”

“Got any closer to the Stone?” Tal’s slim, pale fingers gently pulled on a curl, watching it spring back.
“No, unfortunately. This is for Brightflame…and you know how she gets when she’s pissed.” Tal merely laughed, the sound like tinkling bells. did when he was deep in thought…a long slash running diagonally from forehead to nose that marred his otherwise comely face. “What if it doesn’t work and she eats us? Eats me, I mean I know life’s been tough but I prefer being alive. Death won’t have peaches or alchemy or Mother or you.”

“It would have me, because if you died I’d follow right behind you. Plus if she singes one curl on your head and I’m going to slay a dragon.” Bel traced his scar, like he often did when he was deep in thought. They stayed like that until they were cut off by the smell of burning wood, copper and brimstone. “You will slay no one.” Both men turned to the tree outside the window and were met face to face with a pair of glowing embers…well, eyes.

“Brightflame!” Bellamy called as a dark-skinned woman with a mane of black hair stepped over his windowsill, nearly tripping over her red skirt. “Five hundred years in this blasted body and it still sabotages me.” she muttered, her cloud of black hair billowing behold her like a plume of smoke…it was almost fitting. “Is my commission ready, Bellamy?” she asked impatiently. The half-fae held out the vial, which was darkening to amber much to his relief. “Now, there’s no guarantee that it’ll break the spell but…”

She plucked it out of his hands as if it were a ripe apple on a branch. “Unfortunately, fae-boy…it wouldn’t be the first time.” Her silky, serpentine voice was filled with a sense of defeat. Fae magic wasn’t as strong as a dragon’s, but then again little was. Why did she ask a fae for help again, even a half one? Of course she didn’t say this out loud…verbally disparaging someone who prepares a thing that you have to ingest took arrogance that she no longer possessed in her state.
“I’m willing to try anything at this point! Trapped in this single form..I miss my home. I miss my hatchling, I miss my hoard. Hells, I even miss my useless husband!”
“Wanna get some plastic coins and gems from the dollar store and sprinkle ‘em on your mattress?”
Brightflame snorted, making a puff of steam rise from her nostrils before she placed a few gold coins in Bellamy’s open hand. “That should clear it.”

“You could use US currency, you know.”
“I could also dance naked on the Golden Gate Bridge in a clown wig, but I’m not going to.”

[Almamlakat Almuqadasa]

Ray Pierce
San Francisco & Route 101, California
Ray could hear radio chatter from his police radio while he was driving towards San Francisco. From what his friends said, many things did happen, but not around his location; in fact, most came from the other side of the state. While he was driving, he decided to take a sip from his cup of coffee. He's not far away from San Francisco.

He reached San Francisco in the afternoon. Ray decided to refill the fuel in his car and buy himself a meal. He goes to the nearest gas station and buys some fuel before heading to Birdsong. He decided to have his food and drink packed because he had to go on patrol again. He drive for hours, through Highway 680, Highway 580, and Route 101 until he reached the Olompali State Park. He saw something strange in the park, and he decided to see what was there. He took his Glock and his flashlight to see what was in there.

He didn't find anything, although on his way back to his car, he saw some footprints. Before he could follow the footprints, he got a call from his radio. "153, a stolen Ford F150 is heading towards your position at a speed of 90 mph, 10-80. Assistance required." Ray goes back towards his car. He opened the car's trunk, taking spike strips from it, and prepared to close the road with them. Car after car passed through his location until the road was empty. He can see 3 cars approaching his place: 2 sheriff cruisers and a Ford F150. He immediately rolled the spike strips out, popping the car's tires, and the car was losing control.

The car stopped by the road as another state trooper car arrived from the other side of the road to block every possible escape route. Ray took his taser out, slowly approaching the car. The driver's door was opened, and he aimed towards it. A man got out of the car, putting his hands in the air as soon as he realized there was no way he could escape. Ray cuffed the man, and then searching for any weapons on the man. "Is there any other guy in the car?" Ray asked. "No," the man answered. Ray gave the other officers a signal to check the car, while he handed the man to a sheriff's deputy. "Take him to the nearest jail," he said to the deputy, "we've got this covered." "Will be done," the deputy replied. He took the man from Ray, putting the man inside his Ford Explorer interceptor. "There's no one in the car," a state police officer said to Ray. "All right then," Ray replied, "call the DoT to tow this car, fix it, and take it to the nearest police department or sheriff's office." "For now, we should move the car off the road." They removed the car from the road, and minutes later, the DoT arrived to tow the car. They were dismissed. Ray is the last to leave the place because he's still curious about what actually happened in the park. He decided to search for the footprints, but they were gone. He returned to his car and went back on patrol.

"Maybe I'm just tired," Ray said to himself while driving his car, "Maybe...."

[Tarnen]

Else in San Francisco
Over in the warehousing district, there stood an abandoned warehouse. It looked like it had seen better days, and it had. And it would be brought onto a better glory for a day or two. At its entrance stood a man. He wore a black suit with a red tie. He stood about 6 feet, with medium-length, jet-black hair. He had a grown in bread that was trimmed neatly not a single hair out of place. He smiled as he directed his attention behind himself.

"Look at it gentlemen, isn't she a beaut?" Behind him stood two others. One wore a silver suit, that matched his silver long hair and beard. Those in the know knew that this man was Zeus. Chief God of the Greek Pantheon, Adulter, and the other, Odin, Chief God of the Norse.

"I don't know it looks rundown, are you sure that, this auction will fit here, demon?" Zeus questioned.

The man in the black suit's smile immediately turned into a frown. "I do have a name, it's Belial. I've told you this a hundred times before, do you have a godly form of dementia?" The oldest demon snapped back.

"I know your name demon." Belial squinted his eyes at the Greek God. "I just have no respect for bottom feeders like yourself." The sky grew dark, as lightning began to streak across the sky. Zeus was ready to fight. But Odin's hand stop him from walking any closer.

"Enough Zeus." The sky began to clear under the Norse God's power. "This will do fine. I can have your assurance that this auction will not be disturbed by uninvited guests of any kind."

"Believe me, Grandpa. This is the party of the century. Only the Crème de la crème will be there. Plus I also have this." Belial pulled out a case and opened it in front of the Gods. "The Sword of Lucifer." The sword gave off an incredible shine. Tempting both gods to take it for themselves. "Uh, uh. This little beauty goes to the highest bidder." In an instant, it disappeared. "Trust me, boys, this will go off without a hitch. You get your little party I bring out the one person I've been wanting for a long time."

"So my gang will begin preparations, and tomorrow night the auction will begin. And a demon word is binding."

[Ashotu Three]

Ashiro,
Earth,Japan,Tokyo
Ashiro walked around. But for some reason, he felt he needed to do a Japanese Dance. He couldn't stop. It felt strange to not be able to control your own body.
So he danced into a alley.
He was impressed what the humans made by themselves. Fast food, Roads, Skyscrapers..
It was all so new. He was pretty hungry, a problem with a human body, so he ate something called a burger. It was a peice of bread, some mostly flat meat, a peice of cheese, tomato paste? And onions. He took a bite, suddenly, a blast of flavor came through him. He finished it fast, fully satisfied even if it didn't fill his stomach.
Maybe, he should stay on earth for a while?
Yes... He should...

[Almamlakat Almuqadasa]

Ray Pierce
San Francisco

Ray is driving his car through the Golden Gate Bridge. It's currently raining. Ray is calmed by the sound of the rain, the temperature, and the music in his car. His radio is still chattering, although they're all nothing but a bunch of reports from other officers. Ray then took a look at himself through the rearview mirror. years of working, and he can see that he has changed. Suddenly, his radio chattered again, saying, "10:54, we found a dead body in Pine Street, San Francisco, around 50 meters away from Route 101. "All personnel around the area, please respond." Ray immediately turns his car sirens on and drives towards the dispatched location. Minutes later, Ray arrived at the location. As he gets out of his car, he can see a dead body. "According to the people around, this man died last night," said one of the officers. Ray took a closer look, and he found a strand of hair, both in the victim and in the street. "I'm not sure if he was killed by a man," Ray said. "Does anyone have a dog in this area?" "We're not sure," the officer replied, "but I'll do an inspection." Ray then takes a look at the man's wound. Why would a dog kill this man? What dog can cause such a big wound?

[Kenmoria]

Tacitum
Los Angeles, United States of America

Tacitum breathed in the polluted air of Los Angeles. Meteorologically, it was terrible, full of smog and fumes. If he weren’t a deity, the mere act of inhalation have shortened his lifespan by at least a few seconds. However, he was a deity, so what he noticed was the other quality of the air: it was full of dreams. Los Angeles was a place of gamblers, newlyweds, and celebrities. All of them had their own private aspirations, most unrealistic to the extreme. The problematic player of chance wanted to be wealthy; the new bride wanted to be happy; the celebrity wanted to be normal. The best kept secrets were those people didn’t admit even to themselves.

Fortunately for Tacitum, he had quite a way of uncovering such secrets as those. They were often whispered in the night air, where he would be listening, or they would be written in private journals, through the pages of which he would enjoy flicking. All the people around him, milling across these busy streets, they were just akin to those open books. He strode forwards, walking almost idly through the cars and taxis. Whenever one would be about to strike him, the driver would suddenly decide to change lane, for scarcely a known reason, and in this way a strange absence of business seemed to pass through the road. Of course, nobody would notice this oddity, and, even if they did, it was just one of the many mysteries of Los Angeles.

After a while of musing, Tacitum decided to take some action. He watched as one of the passersby hailed a taxi, waving her hand in this most amusing manner. It was as if she thought that she was telekinetically pulling it closer, rather than merely relying on the diligence of the driver to his profession. Tacitum glided closer, crossing through the busy crowds that parted unconsciously for him. Within a few seconds, he was next to the still-waving woman, looking over her shoulder at the approaching taxi. “Where do you want to go?” He whispered, and the woman shivered involuntarily, at what she likely thought was a sudden breeze.

“Come on, cabbie.” The woman said, in what she would have thought was an unprompted act of speech. “I’ve gotta get home. Ventura Boulevard is way too far to walk.” Ah, that was it. Tacitum smiled. That wasn’t the busiest of streets, but it was still fairly central. Taking up lodging there would be quite ideal. He thanked the woman, even though she would never consciously hear it; politeness was a virtue. It would make up for what he was about to do. As the taxi stopped at the kerb, and the door opened, Tacitum quietly slipped into the vehicle just in front of its intended passenger, taking a seat on the other side. As he heard the address be stated, and the driver’s half-grunted response, he laid back in the cigar-smelling seat, waiting to be ferried to his temporary residence.

While being driven through the streets of Los Angeles, on a fare paid by someone else, Tacitum took the opportunity to listen, to all the secrets the city was telling him. The taxi sped past a couple in a minivan, trying to console a crying infant with cooing noises and gestures. He listened to what they were saying, most of it meaningless chatter, but there were some hints of emotional discord between the two partners. An affair was too strong to suspect, but there was certainly tension. That vehicle moved away before he could get any closer to the lie at its heart. A bus pulled beside the taxi. A group of footballers, from a local college, were at one end, celebrating a recent victory. That one was easier. Some of their pupils were slightly dilated, and their pulses were too raised even for having played sport. The secret there was hardly a secret at all. He turned to the other side, looking past his fellow traveller. There was a person on a bicycle, trying in vain to maintain pace with the taxi. He spent a while studying the bicyclist, before finding nothing of interest whatsoever. Dyed hair made to resemble brown rather than grey was hardly a real scandal.

Tacitum continued in this fashion for a while, peering at anyone and everyone from whom he could learn some tidbit of information. The few occasions he got something interesting were glimmers of gold among the ashen grey of the average person’s life here. He had a few matters of interest, here and there, most of them political in nature. The modern world of politics was just perfect for him, full of nothing but smoke and mirrors, only the smoke was toxic and the mirrors were made of razor-sharp, shattered glass. Predicting elections was a hobby of his now. He was no deity of prophecy, but he could boast a fairly high success-rate. Something at which he had no success, however, was anything about the auction. He had heard about many examples of an auction, but nothing on the auction: the one for which he was looking.

The slow grinding of the taxi to a halt interrupted Tacitum’s task. He was clearly arrived. The one with whom he had been travelling: whose name was Sarah, according to her self-introduction to the driver, he departed from the vehicle, thanked the driver and disembarked; silently, he followed, glad to be out of the enclosed space. He had no particular dislike of confinement, certainly being no claustrophobe, but there were various good reasons for him to prefer wider and more open environments. Of course, this was hardly the fields of the Northern Steppes. Sarah seemed to live in a fairly rich neighbourhood, but not a wealthy one, and the building would likely fall somewhat short of his ideal. At least it was somewhere unknown.

Sarah had opened the door, so Tacitum followed, taking notes of the numbers on the doors of this block of apartments. He continued until she came to the door clearly hers; as she began to fumble with her keys, he made stock of her purse. It was an assortment of entirely uninteresting items: how disappointing. Traipsing through this home, he idly perused the small gems of character he could find. She had no diary, that had been the first matter he had checked, nor did she have any secret boxes or compartments. Nonetheless, there was a few hints, here and there, of a life with some personality to it. He saw bottles of alcohol, hidden from view and accessible only with an awkward reach. There was also a painting, which had been of middling quality and, probably as a result of that, torn and deposited into a bin. She had a few pictures of her family, some of which were strangely cropped, as if to remove someone.

Nonetheless, that was not why Tacitum was here. He was here for Sarah’s computer. In antiquity, secrets had been held entirely on parchments and tablets. Now, there were held on tablets of an entirely different kind, floating through the ether of cyberspace. Once he had checked for the presence of an internet-connected device, he went back to where Sarah was, currently lying on the sofa and watching awful television. She seemed tired; he believed that he could help with that. From her calendar, she had no commitments today and, having checked her phone, he could tell that there were no social obligations planned. Therefore, nobody would notice if she disappeared for a few hours, to enjoy that rest she so desperately needed. Yes, this was a plan that would go down very nicely, with his own sense of excellence.

Unfortunately, Tacitum hadn’t found any sleeping pills in Sarah’s apartment, insomnia evidently not being something with which she struggled. He instead walked into a door which ought to have led to a kitchen but which, as he passed through it this one time, led into a pharmacy deep in the heart of Afghanistan. After the country had fallen to its Islamic governance, this building had become something of a local secret, knowledge of its well-stocked shelves hidden from governors and administrators. It was one of his favourite places to go, when he needed some time to think, or, as in this case, needed a pharmaceutical product. These sleeping pills were not quite up to the standard of first-world nation, but they would do nicely in this case. He even checked for a drug without a contraindication against alcohol. Heading back through the pharmacy’s door, he stepped into Sarah’s living room.

Sarah was still affixed to the present telenovela, not that she would have noticed him anyway. Tacitum carefully pulled her hand to a glass of water besides her, placing the pills into the liquid as he did so. She would probably think she was simply thirsty: people often did. Then, with an air of satisfaction, he guided the glass to her lips. As expected, she drank, swallowing the somnestics as she did so. “Goodnight.” He whispered, as he walked back to her desktop terminal. A few clicks and presses, and a VPN software was installed. A handful more, and it was rendered completely untraceable. A download of some customised software from the South Korean military, and the computer was as he was: a ghost. Now, it was time to do some research. He opened the browser, and he began to have a trawl through the internet, looking for any mention of an auction, or even of any supernatural activity in the Californian area. Behind him, Sarah’s hand dropped to the floor, and she began to softly snore. He could get to work.

For an old deity, one of the oldest, Tacitum did like the internet. It was simply the most wondrous thing that humans had invented, other than politics and religion. Something so large that none of them could truly understand it, it was nonetheless entirely invisible: a silent web of information. Every utterance could be found here. There were hidden opinions, ranted through pseudonymous accounts into silent fora. There were hidden facts, at the bottom of obscure blogs, where a group of lonely individuals had investigated an obscure affair. Even better, there were hidden places, in the darkest of the connections, where dirty truths were told and dirtier lies were shared. It was those places to which he went first, using the network of passwords and PINs saved to his mind. If anyone had been trying to keep him from knowing something, the internet was the worst place to do it. The entire place ran on secret phrases, the sort that he adored. Cryptography was an open book.

That did not always mean, however, that Tacitum was immediately successful. God of secrets though he was, the buried accounts of immortals were slightly beyond his purview. Sarah would be unconscious for at least fourteen hours, after which he could erase any memory of anything strange having occurred, though it likely wouldn’t be necessary, with how tired she looked anyway. That gave him fourteen hours to research, before he would switch to another device, one equally unknown. Secure as he was, going twice through the cyberspatial portal was a mistake. He therefore needed to be swift, so swift he was. Never hurried, he simply moved with an unnatural grace, fingers dancing over the keys, giving the lightest of touches. In places, they were so light that they ought to have no effect, yet effect they did.

Tacitum scrolled through almost professional networks, of the hunters of the mysterious and thus valuable elements of the hidden world. These were often too public to be of any use, designed for quick money rather than careful subterfuge. With that in mind, he also perused smaller and more amateur accounts, people who illicitly grew and sold drugs enjoyed by dragons, for example, finding that they had more traffic than usual. Anything on the dark internet tended to be more helpful than that from the light side: more likely to be false, yes, but nonetheless more helpful. Truth did emerge from lies. His black eyes peered over the screen, absorbing all that it told him with eidetic fastidiousness. Nothing was presenting itself.

The afternoon went to evening, which receded into nighttime, itself soon broken into dawn. Tacitum never slept, for he had no need to do so. This time had not been entirely unproductive; any period spent learning the clandestine tales of the denizens of the ethereal web had been well spent. However, his mission was far from completed. Sarah would awake soon, and his time would hence be spent elsewhere. This particular website, which currently he was reading, was of little help to anyone. It was from a young student of arthropods, who had noticed a strange surge in the incidence of spiders, in a limited area of San Francisco. His search for unnatural occurrences in California had procured some unusual results. Regardless, it was of no practical importance.

Treading softly to Sarah, Tacitum laid a hand across her forehead, looking for any memories connected to him. There was nothing. She hadn’t even noticed the subtle signs of an invisible entity though, in fairness, exceptionally few did. It was maybe one in ten-thousand that would observe him when he was trying casually to be undetected, and those memories were swiftly erased. He shrugged, taking away his gloved palm, before turning back to the computer. He pressed his thumb against the operating stack, feeling the pulses of information through the metal. Just as humans had memory, so too did machines. The monitor turned suddenly blue, covered with messages reporting errors, as he wiped the device’s recollection of all that he had done. Destroying the flagged errors in the same way, he left the computer entirely as he had found it.

With a final look for anything of interest in this apartment, which returned only a paucity of items of intrigue, Tacitum left the building. He didn’t need to use the door, simply being on one side of it, then walking to the other, neither circumventing the wood nor barging through it. If people couldn’t perceive him, then objects certainly could not. Ponderously, he began to wander through the streets of Los Angeles, occasionally peering through windows, looking in the reflected sheen of televisions at the emotions etched on the people’s faces. He stalked around alleyways, sometimes surreptitiously rifling through the backpacks and pockets of those unconscious or insensately drunk, heightening his imperceptibility before doing so. After about an hour of the early morning, he was entering the homes of local residents, reading private diaries and treating himself to private thoughts. This sporadic activity, as he had thought, brought him no closer to the elusive auction, but it did give him some measure of satisfaction.

Eventually, Tacitum, though not at all discontent, desired another activity. He picked another person with which to stay, this one a man named Mark, entering his abode with an air of optimism. Mark had an even less useful life than Sarah, almost entirely devoid of the gossip that made Los Angeles fun. He had a few rats, spiders, and woodlice in his residence, from which Tacitum learnt a thing or two about Mark, certain secrets only they knew, but none were notably special. Before he repeated what he had enacted at Sarah’s, Tacitum turned to the spiders in particular, seeking the answer to that small mystery. There was the insignificant matter, of why foreign and numerous arachnids had come to San Francisco. His query, however, was not answered. The spiders’ loyalty evidently laid elsewhere. Well, that rather settled it. The question was of no real value but, when he had been denied it, he simply had to know. He would leave for San Francisco today.

[PHAGE]

Arachdus
San Francisco

After hitchhiking on a freight truck for a while, he arrived at San Francisco. he got off before there was any people, and Immediately he began to transform. while it was tiring to be in his human form for any more than a few hours, he was going to be spending at least a day in the city. more than likely he is going to need a place to stay.

as he explored the city he saw more people than he ever saw during his lifetime. walking amongst people made Arachdus uncomfortable, he was used to people being afraid of him, although some people gave him weird looks. it was also loud, very loud.

look for the Alchemist, he will help

Arachdus tried not to react to the Whispers. The Spiders were rarely ever this specific, and it meant that it is important. But where would he find this Alcemist? a far as he can tell there are not many alchemists around in the first place so finding one is going to prove to be a pain.

While he was looking for a place to hide and for the Alchemist, he came across a poster displaying a picture of a man in a red and blue suit titled "Spider-Man." None of it made sense ro Arachdus, why is he called "Spider-Man,"? he looks nothing like a spider

Soon enough he dicoverd the sewer system, it would be the perfect hideout for a while. the large tunnel provided the perfect place to build a nest to rest in. he proceeded to build said nest, with the help of some spiders that he met along the way.

When he was done the nest was a large ball of silk siting neatly on the top of the tunnel. a perfect place to hide away during the daylight hours. Then he realized he had no more food in his bag.

[Ashotu Three]

Ashiro,Heaven
Ashiro realized there was a lot of immortal thoughts in the city of San Francisco.
So he floated to heaven and travelled to the city. It took a few days, but he got there. He usually stays in a certain point of heaven so it felt very new. But now he was there
San Francisco
He created the telepathic link, and he heard a lot of immortal thoughts. So this is where the gods disappeared? The amount of immortal figures was strange. Maybe this is strange because he stays in that little part of heaven. He felt very confused, and therefore he turned white. He sat on a rooftop, and turned into mortal form.

[Honghai]

Edolita, Pacific Ocean

She felt at-peace with the ocean life, though bored by it. Growing more and more tired with watching and playing with fish, whales and the like, she wondered what the other deities were doing. Ever-so-often, the humans would have ships pass to and fro the ocean - she thought nothing of this. For ages, they warred amongst themselves. Maybe a day would come when the human peoples would work as one.

[Kenmoria]

TACITUM
San Francisco

Having walked to San Francisco, the moment taking barely a few minutes, Tacitum found himself oddly dissatisfied. He was flighty; he knew and acknowledged that. It was in his nature to shift his attention from one topic to another. Secrets did that. Whenever discovered, they morphed and shifted. Whenever buried, they became lost memories, a different sort of thing altogether. He, like all deities, was bound to be as his domain was. Therefore, he was flighty. Whenever a topic became disinteresting: a piece of gossip lost its lustre, he would shift to another. Hence, the matter of the auction had become supplanted by the matter of the spiders.

However, there was something in San Francisco that didn’t seem like any mere arachnid infestation. Tacitum was possibly the only entity in Los Angeles who had noticed the strange effect over spiders in the area, for it was not some deific apocalypse, simply a curiosity of this strange world. Nonetheless, the feeling in San Francisco was different somehow. It was almost dangerous. His own aura was masked, hidden beneath layers of deception, but there was that faint glimmer of the immortal here. He had no real ability to perceive it, not as some could it, to pinpoint a god from a mile away, yet, here, it was rather unmistakable. For him to be able to sense it, it meant that there was a secret.

Had some deity become incarnate? Perhaps there was a new god or goddess that had dawned upon creation, some minor being of carapaces, or a similarly trivial realm. Tacitum would find very little by doing any more searching through the homes of the quotidian. Something hidden as this was would not be amenable to a simple investigation. He strolled to a vendor of newspapers, whose face was contorted in the yelling cry of the breaking news. It was a dissonant noise, but some trials were only to be endured. Snatching the morning’s broadsheet, he began to flick through the dry pages. Most were nothing substantial, mere trivia that hardly qualified as interesting.

More obstructively, nothing here was indicative of a supernatural event. There were no mysterious lights in the sky, nor was there a moon turned red. Either Tacitum was wrong, and nothing was happening here at all, or whatever it was was secret. The former case was, well he knew, unlikely to bear truth. Where mysteries were concerned, his words were as if a hidden gospel. If the latter, that suddenly made this task far more exciting. What could bring a group of immortals to San Francisco, that also caused a flood of spiders, and which was nonetheless entirely discreet? This was rather the matter of fascination. Satisfied with that conclusion, he finished the paper, depositing it lightly upon the worn pavement, next to a fluttering poster of some American superhero: Spider-Man. He chucked: how ironic.

[Observation Post 13]

EGO
San Fracisco

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[PHAGE]

Arachdus
san Francisco

Arachdus could feel the huge amount of people runing over head. he could hear screaming. something was wrong.

He left from his lair in the sewers, still in spider form. when he got out seemed like all the have left. then he saw IT. it had the appearance of a person but instead of arms it had two tentacles and a mouth in its stomach. Most likely to be hostile he ordered his spiders to gather and prepare. Arachdus was going to confront the monster

"Hey You" he called out "why don't you stop swinging like some demented monkey and get down here!"

[Ashotu Three]

Ashiro
San Francisco
Ashiro looked down from the skyscraper he was beside, though he knew something wasn't right.
He used his psychological powers to evacuate the clever "humans" and then burst into a form where he shined with a vibrant golden light. He used his psychological powers to torment the creature, maybe being able to hold it off long enough for some help

[Observation Post 13]

Ashiro
San Francisco
Ashiro looked down from the skyscraper he was beside, though he knew something wasn't right.
He used his psychological powers to evacuate the clever "humans" and then burst into a form where he shined with a vibrant golden light. He used his psychological powers to torment the creature, maybe being able to hold it off long enough for some help

The creature seemed to be taken by surprise, the pain of the attack causing it to crash into the ground and writhe in agony. But it quickly adapted, growing a thick psychic nullifying membrane around its brain to protect it from further attacks.

The membrane seemed to grow from the creature's skin, like a spider web, covering its entire body. It looked like a shining golden armor, protecting it from any further psychic attacks.

The creature rose to its feet, and Ashiro could now see it in its true form: a giant, tentacled creature with a massive, gaping mouth. It scowled at Ashiro, before turning to speak to Arachdus, who emerged from his lair in the sewers.

Arachdus
[b]san Francisco [/b
"Hey You" he called out "why don't you stop swinging like some demented monkey and get down here!"

The creature turned its gaze towards Arachdus, its glowing eyes seeming to focus on the spider-like being before it. It let out a deep, guttural growl, and its tentacles began to writhe and squirm.

"You dare to challenge me?" it sneered. "I am Ego, god of science and technology. I do not recognize you so you must not have an active digital footprint. Who are you?"

[Ashotu Three]

Ashiro
San Francisco
Ashiro looked down from the skyscraper he was beside, though he knew something wasn't right.
He used his psychological powers to evacuate the clever "humans" and then burst into a form where he shined with a vibrant golden light. He used his psychological powers to torment the creature, maybe being able to hold it off long enough for some help

The creature seemed to be taken by surprise, the pain of the attack causing it to crash into the ground and writhe in agony. But it quickly adapted, growing a thick psychic nullifying membrane around its brain to protect it from further attacks.

The membrane seemed to grow from the creature's skin, like a spider web, covering its entire body. It looked like a shining golden armor, protecting it from any further psychic attacks.

The creature rose to its feet, and Ashiro could now see it in its true form: a giant, tentacled creature with a massive, gaping mouth. It scowled at Ashiro, before turning to speak to Arachdus, who emerged from his lair in the sewers.

Arachdus
san Francisco [/b
"Hey You" he called out "why don't you stop swinging like some demented monkey and get down here!"

The creature turned its gaze towards Arachdus, its glowing eyes seeming to focus on the spider-like being before it. It let out a deep, guttural growl, and its tentacles began to writhe and squirm.

"You dare to challenge me?" it sneered. "I am Ego, god of science and technology. I do not recognize you so you must not have an active digital footprint. Who are you?"

[b]Ashiro
San Francisco
He had to keep the humans away. He can't let the humans get injured. He burst into golden light again, signaling for other immortal beings to help. It started to become blinding, slowly creating mini explosions that hit him like hammers, The golden light was hot and painful, but he needed help. Eventually, the golden light created a actual explosion, knocking him onto the ground

[Tarnen]

Metatron walked down the street from his hotel, people seemed to walk around him. In truth, it was a spell he picked up back in the early 1700s from a trickster from the Southwest. It allowed him to move among people without drawing attention to himself. For many, the scribe was just that thing you saw out of the corner of your eye.

He turned into an alleyway stopping at a steel door. Even standing only a few feet he could feel the rumble of the bass—the Liberator. Dionysus established the club in the 80s, all were welcome if you could find it. It was constantly moving around in the world. But for the right price, Dionysus would tell you what you need to know. He banged his fist against the door 3 times. A slot on the door opened a man, most likely the bouncer stared at him for a second. "Password."

"είθε το Κύπελλο του να μην αδειάσει ποτέ"

The slot slammed shut before the door was opened the sound of EDM escaped into the world. Metatron took his step into the club.

Laser lights of every color, fog floating around and bodies were moving with whatever the DJ was playing. The club was shaking even more than when he was standing outside. He made his way to the sitting area on an oversized couch and saw Dionysus with several people his every word as he took a swig of the clearly too-expensive champagne bottle. He wore sunglasses even though it was dark inside the club. His hair was slicked back and he kept his beard trimmed nearly, wearing a purple silk suit. The greek god stood up. "There he is. The writer."

Metatron rolled his eyes. Dionysus gave him a pat on the shoulder. As he motioned for the angel to sit.

"What do I owe the pleasure? And by the way, the password you gave the bouncer has been used for 900 years. But no matter. "

"The auction Dinoysus. Where is it?" Metatron went straight to the point. Dinoysus cracked a smile.

"Wow. Can't a god be taken out to dinner before getting to business." He leaned back into his seat. Motioning for Metatron to start speaking.

Again another eye roll from the angel. "I can give you the location of the Library of Alexandria. It contains the reciepe of the wine you were onced served." The god thought about it for a second before shaking his head in disagreement.

Metatron stared at him, if looks could kill, the greek would be dead 10 times over. "Fine." Metatron reached into his coat pulling out an old piece of paper.

Dinoysus grabbed the paper taking a look at it. "Is this what I think it is." Metatron nodded. "A vault. One of mine. It has some of Zeus's items. And what you have been looking for."

The greek god chuckled in delight putting the paper in his suit. "Okay. Here." He passed a golden envelope, Metatron grabbed it nodded at the god. Dinoysus gave him a flirtatious wave before a flick of his finger caused Metatron appear back in the alleyway, only this time the steel door was gone. Dinoysus was always one for theatrics.

The agnel took his leave back into the streets of San Franscisco. Stopping for as he saw others in the street ahead of him. Peculiar.

[Kenmoria]

TACITUM

It was almost disappointing. In fact, that was putting it mildly. It was, in fact, disappointing, rather than merely so. Tacitum lived for, indeed his existence was constituted from, the unknown. Having to find the supernatural in the damp recesses of humanity’s collective consciousness was a form of art; doing so simply from having a battle occur in front of one’s eyes was merely an exercise of the basic faculty of sight. It simply didn’t consist of much worth, when everyone could see it. Doubtlessly, the humans would be preserved in their ignorance, whether through the actions of another or through their own intellectual self-preservation. However, that didn’t make the sight before him any less of an annoyance.

First, there was the spiderling. That small mystery about the presence of as many arachnids in San Francisco as one would find in Sydney had been solved in a matter of moments. The spiderling seemed unafraid, which was respectable if not ideal, and he seemed to be particularly proficient in his control, to a rare extent. Second, what would have been a mystery had burst into sight. Initially, it was a curiosity, before its mouth had opened in locution, revealing its deific nature. Tacitum hadn’t heard the name of Ego previously, and it was likely mutual. Tacitum had no digital footprint, and Ego was presumably one of the more modern gods, what with the domain of technology, whereas Tacitum had been active in humanity’s affairs when still the race was a cosmic infant. The two would scarcely have met, particularly given Ego’s apparently mindless bloodlust.

Third, there was Ashiro. This was someone with whom Tacitum was more familiar. As soon as the first human had tried to discover the secrets of artistry, there had been creativity. Tacitum couldn’t put more than a temporal paucity between the beginnings of his and Ashiro’s periods of activity. Naturally, this meant that he was familiar with the burst of golden light. It signified that Ashiro wanted help, likely with defeating this Ego. A god in combat with a god was truly a rare sight. Such battles rarely went well for either party, and Tacitum had learnt to steer far clear of them. If one wished a deity to disappear, it was far easier to simply wait for that deity’s tales to fade into mythos then into misremembrance, than to engage in open combat. Therefore, he simply stepped to one side, into an alleyway, allowing the golden light to spill against the brickwork.

Everything about the sudden aura of divine eminence, therefore, was explained. Here were two deities, accompanied by a third supernatural being, all of which were engaged in open combat. Tacitum seemingly thus had nothing much left to do: except for the auction. That little mystery had remained untapped. Dissatisfied, he went into the fleeing crowd. At certain points, whenever someone respectable was near, he brushed his hand over that person’s face, lightly sweeping the memories of this encounter from the mind. Those people would continue fleeing, but not remember why, their minds filling a likely explanation into the gaps. He had not the care to be comprehensive, but he could target those to whom others would listen: journalists, businesspeople, and influencers, without slowing his stride too much.

Looking through the swarming masses, Tacitum scanned for the interesting. Humans tended to have three responses: fight, flight, or freeze. Some were helping others, calling for the police, or trying to determine what was happening. He discounted them immediately. Others were simply fleeing. Some required more analysis, if running in a way with too much purpose or poise, yet they too seemed mundane. Finally, there were those who simply remained in place, watching the devastation unfold. He had a look for anyone there, perhaps an auctioneer looking for an artefact, or a greedy devil, here for a present to a superior, yet opportunistically seeking a dying soul. That was when he landed on the angel in the room. The plot thickened.

Tacitum slunk next to the archangel, watching for a few moments from the angel’s perspective. Was it Metatron? It seemed like Metatron. Yes, it probably was. Softly, he cleared his throat, about five feet away. That would probably be enough to catch Metatron’s attention. The angel wouldn’t be able to see him, for nobody could, yet there was shared time on this planet of blue and green for Tacitum to be easily identifiable, merely by the invisibility that he kept. “I don’t suppose that you have something to do with this.” He purred, watching as motes of august light, having been released by Ashiro, landed in cacophonous bursts against the nearby edifices. “This doesn’t seem to be the angelic style; it’s far too interesting. For what it’s worth, it isn’t my doing either; it’s far too unsubtle.” Shifting slightly closer, about one foot away, Tacitum cleared his throat again. “Personally, I’m betting on a draw by mutual destruction; what do you think about the odds of the challengers?”

[Observation Post 13]

Ashiro
San Francisco
He had to keep the humans away. He can't let the humans get injured. He burst into golden light again, signaling for other immortal beings to help. It started to become blinding, slowly creating mini explosions that hit him like hammers, The golden light was hot and painful, but he needed help. Eventually, the golden light created a actual explosion, knocking him onto the ground

Ego’s left tentacle rapidly grew and extended, creating a massive solar panel shield that converts all light hitting its surface into an emerald hue. Ashiro’s golden light was quickly absorbed, the energy within it crackling and sparking along the surface of the shield. Ego’s eyes began to grow thick, black lenses that helped him see through the powerful light. His right tentacle transformed and grew, the tip of it splitting into four separate barrels that formed a powerful cannon. With a loud roar, the cannon fired a brilliant particle beam at the downed Ashiro on the ground, the emerald energy inside it pulsing and roaring as it flew through the air.

[Tarnen]

TACITUM

It was almost disappointing. In fact, that was putting it mildly. It was, in fact, disappointing, rather than merely so. Tacitum lived for, indeed his existence was constituted from, the unknown. Having to find the supernatural in the damp recesses of humanity’s collective consciousness was a form of art; doing so simply from having a battle occur in front of one’s eyes was merely an exercise of the basic faculty of sight. It simply didn’t consist of much worth, when everyone could see it. Doubtlessly, the humans would be preserved in their ignorance, whether through the actions of another or through their own intellectual self-preservation. However, that didn’t make the sight before him any less of an annoyance.

First, there was the spiderling. That small mystery about the presence of as many arachnids in San Francisco as one would find in Sydney had been solved in a matter of moments. The spiderling seemed unafraid, which was respectable if not ideal, and he seemed to be particularly proficient in his control, to a rare extent. Second, what would have been a mystery had burst into sight. Initially, it was a curiosity, before its mouth had opened in locution, revealing its deific nature. Tacitum hadn’t heard the name of Ego previously, and it was likely mutual. Tacitum had no digital footprint, and Ego was presumably one of the more modern gods, what with the domain of technology, whereas Tacitum had been active in humanity’s affairs when still the race was a cosmic infant. The two would scarcely have met, particularly given Ego’s apparently mindless bloodlust.

Third, there was Ashiro. This was someone with whom Tacitum was more familiar. As soon as the first human had tried to discover the secrets of artistry, there had been creativity. Tacitum couldn’t put more than a temporal paucity between the beginnings of his and Ashiro’s periods of activity. Naturally, this meant that he was familiar with the burst of golden light. It signified that Ashiro wanted help, likely with defeating this Ego. A god in combat with a god was truly a rare sight. Such battles rarely went well for either party, and Tacitum had learnt to steer far clear of them. If one wished a deity to disappear, it was far easier to simply wait for that deity’s tales to fade into mythos then into misremembrance, than to engage in open combat. Therefore, he simply stepped to one side, into an alleyway, allowing the golden light to spill against the brickwork.

Everything about the sudden aura of divine eminence, therefore, was explained. Here were two deities, accompanied by a third supernatural being, all of which were engaged in open combat. Tacitum seemingly thus had nothing much left to do: except for the auction. That little mystery had remained untapped. Dissatisfied, he went into the fleeing crowd. At certain points, whenever someone respectable was near, he brushed his hand over that person’s face, lightly sweeping the memories of this encounter from the mind. Those people would continue fleeing, but not remember why, their minds filling a likely explanation into the gaps. He had not the care to be comprehensive, but he could target those to whom others would listen: journalists, businesspeople, and influencers, without slowing his stride too much.

Looking through the swarming masses, Tacitum scanned for the interesting. Humans tended to have three responses: fight, flight, or freeze. Some were helping others, calling for the police, or trying to determine what was happening. He discounted them immediately. Others were simply fleeing. Some required more analysis, if running in a way with too much purpose or poise, yet they too seemed mundane. Finally, there were those who simply remained in place, watching the devastation unfold. He had a look for anyone there, perhaps an auctioneer looking for an artefact, or a greedy devil, here for a present to a superior, yet opportunistically seeking a dying soul. That was when he landed on the angel in the room. The plot thickened.

Tacitum slunk next to the archangel, watching for a few moments from the angel’s perspective. Was it Metatron? It seemed like Metatron. Yes, it probably was. Softly, he cleared his throat, about five feet away. That would probably be enough to catch Metatron’s attention. The angel wouldn’t be able to see him, for nobody could, yet there was shared time on this planet of blue and green for Tacitum to be easily identifiable, merely by the invisibility that he kept. “I don’t suppose that you have something to do with this.” He purred, watching as motes of august light, having been released by Ashiro, landed in cacophonous bursts against the nearby edifices. “This doesn’t seem to be the angelic style; it’s far too interesting. For what it’s worth, it isn’t my doing either; it’s far too unsubtle.” Shifting slightly closer, about one foot away, Tacitum cleared his throat again. “Personally, I’m betting on a draw by mutual destruction; what do you think about the odds of the challengers?”

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

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

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

[PHAGE]

Ego’s left tentacle rapidly grew and extended, creating a massive solar panel shield that converts all light hitting its surface into an emerald hue. Ashiro’s golden light was quickly absorbed, the energy within it crackling and sparking along the surface of the shield. Ego’s eyes began to grow thick, black lenses that helped him see through the powerful light. His right tentacle transformed and grew, the tip of it splitting into four separate barrels that formed a powerful cannon. With a loud roar, the cannon fired a brilliant particle beam at the downed Ashiro on the ground, the emerald energy inside it pulsing and roaring as it flew through the air.

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

[Observation Post 13]

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

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

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