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The corners of Eve's mouth twitched threatening to become a smile but the seriousness of their situation put a small damper on her mirth. Still, it was nice to see her friends in good spirits, even Bluebird who she didn't quite know yet, and Tarva who for the moment was focusing on the team's mission and worrying less about the danger.

"How much do you think this cabin weighs? I might be able to lift it," Eve asked looking for a control panel to make the elevator rise. She was looking for options and thought back to one of her first real 'hero' acts in Freedom City, ripping the gondola off of a blimp and levitating it to a roof so the people inside could escape.

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Blue Fox's telekinesis carried the elevator all the way to the top, the shaft walls screeching in protest after just a few minutes. "The walls are gut-foundered for our blood!" exclaimed Bluebird cheerfully in an accent vaguely akin to upstate New York's. "We'll deke 'em! Grab your toques and hang on!" With Bluebird's help, they escaped the compressing walls and after a few minutes they rushed to the very top of the huge structure - so fast that their hasty ascent actually lifted them all off their feet. When the doors slid open, they were inside what appeared to be an Omegadrone repair area - there were broken parts of units all around, some standing with eerie blank faces with their armor either removed or retracted (depending on the model) and two big repair units in the process of either eviscerating or repairing one particularly burly model, its arms and legs held in place by sizzling metal wires as its skin was gradually replaced with hardened steel. 

 

For a moment, as the doors slid open, there was silence, before one of the guard units looked directly into the open shaft and said the standard Omegadrone greeting. 

 

"DIE FOR OMEGA!" 

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"No."

Looking back at her companions Eve smiled then sprinted toward the nearest pack of Omegadrones, her ubiquitous psychic blades forming in her hands. Of her team Eve knew she wasn't the hardest hitting--Indira and Kimber were certainly more capable--but she was faster and more agile, and hopefully enough of a distraction that her friends could do what they do best.

She was, however, acutely aware that she was also not as durable as her friends but mortal peril isn't enough to deter the young Frenchwoman.

Coming face to face with the first pack of Omegadrones, the Blue Fox led with a few probing attacks but failed to penetrate their armor.

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Tarva screamed in terror and the shadow screamed too, reaching out with hungry, grasping fingers for the Omegadrones that surrounded them. But the drones had come prepared, for shadow magic if not for Tarva, and suddenly brilliant lights flashed bright in a neon-blue glare all through the room. The advancing drones glistened like so many hellish knights as they stalked towards the heroines, and Tarva covered her eyes, obviously staggered by the omnipresent glare that had destroyed every shadow in the room. She stumbled backwards against the wall, her inky black aura transforming into a nearly opaque shell. "My doom has come! Just as I knew it would!" she declared, and for a moment there was a distinct note of triumph in her voice even now. A moment that faded quickly as a shrieking powerpike came closer and closer to her face. "Save yourselves, my friends! Destroy the doomdrone forge before it can destroy you!

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"Gosh, Tarvie, you're so defeatist, seriously!" Ghost Girl chided as she sped past - and in part through - the terrorized witch. The phantom subconsciously shifted her form slightly as she barreled toward the drones, fingers elongating into icicle points, the eyes behind her domino mask becoming icy blue embers set deep in pools of hollow shadow, he reaper's cloak flaring outward as though caught in a blizzard wind that could not be felt. She passed effortlessly though the murderous cyborgs one after another, banking in tight turns and unpredictable zig-zags to catch as many as possible, leaving a trail of wildly sparking circuits and fused wires as she passed. The soul tearing mechanisms that had transformed hapless meat into blasphemous killers plummeted shrieking into obsolescence as they failed completely to process the presence of the pure, vengeful spirit. "Don't think I missed you calling us your friends, though, big softie!" she called in a chipper voice as the drone she'd buried her arm in up to the elbow shuddered violently and drowned sputtering on its own leaking oil.

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"I am not interested in dying for Omega," Wraith replied to the drones; in an odd counter to more human behavior, the sudden threat seemed to calm her, rather than work her up further. Her voice was even, measured, ever-polite and almost...apologetic, as if they'd simply invited her to a party she had no interest in attending.

The glinting scythes that grew down from what used to be her arms were somewhat less apologetic. She strode forward, slowly accelerating into a run as those blades spun and cleaved, one flinging out to dig into a drone and drag it closer for the final kill as the other swept sideways and through another pair, one heavily-clawed, multi-jointed leg sweeping out to grab and pin a fourth as it attempted an off-balance and weakened response to the sudden aggression.

"I do not believe I am interested in dying for anything this place stands for," she added, a fluid-dripping, drone-mauling blender of scythes, claws, and an oddly artful economy of motion that seemed to be keeping to a drumbeat nobody else could hear - a dance of mercury and practiced, surgical carnage. "I do believe I would die to stop it, but I do not think that will be necessary today."

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"And may the gods of shadow give me a quick and merciful oblivion and not cast me into the ever-devouring maw of the Ebon-" Tarva opened an eye, then another, as she took in the scene of carnage around her. The drones were smashed to rubble, foul organic and mechanical fluids pooling together unwholesomely on the ground. "We are...alive!" She sounded truly, genuinely surprised. "We..." She blinked a few times, then adjusted her black dress, her shaky black aura reasserting itself as she seemed to grow in confidence again. "Well, this is only a few short steps from the power chamber!" 

 

"I can overload the chamber!" declared Bluebird from Eve's grasp. "Blast this place back to the very pits of Hell that spawned it, eh?"

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"Do it, Bluebird," Eve said, "Just tell me what to do."

Her French accented soprano was calm and commanding, but to Eve's ears it sounded false. Looking over at Kimber, Indira and Tarva, Eve smiled a reassuring smile--with maybe a hint of recklessness--before moving to get Bluebird into position. But the telepath's hands were slightly damp, her heart thudded in her chest, and she silently cursed herself for leaping in without considering the consequences.

After facing Omega, there was little that fazed the young Frenchwoman and she thought nothing would ever frighten her again. But now she knew that her fearlessness was a lie, that there were still things out there that scared her, and that she can't do everything on her own.

"We're already here longer than we wanted to be, let's finish what we started and head home."

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They fought their way through another cadre of Omegadrones before they reached the power core of the station. It was a long, pulsating thing that stretched high above their heads and far beneath their feet in the vast cathedral of energy that was its stronghold, a room large enough to hold a significant portion of Dutemps Castle. There were no signs yet of further security inside the station, either an artifact of Terminus arrogance or simply the vast size of the structure. Or both!

 

Once again Eve fit Bluebird into place, this time near a control station covered in unreadable alien symbols (Tarva's expertise did not extend to matters of science, as she declared in a booming voice before turning to take up a guard position near the door - she had rallied nicely thanks to help from the heroes). The Furion intelligence sunk into the panel and energy began playing over it before it spoke in a voice rather tentative for a war companion of the most martial race in Creation. 

 

"There...there's somebody in here. Do you want to talk to her?"

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Eve blinked, shooting a questioning look over at her companions, before looking back at the Furion machine intelligence. The inquiry had caught the telepath off guard, but she quickly came to decision, nodding at Bluebird. Though time was, as they say, of the essence there was something to Bluebird's tone that gave the telepath pause.

"Sure," Blue Fox answered, an uncomfortable feeling forming between her shoulder blades, as she remembered what the station's outward appearance. She gave her head a slight shake, and forced herself to stop worrying about possibilities that might not even be true. This was still a station of the Terminus--an enemy--and it had to be denied to them.

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And then another voice spoke, one that filled the chamber despite having the tonality of a whisper. 

Mechanical, obviously synthesized, it came from the heart of the power core itself - which flashed in crimson time with the words as they echoed through the power chamber. It had been feminine, once. 

 

"Are you here to kill me?

 

Despite the question, there was no fear in that voice - only cold, emotionless inquiry. 

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The room erupted in sound as that same voice rang out in a deafening chorus from multiple speakers in multiple locations, scattered through the room. 

"Good." 

 

"Yes, good." 

 

"Good good good good good

 

"Yes! Finally!

 

"Hahahahaha!

"Hurry!"

 

"<Inducing core breach, warriors,>" said Bluebird in sudden, fluent Kinigosi. "<How long of a delay do you need>?" 

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Wraith hunched in thought, mind racing as she turned her head back the way they'd come and tried to calculate their path to here. "....we may require a new transport, and may need a faster way to get there. A place such as this must have ships - Bluebird, are they closer to us than the one we came in with, by the eyes? And you," she added, turning to Tarva.

"I am likely the fastest person here," she noted - not bragging, just her own assessment. Even as she talked, one of her knees twitched, reversing as if to reform into something to match the conversation at hand. "If we require a fast exit, I can carry us, and perhaps protect others hazards for very, very short times." She didn't seem to like the prospect of that option much. "...but I cannot touch Ghost Girl. Is it within your power to allow me to carry her as well?"

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Tarva had fallen silent, deathly silent, when the station began speaking to them - obviously terrified of whatever entity lay within its storage space, cowering in fear with her hands folded into fists at her side and eyes wide, looking around frantically. When Wraith turned to her, she said in a quiet whisper, looking around for some imminent retaliation. "I have given flesh, and sensation, to the living dead before. It...can be done. It would feel like a living body, and last until your...until it is dispelled.." She looked at Ghost Girl, obviously asking permission, two patches of pale color marring the obsidian aura clinging to her white flesh. 

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As the voice shouted over the speakers, Ghost Girl covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide. "Oh! Oh! It's a real lady and...!" The phantom balled up her fists at her shoulders with her arms crossed across herself and swallowed, her immaterial throat feeling thick regardless of its actual mass. "I don't like this place. I don't like it at all. Just this one time I think we need to use fire, lots and lots until nothing's left. It's just too terrible otherwise."
 
Shaking very slightly as she set her jaw resolutely, she nodded to the sorceress. "Do whatever you need to do, Tarva. You've helped us so far, I'll trust you." Using dark magic to get a temporary body sounded like the sort of thing that had some pretty steep downsides based on everything Daniel Storm had taught her but the alternatives seemed a whole lot worse.

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Tarva stared at Kimber for a moment, as if judging her, black shadows coiling around her like so many snakes. "Now! Taste the essence of the shadow, pure one, and know the life-in-darkness!!"

 

And with that, she was true to her word in a very real and meaningful sense. She reached out with her shadow-wrapped arms and embraced Kimber, mashing a sudden kiss against her lips. Kimber felt a sensation like oil being forced against her skin, then suddenly permeating it, filling her with a solid, shadowy essence that interacted with her ghostly flesh like water poured into a balloon.

 

When Tarva released her, Kimber could feel the ground beneath her feet, sticky against the deck, the breeze in her hair, the thrum of the station's power core overloading as Bluebird began the core overload with a quiet countdown. The air, when she inhaled, tasted of petroleum. She felt cold, and her skin beneath her fingers was oily and slick to the touch. 

 

"The nearest habitable ship is docked to the primary hull, one thousand meters down the corridor and forward," commented Bluebird, its robotic voice heedless of the emotions of the moment. "It is slow and ungainly, but I will be able to activate its extradimensional systems."

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Whatever Kimber had been expecting Tarva to do that certainly hadn't been it! The poltergeist's back and shoulders went rigid with shock as the sorceress was abruptly in her personal space, physically pressed against her. The slick, sloshing feeling of the shadow magics forcing itself into her immaterial form was perverse in a way that had a dim voice in the back of her head searching momentarily for the word 'nauseous', a sensation she normally had little need to describe. Part of her, though, was still a young woman who couldn't recall ever having been kissed and who had gone without real human contact for a very, very long time and to her immediate and profound embarrassment she realized that she had reflexively parted her lips slightly.
 
As soon as Tarva's grip loosened Ghost Girl jerked away, taking a few shaky steps backward, having trouble finding her balance on legs formed of slick, black shadows. She tried to articulate something about needing to hurry on their way but the words came out as a surprised, "Um! Uh!" Despite the uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling of an unpleasant chill throughout her temporary body she was still left to wonder how obvious it was that she was blushing furiously.

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Wraith glanced between Kimber and Tarva for a beat, eyes uneven in an approximation of a mildly disgusted raised eyebrow (which was, really, no small feat for a being with no eyebrows) - it was only a moment, though, before she remembered their surroundings and their situation.

"...yes. We are leaving," she announced. It wasn't, apparently, an optional statement; already her form was shifting, dropping her to the ground on all fours. And what a four they were: lean, powerful, and multi-jointed, with heavy claws and what seemed to be powerful muscles that didn't quite connect to all parts of the leg, leaving gaps and an oddly skinless appearance.

She gave Eve just long enough to grab Bluebird before sprouting three long, thick tails with grasping hands at the ends, each snagging a passenger (some more gently than others) as she oriented toward the corridor that led to freedom. Hopefully. "I am sorry for the whiplash," she apologized, and then there was a sound of metal on metal as she took off like a bullet, dragging friends and villain alike behind her. "I will attempt to control my speed to keep you from banging into things. I apologize in advance for bruises, too."

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They careened madly through the halls of the giant murder-palace, the maniacal laughter of its central intelligence echoing in their ears as they smashed their way through one last set of double doors and into a spaceship! Fast as lightning, Bluebird was smashed home into the wall, quickly absorbing into the walls of what looked to be a trim little yacht by the standards of the Terminus. "Quickly, ma petites, let us fly! Strap yourselves in, those of you who can be strapped! To the Silver Tree!

 

As they did so, lights flashing in frantic patterns all over the small vessel (no bigger than a Terran school bus), they could see the vast bulk of the gigantic station on one side, looming impossibly big. Were they really going to be at ground zero of its destruction? The same instant they were all secured, the engines of their craft roared to life, pushing the yacht free from the station even as alarms frantically sounded inside their stolen vessel. Looking around revealed they were in some kind of transport craft, its decadent, almost barbaric decor illustrating an idealized Shadivan Steelgrave in the company of lovely beings from all over the multiverse. 

 

As drones spilled from the station they'd left behind, it was clear they were cutting it close - an instant before the first explosions began to rock the hellish place they'd left behind. They'd done it! 

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