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Waves of deathly energy rolled off the avatar of of the final plague sapping strength and vitality with each burst of necromantic power.  Phalanx stood battered by the waves and pummeled by the entities assault but resolute, "You will be stopped."  he intoned fervently as he pressed in taking the attack to the creature once more keeping it's focus on him not his more fragile allies or the innocents in the city beyond.  Unleashing a mighty flurry of blow the paragon battered through the deadly aura his attack perhaps little more than distraction from the real battle that waged still in the hospital room above, but he wasn't about to give up.  Even as the necrotic power of this being drove im to his knees he resolutely stood once more bearing the brunt of the creatures fury, "We will not let you do this."  

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Nick saw Phalanx buckling under the waves of necrotic energy, which flared bright ultra-black to his death senses. And that's Centurion Junior, he thought. If I go in there, there's a good chance I'll just end up a stylish pile of bones. He was not one to quake in the presence of death -- he'd been around enough "Death"s to get used to it. But he wasn't the kind of person to go skinny dipping in the River Phlegethon, either. 

 

Plus. If there was one thing he was good at, it was telling some of those deaths when to step off.

 

He reached deep inside. It had been a while since he'd done this. Usually, he needed to be up close and personal with the injured person, getting a sense of just how death was seeping into them as life fled. But it was pretty damn obvious in this case, wasn't it? He reached out, forming a connection with Phalanx. He could feel Roman's death magic bleeding in... and knew just where to push back. Life flowed back into the hero, his wounds healing and his vigor returning.

 

Make it count, man.

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Paige put her hands in her pockets and studied the wizened shell of a man in front of her for a long few moments, the age in her eyes at odds with her youthful face in this form. "Why should you help us?" she repeated slowly. "Honestly, August, whether or not you stand to gain anything from it is immaterial at this point. The question is what is going to be left of you if you don't? Look at this!" She waved an arm at the room around them, the tattered photos, the dirt, the aging shrine. "Is this going to be your legacy? A criminal mastermind, the builder of an empire, and you're willing to go out a puppet for some jumped up mental virus that's parasitizing your brain? Freedom City is your city too, and don't try to say it isn't. If you really wanted it destroyed it would be gone, but it's your home too. You can't let this thing destroy everything you've worked for and make you a sick, cowardly man who died in the depths of his own weakness. You're a better villain than that." 

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Outside the walls of the 'room', things began to change. Looking outside, Paige could see that the ash was beginning to be replaced by snow. The storm outside hadn't abated, but it was growing greyer now and softening, as if the weather was in the process of shifting. Or maybe whatever fires were causing that ash were beginning to fade. "What am I remembered for?" he asked Paige. "A failed war. A fallen empire. I'm like a Caesar after the barbarians came, roaming through the ruins of what I built. But I can't roam anymore..." 

 

 

Behind the shelter of the hospital, Fast-Forward watched, cursing under his breath, as the Angel of Death's fiery chains tore and ripped at the flesh of his fellow heroes. He wanted to go out there, maybe more than he'd ever wanted to in a fight, but he knew with hard understanding that he wasn't fast enough to get through that murderous mesh of hell-blades. So instead he waited and bided his time, looking for an opportunity. 

 

His opportunity came a moment later - when the Angel of Death pulled those chains back into its hands then whipped them out at impossible speed towards the already-battered Phalanx. The creature was targeting the most powerful of them, which was at least keeping the others alive. Until it finishes with that guy! "You will die," hissed the Angel of Death, "and your city will die, and the One Below will reign sup-" And then it stopped, dead still, chains still digging into Phalanx's skin. It seemed to be fading a bit around the edges, shadow and ash flaking off its skin and disintegrating into nothingness, but more than that it seemed stopped cold. As if someone had put it on pause. 

 

"I got your ass!" yelled Fast-Forward, running away as fast as he could, even knowing he wouldn't survive another direct assault from the creature. "Get him, everybody, get him with everything you've got!" 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Ray didn't hesitate, not even to make a wise-crack or comment. Instead, he drew back his fist and focused every ounce of power that was his to call to his knuckles and aimed his blow right at the center of the creature's 'back'. The Enochian tattoos flared along his skin, brighter than the noon-day sun as the angel-in-human-shell connected with a sound more like a clarion bell than any thing like flesh hitting bone. He would swear later on that the body that was both home and prison split along its seams. Certainly the spot where his fist connected with the demon's spine smoked, blistering his knuckles as barehand striking a creature that hailed from antithetical zones was not the wisest move that Ray had made. 

 

No one was more surprised than the tattooed angel when that blow seemed to reverberate outward, reacting to the holy energy that Ray channeled through his very skin. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

To Renegade's surprise, his mighty blow against the false Angel of Death split not just the creature - but the sky itself, wide open! There was an enormous flash of light, brighter than the sun itself, and a moment later, the angels and the mortals were not alone. 

 

 

"Noo! Death awaited them all! It was prophesied!" Bright golden chains were wrapping themselves around the Angel of Death, binding first its skeletal arms to itself, then around its bony wings, wrapping it as tight as a drum. "Just as in the ancient days, when Egypt held the Chosen Ones in bondage!-

 

"Those are days long past, brother." Hey-zel, the Angel of Temperance, wielded the chain in his free hand, his mighty winds spread behind him. Other angels were there too, wrapping and binding the great beast, so Hey-zel took the opportunity to speak to the mortal heroes who he had so often fought alongside - and his uncle. 

 

"He will be taken to a place where he may be healed," said Hey-zel, looking up at the fallen angel with great pity, then at the other heroes. "We cannot undo his crimes in the mortal world, but we can cleanse the taint in his spiritual essence that pulled him so far from the path." 

 

"Hey wait a minute," said Fast-Forward, zipping up to join the group. "I thought the whole idea was that this guy isn't a real angel. What gives?" 

 

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," quoted Hey-zel. "And more Heavens than stars in your sky. His Heaven is a reflection of men torn apart by war and strife, for whom the Name of God was a curse and his angels...devils. But all crimes may be expiated. In time." 

 

-

 

Things were quieter for Paige, alone in the hospital room with August Roman, who had raised his hand to lay it on her arm. He was as old as her father should have been, or more, and as close to death now as she'd ever seen a dying man. He couldn't speak, not outside of the astral realm, but his eyes looked up at her with a burning intensity that spoke of an old man's final gratitude. He breathed slowly, shallowly, a moment before his last. 

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Phalanx fought back to his feet even as Nick Cimitiere pushed back the deathly energies that sapped his life force.   Resolute he stood before the Angel of Death and squared his shoulders every blow to him was a moment longer for the psychic or the necromancer to weaken the creature, the thing seemed to shrug off the groups mighties blows so he would buy them all the time he could.  "No mo..."  He was cut off as fast forward froze the angel in time and before he could even hope to act it was no longer needed as their own holy warrior unleashed his power to fell the creature.

 

With the sky rent open and an angelic host descending to take the villain it seemed the fight was at an end letting his hands drop to his side Phalanx looked out over the lot and the city then to the hospital behind as the last breath rattled in the throat of the one time King of Crime.  "So it's over."  he confirmed, "All of it?"  he asked looking from the Host above to Nick, Renegade and the others, "Is everyone alright?"

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Paige took Roman's hand and squeezed it, meeting his eyes steadily. "Well done, old man," she told him, augmenting her soft voice mentally so that he would hear it even if his hearing had gone. She waited with him, even as her mind sought out Richard, testing the feel of his emotions to make sure that things were all right outside. He was angry and confused, but triumphant as well and not particularly worried; things were going well enough. As Roman's last breath rattled away, Paige gently placed his hands over his chest and closed his eyes. Someone would come along and find him soon enough. 

 

She walked to the enormous hole in the wall of the room and looked out, a little surprised by the sight despite decades of metahuman experience. ~Everything okay down there?~ she queried Richard. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

The expression that flickered across Ray's features was one of stark longing. He let his hand drop to his side, the light of his power fading from his skin and leaving only his mortal form, decorated with the swirls and colors of his bright tattoos. "Hey, kid." He said simply to Hey-zel. "Nice entrance."

 

Ray shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocking back on his heels and avoiding eye contact with the other angels as they bound and contained the being that would have decimated the planet if given the opportunity to do so. He gave one loose-limbed shrug to Fast-Forward, "'Real angel' is a rather subjective concept. Really, 'angel' is a rather subjective concept. He's too powerful to really be 'destroyed' in any true sense. They'll see if they can redeem him, if they can't, he'll be contained." 

 

That was said with a shrug of apology towards Hey-zel. Unlike the younger angel, Ray took no one's redemption as an inevitability. "It won't happen overnight regardless," he said, with the dry tones of an immortal. 

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