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GM

 

Mr. Strix moved quickly through the building. Even with the fire behind him gone, the sound of sirens were sounding in the distance. It would probably only be a matter of time until they would reach the now no longer burning building, if they could get through the riot, at least. Racing to the room that had been their target, he found a closed door. Outside the door, the walls, floor and ceiling were covered in residue of ink. Dark stains at first, like something had been dragged through it, growing almost completely black near the door. The door itself appeared fairly mundane. He could hear multiple voices on the other side of the door, all chanting in the same monotone. Would he enter, or wait for Doctor Thorne? 

 

The fire was gone. The ink was no more. the mortal that was Lady Horus had succeeded. Ronin, Doctor Thorne, Mr. Strix and Wadjet would all know it almost immediately, as the heat disappeared along with the flames. The guards remained unconscious, and they would have to decide their next course of action, whether it was to support Mr. Strix above, get the guards out as Mr. Strix had suggested, or do something else. Ronin now held the glass of ink in his hands. He could see it moving inside, swirling, pushing against its prison.

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Ronin

 

"Freaky" said Ronin, eyeing the glass of ink. He stuffed it in his trenchcoat. 

 

"It ain't gonna be long before the sirens get here. And probably blame us for arson. That ain't cool"

 

No indeed. Arson was not cool. In many ways. 

 

"They will certainly blame me for arson" he added, heatedly. Damn, he didn't like being an outlaw. But this was Bedlam, and this was what he had to do. "So whatever we got to do, we got to do it fast"

 

He looked upwards. He pointed upwards with the street special. "And I'm guessing what we got to do is on the top floor. Ding ding! We don't need to get the guards out ouf a building if it ain't burnin. I'm guessin they aren't crooked enough to worry too much about slingin' their ass in the slammer"

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The cloud of mist that was Mister Strix floated in front of the door for a few moments, raking the entire outline of the door with his gaze.

Sealed shut. No way to do this quietly. Really have lost the element of surprise.

The cloud solidified back into the form of the man in white.

No choice but to do it loud.

Whoever's waiting on the other side will come at the first person they see with everything they have. Better that person be me than anyone else.

His veins bulged and blackened as he mentally forced his magical blood down into his legs, filling them with even more unholy vigor. The blood seeped into his leg muscles and then boiled away.

Then he surged forward with brutal kick, hoping to knock the door off its hinges, or, at least, break it in half.

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GM

 

Ronin

As he watched, he could see the ink moving about in the container. It struggled, it tried to escape, and yet, it was trapped. Still, he could feel it moving against the container inside his coat.

 

By the room

With one brutal kick, Mister Strix splintered the wooden door, sending the remains falling into the room, while most of the outer frame was still held in place by the black substance. Everything inside the room was black, covered by the same hardened substance. Ink, most likely. Three grey robed persons stood in the center of the room. Strix had time to see them turning away from their initial position, turned against each other, each reading from a heavy book laid out on a round table before them. 

 

Now they turned to face Mr. Strix. Though their bodies might be covered by the robes he could see tattoos moving around on their faces.

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Ronin

 

"Its alive, dang it!" muttered Ronin as he stuff the container of ink in his trenchcoat. And, yes dang it, it did feel awful. He felt the thing crawl up and down his spine. 

 

Still, he tried to push into a dark and invisible place in his brain. 

 

The Street Special in his hand, he took a deep breath and started tearing up the stairs, putting his cardio system to good work, and ready to feel the sweat on his brow and the lactic acid in his quadriceps. 

 

And ready to fight when he got to the top of the stairs!

 

And hoping he didn't fall out of a window en route!

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  • 2 weeks later...

Lady Horus 

 

Tick. Lady Horus moved through the building like lightning, all too aware of the damage done by fire, all too aware of the super-battle that was about to break out inside the factory. And all too aware of other things. She grabbed beaten-down security guards and pulled them out of the building, all too aware of Clock Queen's smirk as she smashed her way through broken museum glass, the guests at the grand opening gala fleeing in terror as she laughed. She yanked a few cowering workers outside and away from danger, all too aware of the way the Centurion's voice deepened when he was really angry, like shouting at you about making your son your number one sidekick. And she grabbed a few guys she was pretty sure were low-level cultists and dragged them away from the scene, all too aware of one fact she knew she couldn't outrun. When you got right down to it, she'd probably do all those things again. 

 

Because that was who she was. When she was done, she ran for the upstairs. 

 

Wadjet 

Esperanza had belatedly remembered the melee between the striking workers and the police, and so had still been taking shelter outside when the fire inside the building had abruptly gone out. She'd considered her options, sniped a police officer in the back with a paintball that blew up hard enough to knock him into the ground, then headed back into the building with a heart cold as long-abandoned ink. She had a job to do in there, and she found it much easier to do that job numb. When you feel like you can't do it, stop feeling. 

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GM

 

One cultist, who appeared to be slim even covered in robes, raised his hands and chanted. "Rise from the black, protect me!" His voice and tone was melodramatic, even as it sounded almost trembling, but it had an affect. By his command, four humanoid forms rose from the ink near the door, blocking Mr. Strix from entering, yet moving to leave a path as the second of the cultists charged. A rather large fellow, easily standing 6 feet and 6 inches tall, it seemed odd that his robe could even hide his body. Unlike his fellow, the second cultist was completely silent as he ran at Mr. Strix, swinging a rather large arm for his head.

 

The punch passed right by Mr. Strix, however, flying past his head. While the second cultist seemed to have a certain strength, he did not appear to be fast enough to deliver a hit.

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Mister Strix took half a step back and raised his fists, glancing back and forth between the ink-monsters, bracing himself for their assault. But then he felt a tug behind his eyes. He allowed himself a slight smirk when he realized it was similar to the sensation mortals felt when they resisted his mesmerism.

 

It's a trick.

 

Shifting his attention to focus exclusively on the robed hulk hurling fists at him, Mister Strix moved almost too fast for human eyes to see, appearing as little more than a white streak.

 

Almost feels like he's moving underwater...almost feels like cheating...

 

The man in white applied that same superhuman speed that had served him so well on defense to offense. But while he was faster than the cultist, his inept flailing proved that he wasn't any more skilled. Strix launched a dozen blows in the time it would've taken a human to attempt one, and his fists smashed chunks of the wall lining the doorway into powder, but not a single strike connected with his target.

 

...Almost.

 

Edited by Grumblefloof
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GM

 

The last cultist made his move, his robes dropping to the floor around him as what had been a man moments before became shadow and he rushed forward, right through his fellow cultist and Mr. Strix. Strix felt nothing at the contact, but the large cultist's breath became visible.

 

Turning around once he was behind Strix, the cultist reached out for him, only to miss as Strix moved and dodged around the larger cultist.

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Liam Conner

For something so impressive it wasn't overly flashy, where once Rosa stood now stood Liam, for most people they wouldn't even know something was amiss. With so reluctance the pair had reach a consensus that for the moment force of arms was needed over magical skills.

 

Whilst Liam was trained in several different forms of combat, sometimes the basics worked best so he went for a simple punch. Once they knew exactly what they could do he might consider something more fancy.

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GM

 

Sometimes, the simple might be the best choice. The thing that you would go for before trying the more complicated. But this time, it did not appear to be the ideal choice in any way, as Liam's hand passed straight through the shadow cultist, almost as if he wasn't there at all. And yet, he felt a chill in his hand as it passed through the cultist. Something was certainly there. But not something that could be brought down with a simple punch, it seemed.

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Ronin

 

"Heads up, sunshine. Time to eat lead!"

 

It wasn't the best line Ronin had cracked out, but he fixed one of the Cultists with an evil stare, and showed no trace of anything but utter confidence. Plus, he had a gun. 

 

Ok, so it wasn't going to splatter the Cultists brains over the side of the wall (if this cultist even had any brains) as he had his mercy switch on the Street Special, but he wasn't going to let on about that, was he?

 

Instead, in one smooth flick, he took a side step, aimed and fired. And it was a good shot, too. The Iron Fist flew from the smoking barrel and was ready to hit hard. Enough to give a grown man a headache, but keep his brains in one piece. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

There was no sign of Lady Horus's imminent arrival, not even to those in the group with particularly keen senses. Just, perhaps, the faint sensation of a wind - and then the rounded ends of two glowing ankhs came together to smash him on either side of the head! The blow seemed to act like a combined concussion and electric shock, making the cultist howl and flare brilliant gold before dropping to the ground at the feet of the Sunhawk. She glowed with a brilliant solar light that contrasted sharply with their shadowy foes and shadowy circumstances, and as she raised her ankhs again she cried in a voice that blazed like the fiery rays of dawn against eternal night, "Lo! The Sunhawk cometh! Thou wilt learn the price for your madness!" Anna had not forgotten the terror of thinking that she had just had a stroke and was about to die, old and forgotten, in a Bedlam City back alley. She was going to break these sons of bitches' jaws. 

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Wadjet didn't speak - she stepped around from behind a corner and took a snapshot at the big one fighting the vampire man. It was a glancing hit, but no less effective for that, the ball exploding with a low concussion that sent the man staggering. She smiled inside her mask, reloaded, and stepped back into cover. Some days the job wasn't so bad after all.

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GM

 

The large cultist was hit, his head reeling back from Ronin's shot, but with little effect beyond that. He was made of sterner stuff, it seemed. With the shadowy cultist now on the ground, his shape flickering and twisting about, but otherwise motionless, it the large one prepared to strike at Mr. Strix again, only to be stopped dead in his track when the ball fired by Wadjet exploded right next to his face. With a groan, he stumbled into the door frame, though he still blocked the entrance.

 

The last cultist glared at Lady Horus. She chanted something in a strange tongue, and the men of ink that had surrounded Strix disappeared. And yet... nothing seemed to happen. Whatever she had tried, it had obviously failed.

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Too many people out here, tied up with him. Not enough in there, with her.

 

The man in white evaporated into a patch of man-sized fog, which then flew through the doorway, passing over the hulking brute standing in his way. The man felt a wet chill as the cloud rolled over him. The fog patch surged across the room, enveloping the brute's smaller companion. The mist surrounding her condensed back into the form of a man, standing behind the cultist with his right arm wrapped around her, pressing her biceps inward against her torso while his left hand clamped down over her mouth and pulled her head slightly to the side. Even through both her robes and his costume, the man's body felt like touching a bare hand to a marble statue on a cold winter morning. His inhumanly strong grip also yielded little more than that same marble statue would have. He stared at the sliver of her neck he could see peeking out from beneath her hood. His mouth closed into an angry sneer, but behind his lips his fangs slipped free.

 

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Liam Conner

It was frustrating fighting alongside supers sometime, give Liam a good old fashioned fist fight any day. And there was Rosa inside trying to analyse and understand everything that was going on so far. Still he was more or indestructible and helpfully there was someone in front of him that he could hit.

 

The guy wasn’t that much bigger than him, though obviously, he was relatively tough, so he didn’t need to do anything to fancy just going for a straight forward punch to the guy.

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Ronin

 

Ronin clicked another bolt into the Street Special, and flicked one of the dials on the weapon. 

 

The big guy was big. And tough. Which just meant that Ronin needed to redouble his efforts. He had gone soft so far. Well, that was his style - he didn't fling steel bolts around and split heads as a routine. The Street Special was designed to be non lethal - he had his fill of shooting guns over in Afghanistan. 

 

But he had to take it up a notch. 

 

He stayed icy cool, even under the pressure. Gotta stay frosty, even when I don't know what the Hell is goin' on. In fact, even more important to stay frosty!

 

Slick and fast, he aimed the Street Special, closing one eye, staring down the iron sights. Liam was in the way, but...

 

TWANG!

 

He took the shot anyway!

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GM

 

The big man took the hit from Liam head one, groaning in pain, but otherwise not seeming all that bothered. He seemed like he was about to say something, if he even could, or at least like he was about to do something. With a loud twang, Ronin took his shot, which hit the large cultist in the left shoulder, passing right by Liam's head. Another grunt of pain and discomfort as the cultist took a single step back, trying to gather his wits.

 

Things were obviously not going well for either him or his companions, and he seemed to be starting to realize it.

Edited by RocketLord
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Lady Horus hesitated - and then boomed "Razzle-dazzle!", the word sounding strange in her operatic tone and distinct Received Pronunciation accent. The word provoked a curse inside Wadjet's helmet, a moment before Esperanza broke from cover and charged the big man at the door. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled a butterfly knife from her sleeve and stabbed the cultist in the belly, a strike that skidded off something without doing any appreciable damage. The big man seemed to take in his new prey - 

 

Lady Horus was stepping up behind Dr. Thorne. "Hold thy head," she commented as she put her hand on the back of Thorne's head. "We move!" And then suddenly they both were moving, a golden streak that vanished from sight as it whizzed past Wadjet and the big man at the door, straight inside the room that he was guarding. Once inside, Horus stopped to deposit Thorne, then brought her ankh together on the back of his head again with an audible thunk. 

 

"Idiot," sneered Wadjet as she slipped her knife back into her sleeve. 

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GM

 

While the brute remained in the doorway, blocking any further entrance, the other cultist struggled and pushed, and finally managed to free herself from Mr. Strix's grasp. She didn't have much space to move, and Mr. Strix had already shown that he was capable of crossing the entire room in a single bound, so where would she go? No doors, no windows. And Lady Horus and Liam had appeared in the room as well. 

 

With a loud yell in some strange language, sounding almost like a garbled mixture of English, German and French, she retreated towards the corner of the room opposite of Lady Horus and Liam.

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Just as the hooded woman had predicted, Strix's inhumanly powerful legs launched him into the air toward her and closed the distance between them between the blinks of an eye. He grabbed her throat and roughly shoved her up against a wall. He couldn't see her neck under her robes, but he lost himself for a moment in imagining what her blood might taste like. That moment was all she needed to slip free from his grasp once again.

 

They both clearly have training in hand-to-hand combat, more than you.

No mere civilians. But still, mere mortals.

Yet with all your strength and all your speed, you can barely lay a hand on them.

Can't focus.

Can't stop thinking about the fire and the crosses and the light and the pain and the fear and the thirst and the blood.

Pathetic.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Liam Conner

After several years of being around, and part of, Rosa he was use to going rapidly from one location to another. In fact he’d become an expert of quickly working out the situation.

 

With a quick scan he picked out a perfect, and helpfully, nearby target before launching himself towards the cultist to try and give the man a solid punch. It wasn’t the most tactically of plan, but hopefully it would work in these circumstances.

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GM

 

The punch was solid, connecting directly with the back of the large cultist's head. He made a weird sound, a mix between a gasp and a croak, and seemed to stumble, despite doing his best to still block the doorway, even as he raised hand to catch doorframe to support his weight. No matter how strong he was, it seemed that he had his limits, and the repeated hits were taking their toll.

 

The woman escaped Strix's grasp once more, a wicked smile starting to play over her lips, even as her companions began to fall.

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Ronin

 

"Now this is war" grunted Ronin, sliding another customised shell into the Street Special. He fixed the cultist blocking the door with a grim look. 

 

He didn't like doorways being blocked. That wasn't good strategy. Fluid, mobile, tactical. That was how things were meant to be. But in War, everything usually went to hell and chaos. 

 

He quickly brought up the Street Special and gave a slow and acurate blast into the cultist, unloading the specialist armour-penetrating splinters of lead...

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