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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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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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