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Earth Victoriana: The Brit Machine (IC) (GM)


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"This is my love!"

So much for emotional appeals; looks like it's time to resort to violence!

Grim suddenly dropped out of sight and quickly crossed the intervening space to take out the nearest bodyguard, suddenly reappearing as her wicked claws struck home. The sight of an otherwise prim Victorian lady screaming as she ripped into a Cossack was rather striking.

"Yeaarh!"

In a flash, she moved through the pack of them like a hot knife through butter, leaving them bloodied and unconscious as she stood panting, her breath an angry cloud about her face as tiny drops of crimson fell from her fingertips.

<"You might want to think about running,"> she said in perfect Russian, an evil grin upon her face.

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The heat was on, literally. Edge made sure of that, and Grim, well she certianly made sure rather wary about getting on her bad side. But there was still a problem and it was in the form of a little glass vial. Destroying it was an option, but it might of been still important to fixing this mess. Which meant, two things, either she'd break cover or she needed a distraction.

Backing up a few feet as she took off her gloves to feel the warmth and she managed to find herself in front of a loan planter with flowers that had already long died from the sudden chill. But she noticed something else, a light smell on the flower bed. Taking a hand to feel she felt the dry mulch under her hand before glancing around, this could certianly work. Turning to Miss Wells she started to rumage through her purse until she found a folded over piece of cardboard she picked up from a casino,

"I suggest you give the area a good wide bearth because things are about to get a bit hotter."

Pulling out a couple of matches she lit several before tossing them into the stand alone flower planter and started to move as the fire gained hold and started to make a thick could of smoke.

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The young Russian prince looked on with surprise and respect as Grim tore her way through his guards.

"Those men would die a thousand deaths for their country! and so would I!" he proclaimed, taking careful aim with his large iron pistol. With a burst of steam, and flash of powder, it fired. The aim was true, and it struck Grim hard.

Discarding the steaming pistol, he reached to his ceremonial belt and unsheathed his sabre. "You will not find me such an easy foe! I am the finest blade in all Russia!" he boasted.

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GM

"It is indeed a very impressive blade, colonial fool!" laughed the young tsar, who was even faster than Cannonade, and spun out of the man's powerful swings. His boast of swordsmanship had clearly not been an idle one.

His half dead father seemed barely aware of the commotion surrounding him, and only paused for his eyelids to flutter briefly and for a groan to emit from his pale lips. The vial of freezonium in his chest glowed a bright blue, and the temperature around him dropped - an icy white frost belched forth and hung in the air, killing all the plant life that still remained.

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"Those men would die a thousand deaths for their country! and so would I!" he proclaimed, taking careful aim with his large iron pistol. With a burst of steam, and flash of powder, it fired. The aim was true, and it struck Grim hard.

Luckily for the young shapeshifer, the annoying Russian guy totally telegraphed his shot with his stupid speech, so when the muzzle flashed, she was able to form a small hole about three inches in diameter in her upper chest, allowing the bullet to pass harmlessly right through her body! It did, however, rip convincingly through her clothing, and she conjured up enough blood to sell the hit; the fae girl dropped to the ground like a sack of moldy potatoes, an apparent casualty.

In a second I'll call out so only our guys can hear me, but for now, I want the shock the Russkies see on their faces to be real.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Ach, you-" Edge staggered before the onslaught of cold, and suddenly none of this was funny anymore. They were fighting the ghosts of dead men on an alien world on behalf of an empire that he held no loyalty to, and somehow it did nothing but make him angry. "Listen to me," he said with sudden fierceness. "You're nothing but an old-timey supervillain with stupid old technology and stupid old-fashioned powers, and we're some of the baddest people in Freedom City! You want your father back? Here! Here's your father back!" And with that, a remarkable thing happened: a black curl of shimmering dots formed over Mark's hands, and with a gesture he hurled them at Rasputin. The dots seemed to soak into the cyborg's metallic parts, blood and flesh flowing over steel and brass, the freezonium in his chest gradually being squeezed out by the replacement of steel and wire with flesh and bone. "If you want to be heartless, by God I'll shove a heart down your throat!"

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The young tsar looked on, aghast at the transformation. "Father! Nooooo! what have you done! what have you done!"

The raw Freezonium, a horrible blue purple crystal in this dimension, now protruded directly out of the old man's chest, freezing his flesh more by the second. It was starting to creep out, as if the body wanted to expel the unnatural thing from its host. With iron determination, self loathing and a scream of pain, the ancient old man grasped onto it with both hands, which also started searing with freezing pain.

"No" he croaked. "Even if it kills me! I will have my revenge!" every orifice glowed with a blue light, his pale flesh crumbling away as he spoke.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Father! Nooooo! what have you done! what have you done!"

From her position lying on the floor playing possum, Grim wasn't able to see exactly what Edge had done, but judging from the young tsar's reaction, it had been horrifically effective. The Russians had made the mistake of pushing the normally cheerful hero too far, and now they were paying dearly for that mistake.

"No" he croaked. "Even if it kills me! I will have my revenge!"

Better act now!

In a flash, the apperently resurrected shapeshifter flipped up to her feet, quickly waved to her fellow Freedonians to show she was alright, and then in one swift action conjured up a wicked-looking knife and hurled it right at Rasputin!

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The old man was a sitting duck. He was barely able to move, and writhing in pain from the raw freezonium in his chest. Grim could hardly have missed.

His eyes rolled in further agony as his flesh suffered the further torment of Grim's assault. His fists clenched around his chest but his heart did not give out yet.

Although perhaps the defiance in his eyes dimmed a little. Perhaps one could see a longing for rest rather than the endless clinging to life.

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With all the theatrics, attacks, and smoke no one noticed the slight woman bundled in her coat stalking out through the smoke to the old man in pain. It was rather sad to look at, but she shifted her focus from him to the freeziom and it didn't take but a few seconds to wrestle it from his weakening grip. There was no way she was simply just going to let it sink into his corpse after all the time they'd spent finding it again after handing it over to Ms. Wells in the first place. Plus she was probably doing him a favor, because while survival might not be likely, it would be darn near impossible if he kept his clutches on this crystalized ice bomb. Though her holding the ice bomb instead was not exactly pleasant, she thanked the gods that she had her gloves as she moved back into the smoke and back towards Ms. Wells to have the freeziom properly contained before her fingers started to lose there feeling.

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"Noooo!" Screamed the Young Tsar at the thieving hands of Carrie, before running over to his dying father.

"Father!" he sobbed, dropping his sword and wailing. "I did it all for you! to revenge ourselves on the treacherous British! for mother Russia! and now..."

He glared at the heroes "these... vile... and uncouth...and traitorous...poisonous!...soldiers of fortune. They have ruined us! RUINED US!"

He collapsed sobbing on his fathers chest, as the man closed his eyes and breathed his last, muttering a few half heard Russian words in his ear.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Carrie looked over at the dead Russian and his son before looking back at Cannonade and letting out a deep sigh,

"Edge already pretty much resurrected the dude once. He choose hold onto the freezium even when it was killing him. If he can be brought back, it won't save either of them. Things aren't really quite that simple after all."

Taking another breath she looked at the Freezium again, which was in their world the equivilant of about two dollars worth of ice. It was strange to think the impact something so simple on their plane had on another.

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Cannonade watched the mourning, at a loss for words. "What the hell do we do here?" he muttered to the others. "I mean, I know the guy's a world-freezing jackass, but... well, we can't just let this happen, right? Can we?"

Grim felt a swirling mixture of emotions boiling in her chest; the giddy thrill of victory, a gnawing shame and embarrassment at witnessing a son mourning the death of his father, anger at the young man's misdirected rage. Finally she took a deep breath and strode up to the Russian aristocrat, not quite sure what she wanted to say.

"Look, I know the Brits aren't perfect; the whole colonial thing screwed up a lot of people's lives, but trying to plunge a whole country into an endless winter of death is just...not the answer, man. You think it's gonna make you feel better, but it's not, and what you did to your father...you have to let him go. Turning a beloved parent into a weapon of mass destruction, prolonging his life just to get revenge; is that the guy who raised you, that poor wretched thing in the chair? Is that the man who held your hand when you got scared?"

She shook her head, a sad queasiness rising in her guts.

"He's gone, dude, and even killing every single person in the British Empire is not gonna bring him back."

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"I...I...no." Unexpectedly, the happy-go-lucky teenager's voice broke. "No! No one else is going to lose their father because of me! No one else!" Energy pumping, he fired blast after blast into the transformed cyborg, shocks of blindingly powerful magical energy that infused themselves again and again into the cells of the fallen man. "We're superheroes, dammit!" he swore with ferocity, the air around him crackling with black, shimmering dots of power as if the ink of the universe itself were spilling from his fingers. "We're supposed to be able to save everybody!"

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GM

Broken, the young tsar collapsed to the ground.

"Its all over. All...over. My father was dying anyway. He possessed the fortitude of fourty men, and lasted as long as he could. I... I used him. Only he could master the freezonium. "

He let out a long sigh. "My country... it is bloody and harsh. And the old ways are under threat from the new communists. The traitor Stalin leads his peasants against our noble aristocracy. Anarchy shall reign!"

He gazed around the remains of Kew Gardens. The cold air had warmed and, displaying remarkable resilience, some of the hardier plants had survived. Green was showing.

"The British stand by and do nothing. They betrayed the Cossacks. Bah! Their empire will fall one day too! But now, I will return to Russia and try to maintain some order there."

He stood up with slumped shoulders.

"Allow me to go and fight for mother Russia. If you will not come to our aide, at least do not stand in my way..."

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Cannonade paused. Stalin was not any sort of hero, to say the least. The man was a tyrant, a mass murderer, and a dictator of the worst stripe, who preached equality while sitting on a throne of bones. But this guy just tried to turn the UK into Antarctica in the name of revenge, he thought. If we're not careful, we could encourage a monster either way...

He approached the young tsar. "I know this is gonna sound strange, coming from me," he said, "but your people need a hero. They don't need revenge, or world domination, or anything like that. They need someone who can lead them through the darkness. You say Stalin's a monster? Show them. Give them someone they can turn to, someone they can stand behind. Show your subjects that you care for them, that you won't offer them bread with one hand while holding chains in the other. The Russians need a leader now. Be that man, and honor your father that way."

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The Young Tsar looked up at Cannonade, listening carefully.

"Your words have wisdom in them. I am not... unaffected by them. But I find my heart hollow, black, and empty. And the people lay heavy in my heart, like a poison that now pumps through me and kills everything in my life..." he gazed at the shell of his father.

"They are, however, words to consider Sir. And consider them I shall. Tell me, what is your name, if I may have the honour?"

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"Well, Sir Joseph, I shall see if there is anything left to refill. But if there is, it is in mother Russia..."

He gazed at the ruins of the building, and the shell that was his father. With some care, he helped the dazed and confused cossacks, who were beginning to regain consciousness, back to their feet.

"Come soldiers, the game is up. Let us take my father back to the homeland and bury him. And then let us try to find some solace and peace in the land."

Ms. Wells came up to the heroes, holding the freezonium in an iron clasp. "Fascinating stuff. Should be all we need to reverse the cold snap!" she said excitedly. "As we came here, it must have fell backwards in time, and caused the whole crisis in the first place!"

"The empire cannot thank you enough, gentlemen! and ladies! you have saved the day! I'm sure there will be medals all around, and of course, a trip back to your own dimension with all the ginger beer you can carry!"

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Carrie watched the scene unfold with Joe and the fallen Russian, she really didn't have anything to say to the man. Whatever justification she had, it was far to tempting for her to just kick him while he was down for what he did. Plus it was good that he could be convinced of bringing some good out of this mess. Either way, she was far more interested in what Ms. Wells had to say,

"Wait, solid time loop aside, doesn't that mean that they were only able to obtain the means to create this mess in the first place is because you traveled to our realm to get the ice in the first place. Science aside, that has some rather major implications on your part causing this whole incident?"

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Ms. Wells paused slightly, and frowned. "Why yes, it does rather. Unfortunately. I seem to be wrapped up in the whole mess somewhat. What a bother. That's n-dimensional theory for you. I can assure you, however, madam, that my intentions were to save, not to harm, the empire. Unlike that scallywag over there" she nodded at the departing tsar.

Giving Carrie a wink. "And besides which, if those scientists at the Royal academy started to whisper about my involvement, then we wont see a woman in the academy for another century. It took them long enough to accept me, and I am hardly lacking in ability!"

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She thought about it for a second than shrugged her shoulders,

"True, it's really rather hard to predict such things if we're going into dimensional theory. It's rather fortunate in of itself that we arrived soon enough as to of stopped the the situation from going to critical mass."

Turning towards the freeziom she let out a sigh,

"With proper applications, that has a lot of potiential to do a lot of good, if you can make sure to keep it under lock and key."

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"Actually" said Ms. Wells "I was wondering if it would not simply be safer to return it to your dimension, where it will be inert. However, perhaps it is best used to try and revert the damage done to the climate here in the first instance. At a later date, I may post it to your home".

As she spoke, several British soldiers, dressed in red coats and armed with steam powered rifles entered the greenhouse. Already, the temperature was becoming more bearable. The leader of the army spent a few moments conversing with Ms. Wells, before turning to the heroes and giving a crisp salute.

"'Is Most Imperial Madgjesty, on be'half of the h'Empire does h'ereby salute you, and offer our thanks for the saving of the h'Empire!" he said, or rather, shouted, with a stiff gaze.

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