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A Trail All Bent Askew [IC]


trollthumper

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Wisp held her hands behind her back, looking between Crow and the local heroes, "How far away is the Temple? And in what general direction? I'd just follow but it would be helpful in case I loose you guys on the way over."

"The Temple's just down the street," said Almsman, "corner of Boylston and Tremont. Right across from the Common. Just head back to City Hall, hang a left, and travel down Tremont until you get to the intersection with the Starbucks and the Boylston T stop."

She glanced at Cannonade and asked, "It didn't really come up in Tian or dealing with the Einherjar but, you have flight, super-speed, teleportation, or the like or do you need to pull a tandem teleport?"

"I've been where he's talking about," Cannonade said. "I should be able to leap there."

And once the group had made sure everyone would be able to get there, Cannonade did indeed take off with a mighty bound and land, as gracefully as he could, on the roof of the Boylston T stop. The "Temple" Almsman had described was clear - the Masonic Temple, right across the street from Emerson. Cannonade entered to find Crow, Wisp, and the others waiting in the lobby.

"Glad to see you could make it," said Silversmith. "Follow me."

She led the others into a small library, stacked high with tomes both historical and arcane. She ran her fingers along the shelf, lingering at one book. Almsman nodded to her, and she pulled it back -- and as she did, the shelves opened to reveal a secret passage.

"This kind of murder mystery stuff common at all Temples?" he asked.

"Not unless the Architect started a franchise," said Almsman as he led the group down the passage. At the end lay a large chamber, a library in and of itself ringed on all sides with aged tomes. Five individuals sat at the table, and Crow recognized four of them right off the bat. The kid in the studded leather jacket with the spiked hair-do was Howler, who patrolled Allston and Brighton. The Latin girl in the black body suit was Amplifier, who haunted the airwaves just as much as she haunted Cambridge. The Asian man with the helmet was Soundbreaker, who regularly patrolled the skies of Boston - usually at high velocity. The woman in the cloak was Dagger, who patrolled the back alleys of South Boston. The fifth individual, the man in the bomber jacket, he didn't quite recognize at first, but something seemed vaguely familiar.

"All right," said Almsman. "Looks like we're all here."

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The only person who picked up on it was likely Wisp, but upon entering the room and seeing the heroes, his childhood heroes-turned-colleagues, sitting around that table...Crow's brain pretty much shut down for a moment as he processed the sheer undiluted squee that was passing through his brainpan. Didn't take long for him to snap back, however, and he walked quietly in in Cannonade's shadow.

Howler. Only ran into him once, in the wake of catching a renegade fae who'd decided to have some fun at a nightclub. Howl had thought he'd accosted and beat the tar out of some innocent civilian, and had promptly returned the favor before the ethereal jerk had tried to take both of the heroes on at the same time. Bad idea. He'd tried to avoid Allston and Brighton after that...

Amplifier. Oh, that body suit...Morgan had a terrible crush on her way back in the day, since he spotted her from a rooftop while passing Cambridge. Never could work up the guts to try going around that area again, though. Ah, youth.

As for Soundbreaker, Dagger, and the fifth man, Crow had only heard of the first two by reputation (great ones, though!), and he couldn't quite place the last one. Odd familiar feeling, though - maybe he'd visited his dad before? He shook his head slightly, and greeted the group; not trusting his voice to say anything more than a quiet "Afternoon."

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Wisp followed the other Freedonians into The Temple. Sensing the shift in her boyfriend's body language she took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When he looked over she gave him a quick wink as they walked into the library. The heroes assembled, well she frankly didn't recognize any of them but being as she grew up several hundred miles away, she didn't expect they'd recognize the local heroes of Chicago.

No chairs were offered at the table so the snow-haired teleporter simply leaned against an unoccupied space on the wall, "Hey. How can we be of assistance?"

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"Well, first off," said Amplifier, "we should probably start with the recent past." She pressed a heretofore unseen button on the conference table, and an image flared to life via hologram - a college campus, scorched and littered with debris. Several buildings surrounding it looked like they'd had a wrecking ball taken to them. Crow recognized it easily, and Cannonade knew what it was from his brother's college brochures - Harvard Yard.

"This was a week ago. The Militia - one of our regular problems - was hired to attack Harvard. Fortunately, it was between sessions, so there was little collateral damage. When we interrogated them, we were told two things. One, that whoever hired them spoke through a proxy, and paid upfront in gold. Two, that they were specifically instructed to target certain buildings - the Widener Library, Emerson House - and the paths that ran through the Yard."

"Likewise," said Dagger, "Howler and I had to deal with Firebrand trying to burn the State House down. We took him down before he did any lasting damage, but it seemed like he was taking his sweet time burning up the courtyard."

"He have a reason for it?" asked Cannonade.

"Well, Firebrand's always been the kind of guy who gives anarchy a bad name," said Howler. "But he said someone had passed the idea along to him. But, surprise, he couldn't remember who."

"It was around this time that the Architect started putting things together," said Almsman. "She said she thought she had something, but then the call cut off. I flew over, and I found her in the study, comatose. I tried healing her, but I got nothing. Something is keeping her in there." He pressed another button on the table, calling up a series of documents. "This is what I found her working on." He flipped his hand through the floating images, and they moved like the pages of a book. A map of Boston from the 1630s, when the Harbor had yet to be excavated. A more modern map, with areas ringed in red. A treatise on geometric magic.

"All right, so, someone wants to redecorate. Maybe for magical reasons. But why?"

"I've been doing some digging myself," said the man in the bomber jacket. "I've been swimming up and down the coast, and I've been hearing whispers from the undines." Crow finally had a good idea who the man was - Fathom, the savage selkie. He just didn't recognize the man without a sea lion pelt and several pounds of blubber. "Tell me, any of you ever heard of a town named Innsmouth?"

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Crow's eyebrows fairly shot up into his hood at the mention of Innsmouth. Lovecraft mythos generally wasn't his thing (usually more of a mythological bent), but it was hard not to study literary history and mythology without some mention of the guy - not to mention pick up at least some knowledge (albeit usually only buzzwords like Cthulhu or Necronomicon - actually, didn't Kid C still have that book lying around somewhere?).

"Lovecraft novel named after and set in it. Set the bar for classic 'town with a dark secret' type stories. Cthulhu mythos, I think. Good bedtime reading."

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Wisp eyed Crow and his comment of stories of the Cthulhu being good bedtime reading. Then again, for her good bedtime reading involved lightsabers and planet destroying space ships so she couldn't really throw stones about unusual literary choices.

From her spot on the wall she spoke up, "Personally, I haven't really read much of the Lovecraftian line so I'm working in the dark. Any light you can she on the subject would be most appreciated."

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"Well, one of those towns really did have a dark secret." Fathom pressed another button, revealing a desolate beach that looked out on a pale section of the Atlantic. "What Lovecraft called 'Innsmouth' was really the town of Alewich, up in Essex Bay. The town was raided sometime after World War I, when fear of Communists and anarchists was everywhere. This isolated burg with a strange little esoteric faith earned a lot of attention from Uncle Sam. It started with US Marshals, and ended with submarine runs. Ever since then, the place has been a ghost town, held by the state under principles of eminent domain. There's always talk of some sort of project getting started on the land, but that usually gets buried after a few months. Just enough action to keep anyone from asking questions."

"So they busted the town," Cannonade said. "So who's back for revenge? The descendants, or their patrons?"

"They got most of the town, but they missed something big out at sea. Alewich was established five miles out from Y'ha-nthlei, a city run by the Deep Ones. A corrupted race, split off from the Atlanteans through interactions with races that fell under the sway of the Unspeakable One. The city serves as not only one of their major settlements, but a seat for Dagon, one of their major deities. Alewich itself was set up as a base for interactions between human cultists and the Deep Ones. And by 'interactions'... well, there was a certain fish-eyed look to the citizens."

Cannonade let the mental image fill his head, and then tried to kill it in its bed. "Yeesh. So they want revenge. But why wait 'til now?"

"See, that's the thing," Almsman said. "They've been waiting since long before then." He called back the images of the layout of Boston. "The first Architect was an accomplished Freemason and sorcerer who was among the charter members of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He knew that Y'ha-nthlei was lying off the course some miles up, and learned from some of the members of the local tribes that the 'water beasts' had to be driven off every so often. But the Architect realized he couldn't be everywhere at once, especially in a colony with plans to expand and grow. So from the very start, he worked on making Boston into one gigantic ward against the Deep Ones and their god."

It finally clicked for Cannonade. "All the buildings, all the streets... they're part of the ward?"

"That's how the Architect put it," said Soundbreaker. "Boston's always had a history of extensive building projects. They cut the top off of Beacon Hill to plug a pond and make Haymarket Square. All throughout the 19th century, they land soil into marshes, mud flats, and gaps in wharves in order to make new neighborhood. All that time, the Architect of the period was watching over the work, making sure the ward was rebuilt to incorporate the new land."

"And if it didn't?"

Silversmith cracked a bitter laugh. "Why do you think the Big Dig took so long?"

"Only now, the ward's starting to go to pieces," Fathom said. "The Deep Ones have finally decided to do some outside contracting. And with the Architect out of commission, there's no way to get it back up on a quick fix basis."

"Well, what about --"

Cannonade's inquiry was interrupted when the image floating over the table vanished, replaced with a blinking red light and a map of Boston. The light flared over a line running through the Boston Harbor. "Damnit," said Almsman. "That's the Ted Williams Tunnel. Runs through the Harbor. Either they've got Deep Six on retainer... or they're starting to get through."

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  • 2 weeks later...

Morgan looked at the line, raising an eyebrow. Then, he quite coolly cracked his knuckles, then his neck. The explanation they'd been giving had been about as effective as a slap upside the head, and the light over the table had only -added- emphasis to a situation that seemed to be deterioriating fast. Deep Ones, failing wards (he made a note to ask if he could have a look at it later; the Architect was sure as heck out of his league in a mojo sense, but any little bit might help here), villains going slightly off-kilter (or moreso than usual)...for a moment he pondered giving his dad a call, but decided against it; Patrick Crowe had been retired for a good few years, and he wasn't going to haul him out for something that the bulk of the Boston heroes could likely handle - heck, with Cannonade and Wisp along, that'd be pretty much overkill. Besides, Boston was his hometown too.

Still...he made a note to fire off some kinda magic status update en route to the tunnel. Just in case. Man, if I die, dad'll kill me.

"Ladies and gentlemen. It seems we have some uninvited houseguests. Very rude of them. Suggest a most vehement welcome."

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Wisp watched the display and listened carefully before replying in a overly accented tone, "So. We find them, we break them." To accent her point, she cracked her knuckles at nearly the same time as her boyfriend did.

Her voice returned to it's normal barely detectable accent as she asked, "I don't suppose you have some sort of rune on that coat for dealing with Lovecraftian horrors? Or other such abominations crawling out of the sea?"

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Morgan raised an eyebrow, then lifted up the edge of the coat for a moment to look it over. Heck if he knew if he -did- have a dedicated anti-Cthulhu rune, truth be told he was still figuring out which rune did what - the ones he used most often were simply the ones he'd decoded first. Wasn't like his mother had sent an instruction manual with it or anything...

Right, focus. Lovecraftian horrors. Abominations crawling out from the...sea? Water? There was that rune of fire, but that one tired him out like mad. Maybe see if he could find an electricity-based one? He tilted his head and pondered. Period end, he needed more info. But it didn't look like fate was going to deal that hand, looking at the tunnel...

"...Get back to you on that one, Wisp."

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"Shouldn't be too hard," said Almsman. "If we focus --"

His words were cut off by three more blips popping up on the map. "Looks like they thought about that," said Amplifier. "We've got assaults on the Tobin Bridge, the Sumner Tunnel, and the Zakim Bridge. Judging by reports, we've already got flooding in the tunnels, attacks on the foundations of the Tobin, and... fish men swarming the Zakim."

"We're in for a long night, folks," said Fathom. "Silversmith, Amplifier, you're on the Tobin. Howler, you and Dagger will take the Zakim - push the fishmen back, treat the wounded. Soundbreaker, Almsman, you're on evac and treatment for the civvies in the Sumner - and if you see any of those fishmen, be sure and kick their ass sideways." He turned to the Freedom City contingent. "You three are with me on Ted Williams. Don't suppose you've got any way of getting there fast?"

Cannonade cast a glance towards Wisp and Crow. "Uh, yeah," he said. "You could say that..."

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  • 2 weeks later...

In the time it took to blink, Crow and Wisp managed to carry not only themselves, but Cannonade and Fathom, to the mouth of the Ted Williams Tunnel. Traffic had come to a complete stop, with most of the cars lying abandoned on the I-90. Most of the ones still occupied were being evacuated, as their drivers and passengers joined the tide of people rushing out of the tunnel. Cannonade didn't even stop - within seconds, he was racing over the hoods and roofs of cars, pushing against the stream of humanity and heading deeper into the tunnels. Fathom, Crow and Wisp were right behind him, keeping pace. The two teleporters watched as Fathom's bomber jacket began to swell and stretch, enfolding the man and filling with bulk. Within seconds, there was a huge, bipedal sea lion racing over the traffic jam.

As the tunnel descended below, water began to lap up from below - by the time they get into the depths of the tunnel, it was already up to window level on most of the cars, and rising fast. In the distance, four men - if you could call them that - searched through the cars, looking for stranded humans. Two swam through the water, mere dark shapes against the brackish waters of the ocean. Two walked over the cars, carrying golden tridents in their arms.

"We got a plan?" Cannonade whispered.

"You and me are running interference," Fathom said. "You take land, I'll take sea. You two -- " He gestured to Crow and Wisp. " -- catch 'em off guard. Seems like you're good at that." With that, he dove into the depths of the tunnel, his form slimming down to that of a standard sea lion. While he moved in towards his targets, one of the Deep Ones swept their eyes towards the mouth of the tunnel - and pointed his trident towards Cannonade, shrieking in some primeval tongue.

He just cracked his knuckles. "Y'know, given how you look now," he said, "there's really no way I can make ya look ugly. But damn if I ain't gonna try."

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  • 2 weeks later...

The Dark One raised its trident, chanting in a guttural tongue. The waters of the flooded tunnel rose around him, enveloping the cars that were in the middle of the tunnel. Cannonade could see hands pounding against the windows of two cars - people were still trapped inside!

He knew he couldn't warn Crow and Wisp - the plan relied on them catching the Deep Ones off guard. He strode forward, running across the cars to get to the stranded humans -- but as he did, the water rose suddenly around him, coming to his waist. It began to harden around him, taking on the feel of steel cable, binding him to the roof of the car. The Deep One advanced towards him, trident raised high.

"Nice trick," he said. "Hope you're not attached to that can opener."

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  • 1 month later...

Watching the waters rise at the command of the trident's wielder the teleporter sprang into action. In a series of bounding leaps she jumped from car to car shortly behind Cannonade, letting the big guy get the sea creature's attention.

Before the Deep One could reply to Cannonade's comment Wisp's boots were planted firmly in the monster's jaw. She glanced over her shoulder and gave the people in the car a quick glance, making up her mind that when the opportunity presented itself she needed to rip some doors off.

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Crow took the other trident wielder - one moment it was waving it's weapon, growling in a gutteral dead language, the next a black-clad figure had simply -appeared- in front of it.

Myrmidon had done some drilling with Crow and the others before on proper weapon disarmament, particularly after Tian - simply kicking the weapon from their hands was slightly too reckless, not to mention leaving the disarm-er open from retribution from the disarm-ee. Crow's movements were fast and fluid, benefits of repeated drill. Push aside the trident with the left hand. Right fist to elbow joint. (at least, he thought it was the elbow - Crow wasn't exactly up on Deep One anatomy). Turn with the motion. Left elbow strike to gut. Seize weapon with right hand. Kick back with right foot to stomach to disengage.

And bamf.

Morgan pulled the cloak of the Veil Rune over himself behind a car near their entry point, looking at the trident in his hands. A half-baked idea started to work in his head, and he searched around his coat for just the right rune for the job. Civilians were in danger - but they were safer in those cars than in the middle of the melee right now. They needed more room to maneuver.

A voice came from nowhere - "Push them back! I'll try and force the water out!" Somehow.

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"Got it," Cannonade said as the water slid off from around his waist. He looked up to the ceiling of the tunnel, trying to adjust for the rising tide and ensure that he wouldn't be making things worse by cracking open a second hole to the harbor. After taking his time, he took a running leap from the roof of the car, landing on another car. The roof splintered, but he'd taken the time to pick out one that was unoccupied - and one that was plenty close to two of the amassing Deep Ones. "Let's see how good you are with choppy seas," he muttered under his breath. He brought his hands together quickly, cupped so that all the force would rush outward. The crack could be heard all the way out at the mouth of the tunnel, and the force slammed forward, creating a miniature tidal wave and ripping tiles from the wall. The Deep Ones were sent tumbling through the rough water, and one slammed hard against the railing on the walkway, sliding down into the depths.

The other one, meanwhile, managed to recover, maintaing his hold on the trident all the while. He dove forward towards Cannonade, fighting against the waves, and his spear went through the shirt to brush against his breast. It pinged harmlessly against his skin, but in the second before it left contact, Cannonade could feel some strange force inside tearing at his will - but he managed to maintain control long enough for the feeling to pass.

"Huh," he said. His eyes slid off the Deep One briefly - Fathom was swimming through the depths, making his way over. "So, those just part of your screwed-up self, or do they come free with every messed-up lawn dart?"

Meanwhile, the Deep One that had been disarmed by Crow surveilled his surroundings. The mysterious black one had vanished... but the one who had attacked him was still there. He dove for Wisp, his fists colliding with her midsection...

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Wisp spat out a grunt of pain as the aquatic monster's fist drove into her stomach. The blow hurt last crazy, her vision spinning and blurring for a few seconds as the blow drove the air from her lungs. "Okay, yeah," she wheezed, "Lucky shot."

Still short of breath the teleporter raised her fist, blue and black energy swirling around it until coalescing into a crackling arua. With an effort of will she urged the blast to lash out at her foe. With a tiny roar the blast shot towards and then just wide of her target.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Crow hunkered down behind one car, turning the trident over and over in his hands. Okay, markings. Deep One markings, probably. Ugly Deep One markings. Probably lots of blasphemies and ia ia Cth-oh no he wasn't saying THAT out loud. Or thinking it. At all. No.

Damnit, this was more Blake's field than his. Guy even had the Necronomicon as a bedside book. Who does that? No, seriously? The Necro-freaking-nomicon in his jacket pocke-FOCUS, Crow.

Cursing fluidly (knee-deep in water), he scanned it again and homed in on a series of runes that looked vaguely like warding ones; basic preventative stuff, keep jojo amateur mage from futzing with your magical doodads by restricting them to blood or DNA or arcane signature or some such. He'd pondered trying to get one on the coat, but that wasn't quite his bailiwick yet (that, and messing with the runes on a coat woven by fae and embossed with several runes of immense power which he only barely understood as-is struck him as a bad idea - even if he did mess with them frequently anyway...okay, bad thought). The teen hero flipped a piece of chalk out of his coat pocket, scrawling on that series of Deep One markings and crossing his fingers.

Principle should be the same, just focus on them akin to runes and...hah, hello! He grinned - he could feel an ethereal snap, a twinge of magic fraying, and then the power resonating in the golden trident; it was dark and dangerous, naturally. But so was he. The Deep Ones got an eyeful of bad juju as he vaulted onto the top of a car, holding the trident high and thrusting it towards the water. A wind kicked up, the scent of brine filled his nose, and a wave splashing on the car set his coat to billowing. He bellowed at the top of his lungs in the old tongue, sounding fearsome and arcane...

"Uh ... begone, uisce! Faigh imithe sibh! Saoire! Téigh! Amach, amach, amach! Buail an bóthar, uisce - agus níl a thagann tú ar ais nach bhfuil níos mó, nach bhfuil níos mó, nach bhfuil níos mó, nach bhfuil níos mó!"

I am so glad nobody here knows Gaelic.

Translation:"Uh...begone, water! Get ye gone! Leave! Go! Out, out, out! Hit the road, water -- and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more!"

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The water rushed out of the tunnel, pushing against the flow and actually blocking the leak from the bay. The sudden shift of tide was a nasty surprise for the Deep Ones, many of whom were using the water to gain the advantage over the heroes. But with that gone, they were desperately trying to regain their footing. The civilians in the tunnel likewise took advantage of the gap, pushing out of their cars - the doors no longer weighed down by the water pressure - and running for the mouth of the tunnel. As one of the Deep Ones struggled to get a grip, Cannonade delivered a solid blow to its scaly belly.

"Yeah, not so fun now, is it?" he said. "Not fun being a fish outta water, is --?" The taunt was cut off as he felt the cold bite of a trident brush across his neck. He had visions of being in the black depths of the ocean, crushed on all sides by the sheer pressure. And worse, there was something under him, something he couldn't see... waiting.

He shook his head and the vision was gone, with just a cut as evidence. "Man, no wonder you like those toys..."

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With a slight jerking of her right fist towards herself, Wisp's energy blast, still moving down the tunnel after missing the Deep-One suddenly reversed its direction. "You know, you shouldn't have taken your eye off the ball," she said with a smirk just before the crackling sphere of energy crashed into her foe's back.

Glancing around as the water rushed out of the tunnel and the look of shock far too familiar on the alien faces of the Cthuloid horrors, the teleporter focused her mind and in a series of smokey bursts threw an overwhelming assault on the monsters. A few seconds after she started, the smoke cleared to show four unconscious hydromancers and one white haired teen soaked with tunnel water, breathing hard as she maintained a defensive posture.

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Crow stood atop the car, the trident held aloft...and promptly dropped the weapon with a loud clang. Staring at Wisp with big eyes over the bandanna. He looked at the unconscious Deep Ones, then back at her. Around at the smoke all over the place. Back at her.

Beat.

The others could tell he was grinning under the bandanna.

"You are ridiculously hot right now."

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After surveying her work, making sure none of the monsters were getting back up she turned towards her boyfriend and gave a little smirk and with a slight laugh said, "Oh sure, now you notice."

Jumping down off the roof of the car she'd landed on she moved over to the one Crow stood upon. Noting the trident laying on the ground, part of her wanted to pick the thing up and snap it in half. But given the runes running along its length she could clearly see that this was a very bad idea.

Wisp surveyed the various cars, looking for anyone who might be in need of her 'ambulance special', a quick teleport to nearby EMTs.

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It seemed that everyone had gotten out during the initial rush; there were a few who'd had some scrapes in the initial chaos, but none who'd been seriously wounded. Fathom looked around the fallen Deep Ones, then to Wisp. "Damn," he said. "That was impressive. Last time I saw this many fish laid out was when I was up in Gloucester."

"Well, that's here taken care of," Cannonade said. He'd taken advantage of the lull to go over to the break in the tunnel wall; with a little effort, he'd been able to push the broken masonry back into place, bend some of the guide rails into rebar, and drive them in to reinforce the patchwork. It wouldn't last long, and he'd been lucky if it would last until morning, but it would at least stop the flooding while they left. "What about the others?"

"Only one way to find out."

With the aid of Crow and Wisp, the group ran on a tour of the various points of attack. The tide was turning against the Deep Ones on all fronts - Soundbreaker had stopped the flooding in the Sumner, while Almsman was treating the civilians. Howler and Dagger's all-out assault had pushed the fishmen off of the Zakim, while Amplifier and Silversmith had secured the Tobin. Silversmith was just starting to wield broken support beams back together when they showed up.

"Boston lives another day," she said. "The Architect would be proud."

"Huh. Wasn't much of an invasion force, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," said Fathom. "Unless..." He looked out over the Tobin, which was still broken but slowly mending together. "The Sumner cracked, the Zakim torn up... and after Faneuil Hall..."

"...this was just the first wave, wasn't it?"

"But what would they bring next? After all of this..."

Almsman's voice erupted over Fathom's earpiece. "We need everyone on Logan now! The sooner, the better! Coast Guard says there's something coming in from the Harbor!"

Before Cannonade could blink, he was on the tarmac at Logan Airport. This was where the runways tapered off, where the earth met sea and planes fought their last battle against gravity. They were clear, for the most part - Soundbreaker had managed to get everything either grounded or up in the air due to the nature of the threat. And as the lights of the city played out over the dark harbor, the waters churned and boiled.

"You said these guys had a god..."

"Dagon," Fathom said. In the distance, a scaled head rose from the depths. Slimy like a frog, predatory like a shark, but... there was something about it that couldn't be placed. It was like looking back at the history of man, back to where the ancients hadn't gotten out of the water and just decided to stay in the depths and grow. It breached, and let out a roar that said a hundred things at once. About victory, validation, and the tide sweeping out to drown all. "Looks like he's come to reward the faithful."

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The god of the Deep Ones pushed his way onto the shore, and the more of his bulk that was revealed, the less it seemed could be described. Cannonade could have sworn the thing's feet were like an elephant's, flat and round... but when he blinked, they looked more like a human foot with tentacles for toes. There was no denying the rage in the thing's eyes, though, which bore down on him like a cannon. The monstrosity lumbered forward, every step deliberate and practiced.

"Not doing much for a god, huh?"

"The ward's still up," said Fathom, "but it won't last for long, way he's tearing at it. Then again, we don't need long --"

Fathom's words were cut off as Dagon let out a terrible roar. Eldritch flame licked from his crown like St. Elmo's Fire and surged down to the pavement below. Cannonade saw shapes in the flame, half-human things rampaging over the city and tearing it down brick by brick. In the distance, he could hear screaming.

"...yeah. Kinda get the point now."

"Yeah. Still... you'd think gods would have better aim."

The selkie charged forward, diving for Dagon's ankle. The behemoth took one lumbering step to the side at the last minute, sending Fathom skidding to the lip of the runway. Dagon locked eyes on the city of Boston, screaming his rage to all the world.

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Wisp looked on as the monster, for no other word could adequately describe what she saw rising from the water. Acting on instinct, and more than a little bit of primal, instinctual fear, she tried to focus to create a blast of crackling energy between her palms.

With an effort of will, she launched the sphere at Dagon. His sudden roar as she launched the attack however knocked her off balance, causing the attack to just barely miss it's misshapen head. "Damn it!" she muttered as she watched the blast sail clean past.

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