ic Faded Giant [IC]

[trollthumper]

Cannonade took a look at the grim spectacle before him. It wasn't like this was his first time seeing Midnight look over a dead body - the memory of the night with the other Greta Ratner wouldn't go away for quite some time - but it was definitely his first time seeing an autopsy live and in person. No amount of primetime crime drama had really prepared him for this. He kept his eyes away as Midnight did his work, both admiring the way the young detective went about his work and steadfastly wanting to look at anything other than the dead Spetsnaz laid out on the gurney. Instead, he stayed focused on the results.

"So, guessing this thing killed him instantly," he said. "Given how preserved he is, though, we don't know when the hell that was. Report from Grayston said the 5th disbanded in 1959. Guy doesn't look like he's on the other side of 40, so, assuming he didn't have some sort of gift that made him look young and fresh for all eternity, time of death could've been... anywhere from when the Spetsnaz started to 1979. And the other end's if he was a real talented kid who got in just as the unit was closing up shop." He went over to Midnight's computer and pulled up a history of the Spetsnaz GRU. "First battalions were formed in 1957. That gives us a 22 year window."

[Avenger Assembled]

The autopsy had left Edge unsettled, especially in the wake of the grim findings about the life and unlife of the man who'd died. After his experiences on Erin's homeworld, the idea of using dead bodies as puppets was particularly galling to the usually-cheerful teen, but for the most part he'd been able to wrap that up as the particular odiousness of the Terminus. The idea that someone on Earth-Prime could be that evil, maybe somebody inside a government, was appalling to all his sensibilities. "If the Spetznatz did fight the Color we saw, or if the Soviet government did use it for their own purposes, we're not going to find a lot of evidence in the US. What does exist is probably going to be in paper records, or in heads, in Russia...and I think I know people who can help with that. I have some contacts inside the Peoples' Heroes. I think we need to take a trip."

[trollthumper]

Almost as soon as Mark said it, the walls of the manor fell away around them. Cannonade blinked, and found himself in the main hall of a large, cavernous building. The walls were painted with murals depicting heroism throughout Russian history - from a knight holding a sword that glowed with holy light driving back a witch riding a mortar and pestle, to a man in a cloak fighting off anarchist bombers with flintlocks during the reign of the Romanovs, to the People's Heroes taking the field against the ubermen of Nazi Germany, to the triumphs of Soviet super-science, to the People's Heroes as they stood today. Cannonade had to squint to make out some of the details, though, due in part to the low-lighting. And that was when he finally remembered that, wherever they were in Russia, it was no doubt several hours ahead of Freedom City.

"Don't know much about the People's Heroes," he said, "least, their current lineup. But I'm guessing someone's gotta be up at this hour --"

As if to answer the suggestion, a stream of black fog poured into the room, coalescing before the Liberty League in the form of a man. The black cloak he wore looked like it had seen a lot over the years, which made it slightly weird that it was paired with black fatigues and state-or-the-art body armor. "" he said in Russian. ""

[Gizmo]

Midnight berated himself for but a moment for not finding a chance to brush up on his Russian the moment they'd identified the corpse's tattoo, but there was little point in dwelling on it. Stepping forward in front of his team, the black clad detective let a roiling, stygian cloud of his own roll out from the imperceptible gaps in his costume's layers, letting the fog pour across the floor. The message in his contained body language was clear: Do not for a moment think you are the most frightening thing in this room.

Simultaneously, he drew from behind his coat a egg of polished metal slightly larger than his fist, the way he cradled it in the crook of one arm dispelling any fears that it might be an explosive. "Redbird. Assume you were listening?"

"Naturally," came a smooth, female alto from the egg with just the slightest hint of artifice. The voice was no louder than Midnight's and carried with it the deliberateness of calculating appraisal. "He wishes an explanation for your presence, unsurprisingly.

"Don't instigate," the human carrying her demanded flatly, his voice rumbling like gravel against gravel through his featureless mask.

"In my experience, such meetings inevitably descend into violence born of misunderstanding," Redbird explained, a touch of boisterous eagerness colouring her deliberate cadence. "Better to establish dominance quickly and move on to more productive topics, yes?"

[Avenger Assembled]

"" said Mark in fluent Russian, the carrot to Midnight and Redbird's stick with smooth grace, "" he went on, indicating the rest of the team to the World War II veteran before them. "

[Electra]

Wander listened to the proceedings with one ear, glad that Redbird was translating so she'd know what was going on. Most of her attention was concentrated on the massive open space around them, looking for any sign of movement. The People's Heroes were ostensibly allies to the heroes of America these days, but there were decades of bad blood and old grudges that could make these meetings very touchy. She didn't want to be surprised when their host's allies started showing up, especially if they showed up in a bad mood. And yes, maybe she was a little jumpy after hearing the autopsy results, but she wasn't going to let that affect her performance on the mission. She just hoped the room wasn't going to get any foggier.

[trollthumper]

Nightwatchman studied Edge, then nodded. "" he said, ""

""

Cannonade and the others turned to see two others wander out into the main antechamber of the building - Crimson Bomb, the champion of the new Russia, in his red armor, and Morning Star, the returned Slavic goddess, in her armor. Crimson Bomb made a beeline for Edge. "Edge!" he cried out in English. "It is good to see you again. You were a lifesaver after the Vladivostok incident. How we ever got that thing back to Kaiju Island..."

'And if you are a friend of his, you are a friend of mine," said Morning Star. "Still, what do you mean when you say 'color'?"

"Wish we knew ourselves," said Cannonade. "Far as we know, it doesn't have a body, it can possess people, it's radioactive and mutagenic, and it doesn't show up anywhere on the rainbow. Oh. And it comes from space."

"And you say it was in the body of a soldier?" said Nightwatchman. "Can you provide us with his face? I may have this in my archives."'s>

[Avenger Assembled]

Edge didn't have that information handy (he rarely did), but he knew Midnight had the pictures and records from the autopsy, so while that was being handled he concentrated on talking to the Russian heroes. "Hey, I was just doing my job," he said, the nature of his work meaning he wasn't even dissembling. "I'm officially not here on UNISON business," he added honestly, "but I'll remember next time I am if you're able to help us out with this." He spread his hands. "As you know, there's still a lot of secrecy about what happened in this country during the Cold War, even about things that have nothing to do with defending Russia." He looked at Morning Star and Crimson Bomb and went on, "Have there been incursions by entities like that in Russia that any of yo are aware of?"

[trollthumper]

Nightwatchman took the photos from Midnight, who offered them up as Edge asked his question. "Nothing as of yet," said Crimson Bomb. "No missing soldiers, no strange colors, nothing. And nothing out of space -- "

"That's not true," said Morning Star. "The auroras. Lights have been dancing in the sky, all the way down to the border. My sister, the Evening Star, knows the names of all the stars in the sky, and she does not know why these ones dance so far down from the crown of the world."

"...yeah, I'd say that counts," said Cannonade. "Anywhere these things have been showing up in force?"

"The auroras? They seem thickest around the Ural Mountains..."

"Well," said Nightwatchman, hunched over the visitor's desk, "that would explain a lot." With the push of a button, the wall receded behind him, drawing up a gigantic screen. On it was a black and white photo of men in military garb, clutching rifles and smiling at the camera. In the front row was the man who was currently lying on an autopsy table in the Midnight Manor.

"Yeah, there's our guy. And I'm guessing that's the rest of the battalion."

"Fifth Detached Special Operations Battalion, yes. Officially disbanded in 1959, with the members moving on to other pursuits. Unofficially..." He paused, for full effect. "The unit was disbanded after an operation at Dyatlov Pass. Does the name sound familiar?"

"All too well," said Crimson Bomb.

"Dyatlov Pass... wait, I think I saw this on the History Channel. Wasn't that the place where the hikers went missing?"

"Cross-country skiers. They were found months later, with behavior that indicated psychological inconsistencies in their last days. Normally a sign of starvation and exposure... except for the high radiation content in the corpses. The Fifth were on a mission in the area - classified, of course - and returned with similar symptoms. Low-grade radiation poisoning, some confusion. In some cases, however, that confusion extended to lack of emotional affect, and at least two soldiers were completely nonverbal, throwing up gibberish when provoked. Once they were treated, the unit was disbanded. Of course, that's the official report. Anything buried deeper was either never digitized in the first place or got lost in the fall."

"Obviously they found something more than a bad sunburn," said Crimson Bomb. "But what happened to them after the unit was disbanded?"

"They got shifted into other positions with other branches across the GRU. In time, officially, they retired and drew their pensions. It's strange, however - in all these group shots of their supposed new assignments, I can find no pictures of them..."

[Avenger Assembled]

"Their pensions have to be going somewhere," said Edge after a moment's thought, his time working for the UN giving him an appreciation for bureaucracy. "Those men all have to be in their 70s and 80s, at least. If their deaths were being covered up, it'd be much easier to say they were dead; even to kill them in Afghanistan or the Terminus Invasion." History was another thing Mark understood, the use of it, anyway. "They've got to be alive, somewhere. And if the pensions aren't going to them, they're going to someone who knows enough about this case to be worth interrogating." He looked at the faces of those long-dead men, lost in thought. "Their families. Can we contact them, even if we can't contact the men? Someone almost always talks about something."

[Gizmo]

"'Pension'?" Redbird inquired softly from her egg's position in Midnight's arm.

Glancing down for a moment, the terse detective supplied, "Continued income post-retirement." The bulk of his attention remained on the photo their hosts had brought up on the wall-sized screen, hunting for any hidden scrap of information to be found there. In truth he thought Edge's plan was a good one, and privately admitted to being surprised by the gregarious young man's astuteness. Though Mark had become a much more prone to consideration in the time they'd been friends, the way he occasionally revealed additional areas of knowledge and expertise was still unexpected.

"Ah, of course," the autonomic machine intelligence murmured in understanding, "once their aging human forms have become frail and ineffectual."

[Electra]

"Happens to the best of us," Wander murmured to the computer voice, her face deadpan. "At least if you're lucky." She raised her voice then, speaking to the Russian supers. "When we encountered that man, he seemed to be out of his mind, nonverbal, violent. And from the autopsy, he'd been dead and preserved for quite awhile. It doesn't seem like he could've gone undetected for years or decades as crazy or possessed as he was, so he must have come from somewhere. Could he have died way back then and been preserved for some reason, then inhabited by this... whatever it is, alien color pattern, a lot more recently? Those tattoos are so weird, maybe they mean something."

[trollthumper]

Nightwatchman browsed over the photos Midnight had taken, pre-autopsy, of the tattoos on the dead man's flesh. "Wards," he said gruffly. "I have seen... things like this, in my time. They are meant to keep things out... but these are mirror images. They were meant to keep it in."

"We figured something like that," said Cannonade. "So why'd he start going crazy?"

"That's the thing," said Morning Star. "I've seen magic like this many times myself. A ward is a compulsion, a force that says to the mind and the soul, 'Dare not.' These wards..." She looked over the language, her brow furrowing. "They were symbols of tranquility. Rest. Prolonged slumber, until the time came to arise."

"A time bomb," said Crimson Bomb. "But why now? What made him wake?"

"Yeah, and what the hell was he doing in --"

A loud siren went off in the hall as Nightwatchman's archives flew aside in favor of a map of Moscow, with a small district flashing red and a caption box opening in rapidly scrolling Cyrillic. Edge and Midnight, via Redbird, were able to read it - the blurb was describing "four individuals of power" rampaging through the Matushkino District, with a notice of heavy radiological activity.

"It appears we have more pressing issues," said Nightwatchman. "Whichever one of you got us in here, would you --?"

The hall fell away as night swept over the heroes. They found themselves in a forest of Brutalist apartment buildings and tech firms of glass and chrome, the echoes of the Soviet era mixed in with the world of tomorrow. Street lights lit the chaos as people ran from a nearby square, where that strange, indescribable color flashed out in bursts and pulses. Through the madness, the Liberty League caught a glimpse of one man haphazardly flying over the crowd.

A man whose face they had last seen in a picture from 1959.

"It seems like a reunion," said Crimson Bomb, his hands crackling with sparks. "Let us go say hello."

[trollthumper]

Nightwatchman reached into the folds of his cloak and drew forth a shashka that had obviously seen better days. He circled one of the grounded hosts, spitting at in in Russian that Edge and Midnight could perceive clearly. "" he said, "" He raised the sword above his head and danced towards the possessed man, swirling towards him with inhuman grace. But whatever was riding the Spetsnaz man's corpse managed to find some unholy burst of energy and easily avoided Nightwatchman's blow. The vampire came to rest and glowered at the dead thing. ""

[Avenger Assembled]

"Well, that can't be good," muttered Mark a moment before Edge sprang into action. Posing on a nearby stone block that had once held a Hero of the Revolution, fearlessly exposing himself to enemy fire, Edge was suddenly as heroic a figure as anything from a Socialist Realism poster. "Just as it was in the days of our grandfathers, the heroes of the People's Revolution and the Liberty League stand together in battles against terrible threats from beyond the stars! Come on, let's show them that the new generation has the heart and soul of the old! For Freedom, justice, and the people of Mother Russia, let's give this man the peace stolen from him in life!"

[Gizmo]

While the Nightwatchman sprang into action ahead of the others, Midnight hung back for a moment, almost casually drawing the matte black, carbon fiber escrima sticks from their sheathes alongside his shins. He seemed as still as a statue until all attention inevitably turned to the rousing words of his caped friend, even for an instant. Anyone looking back would simply find the fedora wearing vigilante gone.

The mystery did not stand long, however, as a great crack signaled his abrupt reappearance next to one of the possessed corpses on the ground, bringing his twin implements down in a punishing strike designed to test the durability of their opponents. Given the state they'd found the first 'host' in, there seemed little reason to hold back but Midnight was a methodical fighter and he needed a measure of what he was about to take down.

[trollthumper]

The host's body was more of a frame for its strange passenger, a cage that it needed for protection. But that cage could still be bent and broken. The blow caught the possessed Spetsnaz man right in the small of the back, causing the thing to reel. It screamed in fury, turning its gaze on Midnight. Its colleague, likewise, turned towards Nightwatchman and let out an inhuman roar as barely visible energy rippled from its hands. It washed over the undead warrior, causing his sword and the buttons on his greatcoat to spark. The man merely held his stance, however, glaring at the damned thing.

"" he said.

The flying host noticed Nightwatchman's fortitude, and dove in to aid his friend -- which was when Cannonade took a flying leap, aiming to collide with the thing in mid-air. He mistimed his leap, however, as he went flying past the possessed corpse. It took advantage of the forward momentum, turning back at an unnatural angle and unleashing an atomic bombardment on the hero. He managed to tough it out, but he landed awkwardly and could smell his jacket burning from the radioactive blast.

"At least I'll get to work on my tan..." he muttered.

[Electra]

Wander was utterly still for a few moments, nothing moving but her eyes as she assessed the fighting around her. Her immobility seemed to attract the attention of one of the color host, which approached with malice seemingly on its mind. In a heartbeat, Wander was in motion, dropping to the ground as though someone had cut her strings, even as she lashed out with her bat. She caught the possessed creature a solid blow across the legs and was up again as quickly as she'd dove. The zombies were tough, but they were still zombies, she reminded herself. Just keep attacking and don't get hit.

[trollthumper]

The bat caught the shambling soldier right in the face, sending him stumbling back. The dead flesh yielded easily, the nose shattering under impact. But the corpse had other concerns, pain being a fleeting issue. Behind Wander, Morning Star brandished her sword as she sped forward, driving it into the Spetsnaz man's midsection. The sword was like a toothpick to the dead man, however, and he drove it out with one quick gesture. His colleague locked onto Cannonade, unleashing a burst of invisible force at him. It sparked off his helmet and sent him stumbling back.

"Right. Then." Crimson Bomb cracked his knuckles. "I do not know what you are, but... I have had enough of you." He brought his hands together, and the air around the various Spetsnaz ripped apart with a thunderclap. Two of them staggered in place, but their colleagues were quick to take their place. Before they could regroup, however, they paused, still as statues. Before any of the heroes could act, however, the Spetsnaz began to sing. Well, as far as some sort of hideous, atonal thing like a knife being taken to a wine glass could be considered "singing." Trails of indescribable color vented off of their bodies, surging up into the heavens. The blinding array was over as soon as it had begun, and the dead Spetsnaz regained their composure.

"...the hell was that?"

"I don't know," said Nightwatchman. "But with that much power trailing off into nothing..." He brought his sword down on one of the hosts in a flurry of blows, but none seemed to cut deep into the dead flesh. "...hopefully the odds have shifted in our favor."

[Avenger Assembled]

Edge seemed to be everywhere in the battlefield, popping around like a jackrabbit in little bursts of roiling magic energy as he tried to take in everything going on and back everyone up. Mark had a way of stepping up in a crisis, and this was one of the bigger ones he'd faced recently. "Hey, somebody help Cannonade!" he called, pointing to where the helmeted powerhouse was taking some hits from one of the unholy monsters. "It looks like Crimson Bomb's getting somewhere, let's give some backup over there! Great work, Wander, keep hammering them! And somebody help out Nightwatchman, that sword's going to need more hits before he takes anything down! Let's hit them while they're distracted!"

[Gizmo]

His focus remaining on his target, Midnight seemed wholly unimpressed by the enraged screams of the preserved shell that had once been a man. Through ruby red lenses, he locked eyes with the unspeakable thing inhabiting the corpse, staring into its being through the long dead orbs. For a split instant, the alien being knew that it was not the predator but they prey and further that it was truly outmatched. The second of doubt and fear was all Midnight needed to follow through with a two-part combination that caught his foe in the stomach and then under the chin, forcibly lifting the creature off of the ground then crumpling back down in a heap.

[trollthumper]

The dead soldier carried far with the force of the blow, and somewhere in mid-air, the weird luminiferous lights went out in his eyes. The air rippled above the man's corpse as the color released its hold and soared off into the atmosphere, leaving behind an indescribable trail in the process. That wasn't the worst of the lights, though, as one of the hosts sped towards Midnight, aiming to make up for what had happened to his colleague. The square pulsed with hideous colors that burned their way into Midnight's brain, shutting out his other senses.

"This all you got?" said Cannonade. "More freaking light shows?" He drove his fist into the gut of another Spetsnaz. While the flesh was just an anchor for some unknowable horror, the force of the blow was at least enough to give its strange pilot pause. "Can't believe you guys got out of bed for this."

"If I expected things like this to make sense..." Crimson Bomb muttered. "But you have a point. Why now? Why rise and lay waste, if they've been forgotten for so long? What could -- ?"

Crimson Bomb's reverie was cut off as one of the hosts cut loose with a bombardment of hideous light that cut across his back. The Russian champion took the blow well, however, spinning back towards his assailant and smiling. "Wait your turn," he said, his hands sparking with explosive force. "There's plenty."

[Electra]

Wander's head whipped around as she saw Midnight take a hit from one of the possessed corpses. He handled it, shook it off, but just the thought of one of those magical zombies trying to get at him was enough to have her charging heedlessly into the fray. Using her bat as a fulcrum, she flipped across the ground, the sudden strange movements more than enough to distract and disorient the not-terribly bright zombie. She all but tumbled straight into the horrid thing, but at the last moment pulled up and delivered a blow to the thing's neck that was enough to send it reeling. A normal zombie would've been decapitated, but these were even more aggravating than the usual run of animated corpses. She nodded in satisfaction when one of their Russian allies blew the thing to paste, then turned back to the rest of the fight.

[trollthumper]

The Spetsnaz in question was blown backwards by the sheer volley of Crimson Bomb's blast. It hit the ground hard, twitching from impact - or perhaps from the last remnants of its autonomic system putting up a desperate fight. It struggled towards the explosive hero... who met it head-on with a repeat performance that hit the thing right in all its crucial joints. It fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, the indescribable corona that had lit it from within soaring off into the heavens. By his side, Morning Star drove her sword deep into another dead soldier. Moonlight glinted off the blade, running into the host and fighting with the unearthly energy for control. The moonlight was drowned, but judging by the host's composure, it had been a pitched struggle.

One of the dead soldiers, the only one still in full control of its faculties, turned on Cannonade. Unearthly light blazed from the host's eyes and zoomed towards him -- but hit the ground a few feet away, as Nightwatchman took advantage of the distraction to launch an attack. The soldier managed to dodge it, but had lost control of his attack in the process.

"Thanks for the save," Cannonade said.

"Not a problem," said Nightwatchman. He swung at empty air as the Spetsnaz dodged again. "These things are becoming an annoyance..."

[Avenger Assembled]

Stupid creatures from space making zombies out of these poor soldiers and scaring the hell out of everyone, thought Mark, his teeth grinding with frustration as they slogged through the monsters one by one. It wasn't that he begrudged his team the fight, or saw anything wrong with them, but there was something so...terrible about this. Those space monsters were manipulating those bodies and practically forcing Mark and his friends to tear them apart one by one, making it all so much the worse.

"Time to change our luck!" Edge called out, gesturing in the air as reality (already hard-pressed with all these bizarre colors flyin around) suddenly warped in on itself in the air overhead and with a sickening crack, the last two glowing-eyed creatures crashed into each other with the force of an oncoming jet! The lights faded, and they fell, Mark nodding for just a moment in hard satisfaction at a job well done. "Those poor men..."