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The Sun Never Sets [IC]


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"I am what I appear to be," replied Harrier, his voice burning with shame. "In all ways. But freed by a stroke of fate." His armor retracted, a sickening albeit momentary sight, and Wail was confronted by the face beneath the steel. He'd seen the meat inside some drones before, but not that scarred, all-too-human face intact. "I can walk among the men and women of your world with this face. Not with that other that was made mine."  His voice tightened as the world burned around them. "I can let no one suffer. Not on your world, not on any other. So I wear Caradoc's name, and voice, and fight behind a mask as so many do on the world we left behind. Please," he said, gesturing to the crowd, "I cannot guide them like this, but you can. Let us save these people." 

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"Jiminy Cricket," LaMarr muttered with the vehemence of a curse as the drone's armor retracted in a sickening reveal of Terminus mutilation. There was a beat of deliberation before Wail grunted flatly and shook his hands once, flicking blood away. "This conversation isn't over, son, but you're not wrong. Let's save these people." Taking a deep breath, he called out in a voice that carried throughout the entire factory district, vibrating through the ground close by. "My name is Wail and I need you all to stay clam! We're here to bring you home to your families! Just head for the flying man in white and armor. He oughta be tough to miss."

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The terror amongst the workers below shut off quickly, like a gas stove with the pilot cut off. As Gabriel's words washed over them, whispers began to arise among them... and soon enough, the whispers rose into triumphant cheers. And as Wail's message spread out to the other factories, other noises rang in the background - distant shouts, and faded explosions.

---

Cannonade, meanwhile, was still dealing with his own mess, staring down the remaining constables. They weren't going to put down their arms, by the looks of it, so he'd just have to put the arms down for them. He brought his hands together, sending another thunderclap down the street. Two of the constables went flying to the ground, lying down and not doing much but groaning. One still maintained his stance, however, rifle trained on Cannonade.

"Really?" he said. "You really wanna do this?"

The constable didn't say a thing. He just tightened his grip. Before he could fire, however, the din from the factory district started to wash out to the other neighborhoods.

"Yeah, guess that'd be them," he said. "So, consider this one a victory." He turned, gathered his strength, and took to the skies, soaring over the city as he arched towards the chaos his friends had stirred up.

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With the situation with Wail resolved, and much more importantly with the people under Gabriel's protection and ready to leave the dimension, the scarred-face drone looked for a moment like he was ready to retreat into the shadows before he said, "The way out. The coachman escaped." Steve blinked, audibly even over the sound of the crowd, before his armor erupted from his body again. "If one can do it, more can do it. Need a prisoner. Better I am there than on the street here." And with that he took off, an armored figure of horror riding a shrieking column of fire, and headed not for the heart of the burning factory district but for its edge. He passed Cannonade briefly on the way before slamming down in the middle of a crowded street, finding a fleeing native by his pointed ears and gold pocketwatch. Without hesitation, he interposed between the man and his freedom and pointed with a single spiked finger. "Where are your dimensional transports?" 

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The fairy gentleman stopped dead before Harrier, as if his bones had turned to ice. The faint smell of something pungent and mildly acidic filled the air. "The... the Transport Authority!" he said, as if desperately wrestling for control over his tongue. "I... I heard they control all excursions beyond. By order of Gloriana Lucem!"

Cannonade, meanwhile, was busy taking part in the continued liberation efforts, mainly through creatively applied demolition. A familiar smell assaulted his nostrils as he pounded into the next factory - smelted iron. A quick scan of the factory told him this place was a wonderworks - even though everything was done in brass and polished steel, it was the kind of apparatus the owners of his workplace might kill a man over. And yet, he quickly noticed the lack of rails, the improper blast shielding, the near-complete lack of safety gear on those slaving over the furnaces... this place was a very pretty death trap.

"You!" Cannonade turned; the foreman was running up to him, all heavy leathers and blast goggles. "What are you doing! Do you know what chaos you've --"

A hand around the throat swiftly cut off the discussion. "Do you even give a **** about them?" he said. "They've got nothing keeping 'em from the fires."

"It..." The foreman struggled to get the words out. "It's how it was."

Cannonade took one last look at the fantastic equipment, shook his head, and threw the foreman over his shoulder, taking care to aim somewhere relatively soft and nonlethal. "Break time, boys and girls!" he cried out. "Anyone feel like stepping out for a smoke?"

Few were opposed to the idea.

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Gabriel was, for the most part, serving as a rallying point outside the various factories. The crowd was growing rapidly, and as his words of encouragement rolled over them, those who might have been somewhat more enchanted by the workings of the Fae seemed to get into the spirit of the sudden "revolution" a bit more. 

 

He'd reached a lull in his efforts while he spread his hearing out a bit, trying to see if they'd missed anyone. That's when he heard the coughing and a single voice that seemed to be crying. Almost immediately he was out of sight, and had blurred past where Cannonade was berating the foreman. 

 

He blasted down the door to a cellar that...was actually part of a series of dark, dank tunnels that were all but choking with coal dust. A handful of faeries were standing about in nigh-immaculate outfits tastefully scattered with smudges, full-face masks preserving their breathing.

 

The dozen young men and women, none of them over 25, and a few not even 20 yet, were coated in coal dust, grime, and sweat. They were apparently the ones pushing loads of coal around these tunnels, likely selected because they were smaller (the tunnels weren't overly large). That this meant they had more trouble pushing fully-loaded coal carts didn't seem to matter. That their unmasked faces meant that they'd soon be wracked with coughs didn't matter. That one young woman, perhaps 20 if that, was curled up in a corner from exhaustion and coughing almost constantly didn't matter. 

 

All that apparently mattered was moving coal without it dirtying up the streets. 

 

Apparently, one of the "supervisors" had seen some play or another where the person in charge of a work gang practiced corporal punishment, because he had what looked like a thick switch in his hand. 

 

Gabriel's face was, for one brief moment, an expression of outrage. Then it went entirely calm.

 

Even when the butt of his spear lashed out and neatly broke the arm holding the switch, he was utterly calm.

Even as the spear's tip severed the chains holding the men and women down here to their carts were cut, he was calm. 

As he broke 2 noses and 10 ribs on 3 faeries, he was calm. 

 

As he reached down and picked up the half-conscious young woman, already undernourished, coating his gleaming outfit in coal dust, he was calm.

 

He glanced back at the Fae whose arm he broke.

 

"You ever touch another Mortal again, everything breaks."

 

Then he turned and walked back up the stairs, following the other "coal jockeys" to the crowd outside, where he handed off the slowly-waking young woman to someone else, and resumed his duties as rallying point.

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Reluctant though he still was to let the erstwhile Omegadrone out of his sight, LaMarr decided to focus on one enemy at a time. As he's expected Gabriel was easy enough to spot and head toward, particularly with the commotion being caused by the freeing of the factory workers. Finding a pair of largely intact wagons along the way, the super strong veteran hero had soon fashioned himself into a crude ambulance, each mighty arm pulling a cart behind him laden with those bearing the worst injuries. "So," he called to Cannonade as the younger man led another batch of emancipated captives to the growing group, "we know where we're taking this caravan?"

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"I was thinking we'd go back the way we came," said Cannonade. "But that was before all this hit the fan. They've gotta have the city on lockdown by now." He strode across the factory floor he'd just left, hauling up the foreman who was still lying collapsed in the corner. "So," he said tightening his grip, "your labor force. Who lets you assholes go out on recruiting runs?"

"The... Transport Authority," said the foreman. "They control the gates... in and out. By Her Majesty's word --"

"And where the hell is this place?"

The foreman pointed off in the distance, to where Cannonade could see a three-story building with a mighty stone arch set into its front.

"Kinda obvious when you think about it. Thanks." He placed the foreman back down - with a thud - and walked out. "All right, we gotta go to the building with the arch and bend some arms 'til we can get a gate back out of here. They keep mentioning this queen, though..."

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An Omegadrone came shrieking out of the sky, riding a column of fire that screamed like a damned soul as he came in for a landing alongside the others. Taking a moment to orient himself, and once he had learned that the others had also found the way home, Harrier hesitated just a moment before he spoke. "Leave her," he said to Cannonade. "Her dimension has been invaded. Her city set alight, her slaves liberated. I have...knowledge of this sort of people." That armored head seemed to swivel as he took in the scene around them, standing safely behind the other heroes so as not to alarm the civilians they were rescuing. "If she does not oppose us, her subjects will replace her and find a ruler more to their liking. If she comes out to meet us, we there destroy her power." He could have said more, spoken of his experience with worlds so vastly wicked that they devoured the very souls and character of the heroes who came to liberate them, but he suspected such a discussion would be fruitless. 

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Wail made a resonant harrumphing sound and he shifted the weight of the carts he was dragging and continued to march toward the gate. "It's damned unsettling, but he's not wrong," he noted to the remaining heroes, although he didn't sound particularly pleased about it. "No use picking a fight with a mess of worn and weary in tow. Don't love leaving the job half done but we found what we came for. Let's get these folks back to their families."

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Gabriel nodded as the others spoke.

 

"Yes. As much as I'd like to turn this city to powder-"

 

He seemed to mean that entirely literally.

 

"These people are our first priority. I can take over-watch, especially since I can pretty quickly relay if something nasty is inbound, or I can warn one of the civilians if they're about to get separated. Either way."

 

If there was no objection to the idea, once they got moving Gabriel would take to the air, using his vocal prowess to get the whole group clumped together and moving, before staying in the air in a spot roughly above the middle of the crowd.

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The doors to the Transport Authority opened swiftly when Cannonade knocked on them. Mind, his version of a "knock" resulted in the doors breaking from their hinges and flying fifty yards, but it was still fairly polite and restrained. Those still in the Authority at this hour sprung from their desks and drew their swords, opening the first beads of what might be gates to elsewhere. But with one look, the various heroes made them stand still.

"You could try it," said Cannonade, "or you could help us get out of here before this place gets turned into spare parts. Your choice."

Strangely enough, the fairies saw wisdom. Soon, a huge gate was open, leading back into the night-cloaked streets of Southside. The citizens of Freedom preceded in orderly fashion while Cannonade stood outside, keeping watch. They were almost done when a light went up from a distant hill, soaring towards the sky like a meteor.

"What the hell?" he said. "Are they trying to..."

Then, some bone of old church Latin scraped against Cannonade's head. "Gloriana Lucem." "Glory From Light." And there was something regal and terrible about that light streaming through the sky...

One of the fairies must have seen it, too. The gate swiftly began to close, as if trying to cut the interlopers off.

"The queen's on her way!" he yelled. "Move! Move!"

The last of the citizens of Freedom were carried through as the heroes tried to get out as soon as possible. As Cannonade hefted the last of the workers up onto his shoulders, he sped through the gate - now no larger than a narrow alley - and pushed through. He turned to look over his head, seeing the light as it touched down outside. There was someone in it - a beautiful woman, her face frozen in hideous fury. She locked eyes with him just before the gate sealed shut, and he felt like someone had frozen his spinal cord.

He watched the empty air, waiting for - and dreading - the inevitable sundering of the air, and that thing trying to break through to reality. But it never came. Whatever was happening over there, it was staying over there.

"Guess they're cutting their losses..."

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"A despot in her own world, she fears to enter this one. A common vice, for her kind," said the former Omegadrone with distaste as the doorway between dimensions closed behind them, leaving the fae where they belonged. With the mission done, Harrier chose to exercise the better part of valor. "I recommend calling the Freedom League immediately," he said to the other heroes seriously. "They have those among them who can help the displaced. If you wish to finish our business, Wail," he added, that dead growl of a mechanical voice without hostility, "you may find me at the Albany subway station at this time tomorrow. It is your right." And with that, fire belching smoke and flame as his armor shrieked like a damn soul, Harrier roared off into the Freedom City night, leaving the others and the civilians behind. 

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Gabriel turned as the tunnel between realms closed...And gave the Queen a cheeky grin and cheesy finger wave.

 

After the rift was gone, he banished his spear to its subtle form and turned to comfort the nearby people for a moment. When Harrier mentioned the League assisting, he turned to the others.

 

"Yeah, hang on, let me get my phone out. They've almost got a communicator rigged up for me that won't shatter when I go supersonic...Anyways, I think Captain Thunder and Johnny Rocket are on duty at the moment. Thunder should be able to help coordinate, and Rocket can get here ASAP."

 

Hard to remember the showy sound-wielder was an Auxiliary member of the League sometimes. He quickly dialed in to the Lighthouse.

 

"Captain? Yes, it's Gabriel. No, not a disaster proper. Myself and the heroes Cannonade, Caradoc, and Wail just retrieved a large number of hostages from...well, we can hash it out in the debrief, but I'm going to say it was one of the Avalons attached to Earth. Anyways. We punched some faeries in the face and brought our people back, but we need some hands and feet on the ground over here. No telling if everyone's from Freedom City, or if the net was cast wider. Oh, and is Lieutenant Sokolova on-duty? Excellent, we've got a bunch of minor wounds, and a few major ones. Her and her medics would help a lot. Johnny can probably help start getting folks pointed in the right direction while we get some more boots on the ground."

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