The lightning, while unnaturally manipulated by an enraged fiend, had struck its three targets dead on. The arcs of electricity drew as lines through a maze, as they traveled between the buildings. Meanwhile, the six ground units were stepping through their portal: One by one they disappeared into the inverted space, as their signatures of existence were cut off from the dimension. The last two sentinels were arrested by the shimmering black light, in which their bodies jolted and seized; the acid yellow lights lining their armor had flickered to a dim gold. Both troopers immediately collapsed to the ground. The tactics of such an attack could only be surmised as, both literally and figuratively, a blitzkrieg.
The upper half of the two ARC units’ armor was somewhat charred and smoking; slight lines of a misty, pale blue ozone amassed the surface of their bodies. One ARC’s helm had a slight fracture lining across the surface from the force of the strike, though the angry yellow eye behind its opaque shade still glowed. The damaged units twitched within the minute of inactivity, and began to slowly rise up; the sheer kinetic force behind the lightning caused the units to accept damage, but the polymers that made up their armor was non-conductive. Without another second to spare, the steadfast troopers dashed through the portal: They too retreated from this conflict, as per ordered.
The heat of the attack lasted at the front of Randin’s property. By all appearances, Hatchet was also struck down by a bolt of lightning during this escapade. Alpha unit, on the roof of Randin’s condominium, had suffered the direct wrath of this foe and his instant attacks; the unit’s defensive system was out maneuvered by the speed of literal lightning. The moment the weapon severed half-way through Alpha unit’s torso, its armor lights flashed red, and the unit vanished in a thick of black dust: An instance surely only the attacker might note.
Beta unit had applied its Blink spell immediately after the threat attacked; like a shadow, the ARC’s body flickered in an instant, as it continued on to the portal. It was understood between the ARCs and their master that they were to retreat when a release was in order. There was an understanding between the ARCs themselves that the man, or monster, or mutant, known as ‘Jack M. Hatchet’ could not contain himself in the heat of battle.
And, so it was that this mutant rose from the charred earth to face all such beings who defied his power. His arm, which was catalyzed by a black mineral, had taken the brunt of the sudden strike in an attempt to guard against whatever force the electricity served. The alien gene spliced into this body craved to release itself from captivity: The Cortex, a triggered response from Hatchet’s body had countered the strike through the manifestation of the alien gene within him. The top half of his suit was burnt and tattered, which allowed for a generous visual of ebony, edgy black marks drawn over the pale surface of his torso; the mineral clearly exhibited where the voracious surges of electricity had touched, as the marks appeared as exceptionally large, protruding scars. Upon the surge through his body, the Cortex had melded with his skin to act as a superior surface of contact.
However, the mineral was unknown to any as being fallible, it did not fully protect Hatchet; the inside of his body was still vulnerable to the natural phenomenon that was lightning. His burnt organs, and the hole blasted into his right shoulder had regenerated upon his rise from the attack; in these brief seconds of regard for Messor’s strike, Hatchet was laughing. To influence his comedic stature, Hatchet’s head and face were littered by large, dark patches of his mineral shield. A horn-like protrusion had extended from the right corner of his crown, and cut into his hair line; it appeared as a long, black shard branching out of the top of his head. The cortex cuffed over his jawline, and curled in a rigid design on his cheekbones.
“Wonderful!” An exclamation was heard from the ground. “Now, I feel clean. All those germs! Zapped!” Hatchet jeered at his opposer. “Oh, but don’t think I didn’t see that!” Hatchet took evasive maneuvers, and sprinted for the inside of Randin’s house. His arms and hands were encompassed by the cortex. Large, black claws- two feet in length- extended sharply from his hands to act as melee gauntlets. Range strikes could be readily predicted, now that Hatchet witnessed this creature’s means; a pair of eyes, as monstrous as the draconic entity’s standing before him, darted from head-to-toe in their magnification of Messor’s movements.
