Eastern Wing City

"Umm...sparring? I...don't really spar with strangers," Odette scratched her head, before she looked at the man. "You can tell me about this person you're looking for, though."

"Which is why I suggested we have a friendly spar. No better way to get to know someone than a few sessions of swordplay, I say. But okay, your loss. Help me with my armor?" He gestured to the molded and fitted pieces of metal, not all of which he could properly attach on his own.

"Anyway, you wanted to know about my target? He's a slippery son of a demon...calls himself Darien Blackdagger. Definitely a nom de guerre, who the hell names their kid that? He's got a posse...at least one demon girl that can whisk him away from trouble. I defeated him before, but he had a Plan B, and I was unable to finish him off. He dresses in finery and wields quite the impressive rapier...the weapon of those that prefer speed over power. One can only guess at the abominations he commits to fund his extravagance. Murder? Solicitation? Thievery? None of these are tolerable...but I cannot stop him alone."

He stopped before putting on the helmet, as if noticing something. "Speaking of solicitation, wherefore do you dress so? You seem little different from the prostitutes that he peddles."

"Look, Paladin, I don't expect you to understand this, but I don't work conventionally. I'm not a close quarters fighter. This staff is an energy weapon as much as it is a regular staff," Odette shrugged and rolled her eyes. "And yeah, I'll help you find this guy."

After a second of thought, she then looked at her outfit. "Oh, and don't insult the outfit. It has tactical value. Not that you'd understand agility with your....armor."

Renalanus and the two sword brethren by his side wandered through the east side of wing city. They passed by thousands of casual people, buildings that provided public services and the thousands of cars trapped in traffic. "Marshal Renalanus, there seems to be many human citizens in this city but there seems to be nothing dedicated to the Emperor." One of the men by his side commented as he observed his surroundings. "It may seem that the people here do not know about the Emperor or even speak our language, but the more we wander and the more people we listen to the more we can decipher the language of the people here. Renalus replied as he continued down the bust street.

Soon Renalus accidentally bumped into a person busy on his phone causing him to drop the device. The man visibly upset shoved Renalus and began to sling profanities at him. "You giant bastard! You made me break my brand new phone! You are going to buy me a new one right now you bastard!" The man yelled. Renalus and his men understood everything he said since they now understood English and one of the sword brethren upset at the man yelling at their marshal picked up the man and slammed him into the wall causing nearby people to scream in surprise. "You dare insult our marshal? We should kill you right now to end your blasphemous life heretic!" The marines hold grew stronger and the man began to struggle for his life.

"Enough brother Dalquiel, I am certain you woke that man up. We are here to investigate the city, not start some trouble without any intel. So let him go." Renalus spoke and the marine quickly let the man go. The man lay on the ground gasping for breath but the marines simply kept moving forward ignoring the injured man who had a few broken bones after being forcibly slammed into the wall by a genetically enhanced super human.

Despite the relatively calm and quiet night on the eastside of Wing City, it was anything but. An ethereal swirl of orange energy found itself opening up in the middle of a mostly empty street, a homeless man nearby watched it closely. He hadn't had any fun in a long time, hopefully whatever he was looking at would be good.

Everyone needed ways to entertain themselves. It wasn't like he could exactly turn on a TV and watch cartoons.

What he was saw was interesting in it's own way. Out of the energy came men and women, humans and the not-so-human, most of them dressed in paramilitary gear of different colors. But they all had the same patch in them.

A firebird. A phoenix.

He recognized it from somewhere but he couldn't place it immediately. But as soon as he saw a certain woman, he knew exactly who these soldiers were.

The woman had dark skin, most of it covered by her black paramilitary jumpsuit and a black overcoat. The left side of her mouth had several distinct scars. That's how he knew.

That was Fatin Alfarsi, leader of the Invictus. They had been gone for a year, but now it seemed they were back. The Invictus soldiers, probably numbering in the hundreds, if not thousands, began to jog up the street towards downtown.

It was time to reclaim what they left behind. Pick up the pieces they never put together.

"Evacuate the area now if you are able, otherwise remain your homes and await instruction. This area is soon to become a battlefield, and you need not lose your life to our war." A voice echoed over loud speaker and could be heard throughout the area.

Not long after, several thousand soldiers marched in rank and file through the city, splitting off to comb it for any and all inhabitants. They would try to forcibly escort everyone they came across with them, leading out of the area. Several larger troops, covered in heavy armor and wielding massive axes or hammers marched at the head of each column. Lighter armored warriors climbed to the rooftops and established sniper nests.

And high above, what appeared to be nine stars shone brightly in the sky.

Several wormholes opened high up in the sky directly above the city, each glowing and swirling with orange energy. Crackling with artificial lightning. They were distracting to say the least, even more distracting were the ships that left them. They seemed to vary in size, dozens of them were extremely large and cast a shadow over the city.

Manhole covers stealthily opened all around the street near the troops marching through, gloved hands rolling beeping cylinders out amongst the foreign invaders before retreating back into the sewer system.

Seconds later the cylinders would explode, sending out an ungodly amount of fire and shrapnel deep into the ranks of the soldiers. But, instead of continuing to expand the explosions would pause, still burning all those that were caught it in.

And then suddenly they would implode, pulling in all those caught in the initial blasts and turning them into charred balls of gore if they were unlucky enough.

Marching in their tight formations as they were, entire swaths of the soldiers were taken out in that single attack. The charred ball of gore however began to burn with an iridescent flame as the soldiers bodies ignited and began the process of resurrection. The stealth of the attack made it difficult to determine it's origin point, and so the majority of the soldiers broke into the nearby buildings and fortified them against attack. Those that didn't manage like such formed into shield rings, every warrior covering their brothers and sisters from all directions and above.

The archers atop the roofs were of keener sight then the warriors, and they had noticed the manhole covers moving. Though they had not been capable of stopping the attack, the open manholes became prime targets. Dozens of arrows crackling red with energy were fired into the manholes, and each one of the arrows exploded like a ballistic missile, filling the sewers with arcane napalm that would attach to all solid materials and burn with magmatic heat until it no longer had a surface to burn on.

"Incoming." One of the Invictus soldiers said, "Back to the tunnels." Another ordered, the soldiers fleeing towards passageways built into the sewer system. The were arrows moved too fast for them to shut the manhole covers and avoid them, abandoning the scene was the only way to survive.

"Hurry!" A soldier shouted from a tunnel entrance, watching as the last of the soldiers sprinted towards him. The arrows hit their mark and exploded, "Just go, we won't get to you in time."

The otherworldly fire closed in on them quickly. It was with a heavy heart that the Invictus soldiers closed up the passageways, allowing their remaining comrades to be burned out of existence in the sewer.

"They're gone, Packmaster." One of the soldiers informed their leader, a young fair-skinned man donning nearly skintight black armor. The rest of his team were dressed identically, all of them armed to the teeth. Walking armories. Which they needed to be. What was happening in the streets above them was a war.

"They had snipers, right?" The Packmaster asked, "Usually when dealing with snipers we bring down their position, but there could be people still inside. And we can't just blow up a building." He continued, "Let's get up to the street and do some recon. Find a way up to them without being seen."

"Move out." He ordered, he and the soldiers scattering throughout the passageways in search of better positions on the surface.

The Archers watched as gouts of flame erupted from the manholes, each satisfied that the underworks had been taken care of for the moment. One of them, sporting a blue sash across their chest, closed their eyes and made a report to their commander.

Enemy forces detected in the underworks of the city. We don't have the normal means of dealing with such, orders.

A few moments after this was relayed the regiment commander looked to the other archers and shouted in their language. "Move forward towards the Plaza, were going to secure it for the impact site, the original zone is too hot."

Without another word the contingent of soldiers, those that remained at least, began marching onward towards the plaza. The recent attacks upon their forces meant that they were now far more wary, and would be much harder to get the drop on.

A heartbeat.

That's all anyone paying attention could hear. Shadows began to bubble and sway to the beat of a heart. The busy city streets were the perfect target for his Legion. A lone man stood atop one of the shorter buildings and looked down over the busy streets and sidewalks. His military uniform was adorned with many pins and medals, and his stature was tall and proud. He had a simple face; cut jaw, short hair, brown eyes, fair skin.

Another person, a female, in a similar uniform, stood closer to the police station's perimeter, staring inside with her own brown eyes and simple face. She turned away, and then vanished into an alleyway of darkness. This would do.

Then all at once, everything shut down. Traffic lights, street lights, cars, trucks, buses, no matter; it shut down. The shadows beneath began to bubble up, and cars began to sink into the streets. From the alley ways, shadowy figures emerged and started sprinting as fast as race-horses in full gallop towards the clueless citizens of the city. Most of them were slender and fragile looking, with jagged, sharp claws on their hands and feet that they used to attack the citizens who were outside of their cars or on the sidewalks. Some were larger and had thick forearms, and they used them to slam into cars, pushing them faster into the puddles of their own shadows that they were sinking into.

If any citizens tried to escape, they'd be met by simple floating beings of darkness with cloaks that flared out to block their path, and the sound of the heartbeat in their heads to drive them back to the fray. From the shadows of fallen citizens, small tendrils would appear, and they would pull the bodies down into the abyss. Tendrils would also appear from the shadow puddles beneath the cars, pulling them down too while the thick-armed Bashers slammed into the machines, pushing them further and faster into the abyss as well.

Thicker, longer tendrils would burst forth from the shadows of the Trappers with their cloaks, and would grab any who tried to push on and escape anyway. The tendrils would attempt to grab their fleeing prey, then kill them by bashing them into the ground as if they were angry children with broken toys.

A smile slowly spread across the military-uniform-clad man on the rooftop's face, and he spoke eight words. "Lord Draco will be Pleased with this harvest."

Deep below the streets of Wing City, where a dark hallow lies, rested a large mass of black and orange fur. It lay on a ball, shifting every so often in the hole it burrowed through the rock and concrete. This ancient being awoke now, disturbed by echoes from above. It moves, with red eyes turning now upwards towards the ruckus. With an angry clattering of its claws as it stands the giant wolf like creature begins its ascension to the surface.

From underneath one of the larger slamming creatures an orange glow can be seen, shortly before an eruption of melted stone and fire bursts forth from the ground in a thirty meter diameter. From this hole sprouts first the head, then the rest of a gigantic black and orange wolf monstrocity. It stood well over 20 feet tall at the shoulder and measured around 45 feet from nose to tail. This gigantic creature roars in anger and shatters the nearby windows with only its voice.

Whisps of flame gather at the corners of this monsters maw before it breaths a gout of orange fire as wide as the street and just as tall. This fire breath would likely burn everything down the entire avenue it was facing, and soon it enough it smashed through sections of nearby buildings as it turned around to do the same attack again the other way.

After clearing the road of living things the wolf raises its face to the sky and howls unlike anything heard before in Wing City, its anger very apparent from just having been awoken.

A smile spread across the Shadowling's face. He raised his hand, and pointed at the fire-breathing creature. Next was a melody of screaming. Hundreds of Screaming Minotaur all wearing heavy armor and wielding ungodly rusted and chipped battle axes charged the creature, swinging their axes while they did so. Each was about half the creature's size and each weight over a ton in total.

"You will make a fine addition to his Legion." the Shadowling snickered as tendrils pulled away the left over cars and carcasses, pulling them into the abyss to be reused and transformed. But why would Draco need cars? Unknown. That was for another time, anther place.

Mighty Tendrils of thick shadow burst forth from the burning buildings and the surrounding alleyways, aiming to coil around the body of the wolf-creature and hold it still so that the Screaming Minotaur may use thier blades to harm it significantly. Once weakened, the Tendrils would begin their mighty pulling, and more would burst forth from the shadow of the Wolf itself to pull it down into the abyss.

"You will be mine, child. I will guarantee you limitless power. I will break your mortal chains and make you immortal. I will be your salvation.

Draco's voice echoed throughout the city and within the minds of all who were open enough to listen. His voice was strong and powerful; echoed by three million years of wisdom, anger, and hatred for those who oppose him.

"Give in, and I will give you everything you ask for."

Screams, while a common occurance around the wolf, were some of the most annoying sounds in the known universe. In the wolfs case it was doubly so, if that were even possible. The echoing melody of these screams caused the large beast to flatten its ears and roar in protest of the noise. It seemed a voice too traveled on the wind. Through the creatures rage it only understood one word, Legion.

The monstrocity cared little for this voice and faced the oncoming attacks with fire on its breath. Before it could make its move however the surrounding shadows latched on, restricting its movements. The wolf pulled against them as it unleashed a full torrent of flame, this time purple in color, which would bind any creature with over twice its own mass. The flames still burnes like normal fire as well, giving the minotaurs a double whammy.

This did not help the wolf escape the shadows however, and it howled in anger is it was slowly brought down onto its belly. The curse in its body began to show now, as sections of its hide turned to mystic stone half molten and crusted with ancient writing and moss. The wolf got even bigger as its curse took hold, growing out to ten times its initial size and weight. Its now 200 foot tall body was pressing out the nearby buildings, and its entire body had gone from fur and fire to an ancient magic stone colossus.

The shadows would have trouble holding down such a giant creature, and its now deafening roar echoes across the city as it tried to sniff out the leader of these shadows to exact pain upon him or her.

A smile, hidden from view, expanded now, as lips peeled back to reveal a set of dagger-like teeth. The Trapper Shadows formed a wall in front of the Bestial Wolf as the Minotaurs who burned screamed even louder, and swung even harder with their axes, trying to now break the stone skin before they died and fell into the abyss of their own shadows. The trapper wall suddenly connected and grew in size; forming one solid wall of darkness.

Two glowing eyes appeared in the darkness. Red coals from the deepest pits of hell itself. "Come now, child. I can free you from this life." Of course, Draco knew nothing of the curse the wolf suffered from; by life, he meant his actual life. Draco wanted this poor child's soul for his Legion; he'd make an excellent addition to his...collection.

The wall before the Wolf began to shimmer and fade as it fell slowly to the ground, revealing Draco himself. One hundred and seven meters tall he towered over the cursed wolf, and that was just at the shoulder. Draco's own maw crackled with lightning of pure hatred and darkness. As the shadowy curtain fell and revealed his body, those awesome wings capable of making this massive lizard fly at sub-sonic speeds crackled with lightning as they slowly spread out to make Draco's already large body seem five times as large. His tail swung back and forth with little to no regard for the buildings in its wake. His scales were blacker than the darkest night, and were thick enough to shield him from most anything.

"Come, now.... I have come to the conclusion that we all want Freedom....I recently attained mine....I can show you your path." Draco's voice rumbled from deep in his maw, while it hardly moved while he spoke.

The colossol wolf stayed its ground as it observed a curtain of black form in front of it. The minotaurs were little more than a tick in his hide at this point. All attention and rage from this beast focussed forwards on the new threat. As its true form was revealed the red eyed darkness would get doused in a torrent of blue mystical flames shooting out hundreds of yards to torch the mass of black. Even the voice seemed to carry no weight over such an instinct driven creature, although from the change of its posture and actions it was obvious that it had some understanding of speech.

Shortly after the voice finished its monolouge and the mystic flames died down, the colossus roared once more in hatred. But instead of attacking, the wolf began to shrink as its stone body returned to that of flesh and blood. Not only did the wolf return to size but it even went another step further, the black and orange wolf shrinking down into the body of a young male humanoid with bright and wild orange hair.

It seems that whatever energy it had been using to remain in such a large state ran out quickly, and even now the once massive being was once again entangled in shadows as its unconscious body became one with the void along with the rest of the devoured city scape.

A sort of offended scoff came from the Dragon's throat as his own body shrank down to the size of a human male, shifting into a similar form dressed in a large black coat as he stood over the body of the unconscious boy as he sank into the abyss. Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Drain his spiritual energy, enough to make exact copies. If he can't handle his own power, he's of no use to our Legion." He said calmly as the man in the black and red military uniform appeared beside him. The man bowed and the boy was dragged into the abyss for all of five seconds before being spit out.

"Pitiful." Draco growled, kicking a stray pebble of gravel at the boy's unconscious body. "Even my weakest child has more energy than this ....mongrel." Another growl of frustration before his body began to sink straight down, becoming liquid and vanishing.

"Drain the rest of the city of its materials and souls. Quickly."

Still unconscious, the cursed male was taken in and drained of his spiritual energy. The only problem with this was that there were two of these energies within the male. One was pure anger and heat, while the other was far more ancient than even this rare beast and had a consciousness of its own. Known by some as Soul Edge, this dark power animated from a sword shard hidden underneath the male's ribcage in the middle of his chest.

Even with these energies drained and weakened, the male began to come too as a pebble bounced his way. Immediately the sound of shattering stone could be heard as the male snatched the pebble in his teeth and crunched it into dust out of rage. The transformation was immediate, and there was to behold the 20 foot high wall of wolfin fur and flesh. As it roar in pain and anger it dug into the concrete, burrowing its way violently down into the subterranian world of Terra. Within seconds it had vanished, heading down towards the hotter parts of the earth in order to lick its wounds and plan out its revenge.

On top of one of the smoldering building overlooking the battle Rin saw the young wolf being drag down to the void. Thinking to himself or maybe it was a faded memory but the void of blackness looks so much like where Rin was born. Bring unwanted memories was the last thing he wanted. Jumping from the skyscraper he was watching from and landed a few paces from a man dress in black. Taking a closer look at him the man seem powerful enough to form a contract with but is he really. With a low voice that seem to be charge with power Rin spoke the first words of greeting.

"My name is Rin Darkstar, and I am sure you can sense that I am not fully human so let's get straight to the point, I need somebody to form a contract with, and what i can see you might be able, to show I'm not a weakling a demastrighting is in order."

Rin lifted his left-hand and form a orb of black and blue arcanic energy, and with a flick or the wrest he fire the orb at the skyscraper he jump from. The orb hit it's mark with and impact that shook the ground even from where they stand, next a column of black and blue flames engulf the building from bottom to top turning it to ash in seconds.

"I will tell you more about the contract ones you think about it more, until than i will watch you have your fun."

Draco paused in his step only as another appeared in front of him. He said nothing and didn't bother to blink as the boy destroyed another building as if it were nothing. It was then that he scoffed. "If you think that small display of force is enough to impress me of all people you are surely mistaken child."

"My weakest child could do the same thing with her wing while stretching out. Now then; what contract do you have in mind?" he asked. He had to admit he was curious what this child could offer him. And already he was thinking of ways to turn the contract around and enslave this...Rin Darkstar to the Legion for an eternity.

One last question, he thought, opening his mouth to speak. "Do you know who I am? As a being of Darkness you should always be....in the know....of those who are more powerful than yourself." Chances were that the boy in front of him knew nothing of who he was. Already his Legion prepared for an assault from all sides on the boy in front of him. The Trappers had formed the perimeter wall already, and the shadows began to boil and bubble.

From beside Draco rose his Shadowling adviser, dressed in his black and red military uniform with medals on his chest. He spoke to Draco calmly: "Si ibleuavi dujzarn wux zexenuma doegel, sia ith. Si shilta ti winev ekik wer gemuth zara jacida bisekim garris."

Draco grunted and nodded, replying: "Tir ti xihood, vrak. Draco tepohaic authot aurthon iacoeni persvek wer boja ekess vucot svabol jaci ui tirir." he and his Shadowling spoke in their ancient Draconian Language; none but a chosen few could understand it let alone speak it. It was a deep and gutteral way of speaking, one that would feel as though one's throat were being torn apart from the inside out while they spoke. Hence why only Dragons and Dragon-kin could speak it.

"Now come, child. Tell me what your contract entails." Draco said, gesturing to a table as it appeared from the bubbling abyss in front of them, complete with stools for chairs.

The engine of a 4x4 growled along the trash-ridden streets of Eastern Wing City as headlights traced along the asphalt. Three men encumbered in olive drab armor and ballistic plating sat on suspended seats as the vehicle passed through an intersection. The man in the passenger seat reached a hand down to a digital screen on the dashboard, gloved fingers parsing through a stream before bringing up a dossier file and turned to the driver.

“Alright, we’re on. Keep on to the apartment block Gangster.” The man replied, soon reaching up to the balaclava that rested atop his forward and dragging the material down across his face until it fit neatly. He reached a hand up to the roof, and pounded a gloved fist into the sparse metal roof. The man sitting in the back seat quickly did the same, turning backwards to smack at the back of the cab as well.

“Yessir Warmonger … we actually gonna’ roll up on this fucker? We’ve barely even been planetside for a day,” The man inquired from the backseat, withdrawing his own balaclava from a small pouch on his waist and resting one palm on the stock of his M-18 assault rifle.

“Control tracked this motherfucker across hell and half of creation for us, I’m not about to let this fucker walk just because he started his own little drug ring.” Warmonger said from the front seat, reaching down between his legs and adjusting the stock of the AC-9m carbine before looking back over to Gangster. The Vendragan began to spin the wheel slowly, rolling the Ground Mobility Vehicle onto a left turn through an intersection as a line of apartment blocks came into view.


In the back of the Saber armored car, three other men sat quietly before they noticed the vehicle shift on its way down the road. One of the fighters pulled on the end of a cigarette, letting out a short sigh. “Shit, guess we finally fuckin’ found the guy.”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah, I don’t care if Warmonger dragged us all across the fucking ALRBAD. That fuckin’ snake got off Alumbechar by selling us down river.” Another spoke from across the cramped compartment, taking the cigarette offered by his comrade and puffing on the stick before passing it.

“Why’re we even bothering chasing this shit stain down and putting a hole in him? He’s just a fuckin’ drug runner now, some Edenite will probably smack a nine into his skull.” The third replied, clutching the cigarette between two gloved fingers. “I say we hit the fuckin’ clubs and get schwifty … maybe score some smack too.”

A dull thud from the front cab alerted the others that they were rapidly approaching their objective, and the fighter stubbed the cigarette out on the floor with a short cough before reaching for the assault rifle across his lap and checking the magazine one last time. He pried back the bolt and chambered a round, before donning the balaclava like his comrades.

“Thief, Marauder, Robber, get your dumb-fuckin’-asses ready, time to make some grass grow.”


Warmonger stretched in the front seat quietly as the Saber trundled down the road on towards a small barricade of armed men and blocked cars. He let out a short curse under breath before reaching a hand onto the center dash and grabbing a small radio transceiver piece. “Shit, tune me in Gangster, I’ll let Prima Donna know we’re about to hit Killboy.”

The driver simply grunted in response, leaning forward in his seat and steering with one hand as he pressed at the controls of a ruggedized comm-set. A dull tone squawked over the radio for a few moments before Warmonger leaned back into the seat and raised the mouthpiece to his face. “Control this is Bandit 2-3 Actual we are moving on Objective Tango, standby for the bang.”

The armored car rolled to a stop in front of three men armed with small machine pistols and carbines, one of them coming around the hood of the vehicle with a confused look on his face as he inspected the vehicle but found no military or government platings that would designate its origin. The man cautiously looked up through the window to see a masked figure in the passenger’s seat, and Warmonger quietly rolled down the window before allowing the man to inspect the three masked men in the front cab.

“What the fuck are you guys doin’, runnin’ around like you about to kick down doors or shit?”

“We’ve got some crates of H for KB,” Warmonger responded shortly, a rehearsed line as he rested one hand out of the window while the other silently went to a handgun nestled to the holster at his hip.

“Killboy ain’t have no shipments of H comin’ in, we’d know.” The man spat back quickly afterward, shifting his weight as he gripped at the wire stock of the machine pistol strapped across his chest.

“Why, you guys lining half of his shit?” The man in the passenger seat replied bluntly as he poked at the man’s chest. He backed off from the affront, and then stepped in close towards the window before his visage furrowed in brief anger.

“Hey fuck you man, you ain’t gettin’ in unless Killboy wants you in. Turn the fuck around before I decide to put a couple rounds in that dumb fuckin’ skull of yours.”

“Whatever fuckboy: plan B, Gangster?” Warmonger said, his words coming briefly before he turned to his left and glanced at the driver. He simply shrugged and gave a dismissive nod back to the passenger beside him. “Yeah I fuckin’ guess Warmonger, never want anything to be easy.”

“The fuck you dumb faggots talking abou -- “ A hand reached out to clasp around the back of the man’s head, and Warmonger dragged his skull into the window before two short handgun shots rang out as the back of his skull was painted onto the ceiling of the cab.

Gangster, in the driver’s seat, quickly pulled out his own handgun and fired another two rounds in the man’s chest beside his own door. Before their bodies had even settled onto the ground both doors to the Saber flung open and the armored men stepped out onto the cold pavement, wielding their firearms at the shoulder as a shrill scream rang out through the apartment complex.

The back doors of the troop transport were flung open next, and three more armored men stepped out before sighting on the first pair of gunmen to come running out into the street drawn by the gunfire. “Got two fuckers on the left!”

“Waste ‘em, Robber!” Marauder yelled out, sliding into a crouch behind the open door of the transport and snapping off a pair of rounds. He was rewarded with a bitter scream as a round tore through the man's thigh and spilt him out onto the pavement. The next one expertly found itself in his forehead and the lifeless body rolled onto its side as the machine pistol fell out of his grasp.

"Make it quick ladies, I want this fucker's body getting cold in the next fifteen minu -- " A line of bullets tore up the street as a team of fighter's suddenly opened up on the Saber and pockmarked the asphalt and vehicles on either side of them. Warmonger was forced into cover behind the trunk of a dilapidated sedan before he could finish speaking. Shards of glass sprinkling over his shoulders as the back window exploded from the impact.

"Fuckin' shit, up on the walkway!" Robber yelled out as he lunged into cover of his own, crouching behind a stone outcropping that housed a dying tree before leaning out and shouldering the M-18 and firing a burst of rounds off. The quick snap of his actions only allowed him to catch one of them in the shoulder, the only one unlucky enough to duck when necessary as they spotted him peering out of cover. The rest pockmarked the stucco and tiling of the run down apartment's furniture.

"I see them, I see them! Where the fuck is Gunman?!" Thief cried out from behind another sedan, hefting his own M-18 over the lip of his cover and blindly firing across the street at the three men. Just as he spoke, the sound of an engine grumbled from down the road as another Saber came barreling through a fence as a man crawled out from the turret built into the roof. A machinegun then began barking as the Saber rushed down the street, crushing one unfortunate man under its rugged wheels before the cacophony of a gun battle rolled through the streets of eastern Wing City.

"Ask and you shall recieve, Thief!" Marauder shouted out as he quickly sprinted away from the tree, running at a crouch as he aimed for the stairway access up to the second story. Another gunman cried out as a machinegun round found him in the torso and coated the wall behind him with a viscous splatter of red and gore before he dropped to the ground. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Thief and Robber then followed Marauder up the stairs, weapons at the ready as Warmonger and Gangster ensured the corpses they left on the ground floor and street were just that before sprinting down to the Saber. The front doors pried open as two other men hopped down from the open bed of the truck, while the GPMG rattled bullets off into the upper stories of the structure to keep the gunmen's heads down.

"Get the fuck up there with Marauder and the others, this is our guy's house." Warmonger began, pointing with a flat hand up to the second story of the structure as three of the masked shooter's sprinted off towards their objective. "No witnesses and no wounds, put a fuckin' round in anything with a gun!"

Gangster quickly hefted his assault rifle into his shoulder and snapped off an automatic burst as he spotted a man attempting to peer down at the group, while the machinegunner in the truck pivoted to find a new target as he cleared a jam in the MG-40B and released a triumphant howl. "Retirement's here motherfuckers, time for your severance package!"

"Crook, Outlaw and Brigand can hold the street! We're gonna' go this we need to do it quick, before the uniforms start showing up!" Gangster called out to the commander, and Warmonger simply smacked a hand on the hood of the Saber as the three other gunfighter's assumed covering positions around the MG truck.

"Alright, let's go Gangster. I'm gonna' fuckin' ventilate this guy myself." He said, motioning for the man to follow as he broke off towards another set of stairs perpendicular to the route the other six took up to the next story. Gangster covered Warmonger as they ascended the stairs, weapons nestled tightly before they crossed into the hallway and then exchanged a brief few shots with a man spraying a hail of bullets down corridor. "Fuckin', shit!"

"I got him," Gangster replied shortly, planting himself against the turn of the corner behind yanking a small hand grenade from his chest rig. He primed it by pulling a small ring and then cooked it for three seconds before tossing it around the corner. "Hot potato, shit stain!"

Warmonger peeked out from the stairs across the landing from Gangster and fired off a few rounds to stumble their opponent before he could scramble from cover, and his scream was drowned out in the deafening concussion of the hand grenade before the bloody stump of a foot landed barely four or five meters from them. Gangster only released a satisfied chuckle before he swept into the hall, smacking the piece of gore away with his foot as Warmonger followed. "Clear left,"

"Clear right -- apartment 201, this is what we want. He's probably rat-holed into the others on the floor so be ready. You got the Vickers?"


Marauder and the other marines were twelve meters down the opposite end of the hall, quickly moving their way of the several corpses they'd just made trying to force the floor while couting off the numbers on the apartments. "210, 211, 212, 213 -- here it is, 213! Raider, work your magic you fucknut!" He called out, pointing to the door as the men began to stack on either side of the entrance. They could hear desperate, terse words behind it and knew they were at least within proximity. One of the gunmen, Raider, quickly peeled off from the wall and hefted a thin square of metal with two hands.

"On it fuck face!" He replied shortly, and stood off the shoulder of Robber before using two magnetic plates to lock the device firmly in the center of the door. "I only got about three more of these so we have to use them sparingly -- "

"Just blow the fucking door you Corsican prick, I wanna' fuckin' waste some rounds already!" Rustler yelled out from behind Thief and Desperado, gripping the furniture of his Vickers Valiant shotgun and racking the pump.

"Appreciate the art of the entry!"

"Shut the fuck up and go already!" Marauder said bluntly before the charge detonated a second later and kicked the door from its hinges. Even as their hearing muted the five gunmen promptly stormed the room, finding three others behind various assortments of furniture and drywall before unleashing a fusilade of gunfire into their respective targets. Before the blood even began running down the wall the five men swept the small hallways and two rooms before Desperado called out from one of the empty spaces.

"Hey these sneaky fuckers are rat-holing these apartments -- get, get the fuck out of there little shit!"

The five men all rushed into the room to find Desperado dragging a youth out as he was halfway between this apartment and the next, soon spinning him over onto his back as Rustler pumped the shotgun once more and then emptied a blast of canister shot squarely into his chest. Desperado and the two closer men quickly jumped in a moment of surprise before letting out a string of curses.

"Jesus Christ Rustler call your shot before you waste a kid! Fuck! Get a fucking hand grenade through that rat hole and clear it!"

Desperado clawed his way through the hole smashed in the drywall and then kicked away the small pistol he found on the other side. The next eight and a half minutes, specifically, were spent repeating the same process of violently infiltrating the rooms with hand grenades, automatic weapons and shotguns before they breached the hole through one final room and found its occupants in various states of death.

"Welp looks like Warmonger and Gangster have been through here already -- do we secure all this intel, or?" Before Thief could finish all five of them looked to the ceiling as they heard the rattle of gunfire over head. As Rustler and Robber peered out the door of the apartment to the next floor they both cursed under their breath.

"God damn does Gangster ever stop killing?! We had five guys and they cleared this room with two! What the fuck, are they magic or some shit?!" Robber shouted out as the men filed out and rushed the stairs to the roof. As they neared the final landing another report went off, and Rustler soon booted open the door as they came spilling out onto the roof.

They were greeted with the sight of Warmonger and Gangster collectively beating on a mountain of a man, blood staining his already ruined tanker shirt as the tattooed behemoth, even for the Gardenites, promptly sent a punch into Warmonger's chest and sent him falling back. Gangster, to the left of the belligerent Terran, pulled his service sidearm from it's holster and pointed it at the man's chest before a swift jab knocked the weapon from his arms. As the two men grappled Gangster sent a flat palm into his elbow, and was rewarded with a sickening crack before the man simply planted a foot into Gangster's chest and sent him flying a few meters with a short kick.

Warmonger had already recovered, and proceeded to smash a brick over the man's head which seemed to do little more than piss the giantesque thug off before he grabbed at the cuff of Warmonger's ballistic vest with his one good hand. The two men were then locked in a grapple once more as the others stood there trying to get a clean shot.

"Jesus Christ that guy's a fucking monster! What the fuck are Terrans feeding their kids these days?!" Thief shouted out, tilting his weapon this way and that as he tried to find clearance for a shot in the melee. "LT did you call the dude's mom a whore or something?! He's fucking pissed!"

"Shut the fuck up Robber -- Warmonger, here!" Gangster shouted, quickly scrambling on the ground until his hands found purchase on a machete discarded on the rooftop. He rolled back over onto his backside, lofting the weapon over his head before tossing it handle first to Warmonger, who then charged the man towards the edge of the tiling and then swinging the weapon over head with both hands.

The blade found the Terran's skull with a sickening crunch, blood immediately pouring from the cleaving wound in his forehead as the hand gripping at Warmonger's vest silently let go before he gave one more miniscule nudge to send the man toppling over the railing and down three stories below into the street. The others all let out a series of triumphant gasps, hoots and cheers before Warmonger spun around to tear the balaclava off his face and wipe away a streak of blood on his jaw. "Shut the fuck up Bandit, we're out of here! Pick up that intel and get the fuck back to Gunman!"

"Holy shit, did you see that? Warmonger just went fucking Sith Lord on that guy!"

"Today, ladies!"


As the ruckous of the gunbattle died away the thirteen masked gunmen quickly filtered back out onto the street, two lines of men going towards each of the parked cars as a fire raged in an apartment on the second story. Gunman, behind the MG-40B, pounded on the roof of the gun truck before sending the signal back to Warmonger and Gangster as they climbed into the cab of their own vehicle. "Anyone hit? Wasted?" Warmonger inquired as he bunched the mask up and tossed it onto the floor of the Saber, still wiping blood from a split lip from his mouth.

"Clean in and out, like fuckin' clockwork Warmonger." Gangster replied, quickly throwing the vehicle into gear and then speeding off behind the gun truck as they exited the same route it had entered. The vehicle bumped slightly as the Saber's tires rolled over the corpses of the men they'd left behind them and quickly sped off into the alleys behind Gunman's vehicle. In the back, the men pried off their own masks before exchanging insults and banter with each other.

"Fuckin' damn I didn't know we still had it in us. I thought Thief would've gotten his ass plugged just steppin' out of the LMT!" Robber chuckled as he dumped a stash of laptops, hard-drives and cellphones onto the floor of the troop compartment. He raised his hand and returned the middle finger Thief threw at him before the three men burst into laughter.

"Fuck that I wouldn't even take a bullet for my own mother -- dude, seriously though, LT fucked a dude up with a sword! Did you shit-eaters see that shit?!"

"Bandit 2-3 has left the scene, I say again, the Bandits have finished the raid."

"Bandit 2-3 this is Control. Prima Donna is going to conduct it's intel sweep."

With that last radio message, Prima Donna hastily exited the building they were conducting overwatch from and formed up into a diamond. Dusk took point, her M303 sniper rifle slung over her back and her pistol at the low ready. Closest to her on to left was Hermes with the communications equipment and to the right was Athens. Bringing up the rear was Anubis, their medic. A quick glance over her shoulder told and Dusk saw her team falling behind by a few paces. "Double time, we only have a few minutes before anyone gets the balls to start looting." She urged and continued pressing on to the first cluster of bodies.

"This is whats left of the checkpoint guards?" Anubis leered whilst taking a knee, his attention turning from the grisly scene. Anubis commence searching the corpses, taking any items of interest they had on them. "Bandit's force was...extreme. " Anubis pointed out, pocketing some blood drenched documents into her bag.

"Shock Marines, Anubis. All I'm gonna say." Hermes added, scanning the buildings.

Dusk reserved her opinions. Prima Donna was a reconnaissance team, they were trained and outfitted to observe and assess. If the job called for it, they were than capable of fighting but not with the sheer force that Baker's boys had demonstrated here. Still the results were there and that was all the justification she needed. "Alright, Hermes and Anubis, stay here. Radio in any movement you see." She gestured towards Athens and moved towards the apartment building.

Inside was more corpses and gore. Bandit 2-3 had been very thorough eliminating their enemies, however this proved to be working against Prima Donna. There wasn't much for her to recover. "Had it been the Bulwark making a bust, it would have been a massacre." Athens commented. "The Bulwark have rules, Bandit doesn't and neither do we." Dusk pointed out. Room after room, there wasn't much of anything for them except bodies and blood. Dusk was beginning to wonder if Bandit had left any intelligence intact for them to pick up or if they had just managed to nab it themselves on their initial sweep. What they stumbled upon next proved to be worth their time.

There was the body of a kid out in the hall, he had a gaping chest wound. Athens cursed while she passed by but Dusk couldn't pull herself from it.

Mars grabbed an incendiary grenade and placed on it top of the bodies. "633rd SRC, Prima Donna Squad. Staff Sgt, William Rein. The invasion thus far has not had many civilian casualties. The Joint Assault Force's measures to prevent civilian loss of life have proven to be effective thus far." He looked back to Dusk and faintly smiled. "Hooah maim?" He pulled the pin and the intense heat alone was enough to push her away from the scene.

"Chief...Chief?....Dusk!"

With a thud, Dusk came back to it. "Stop day dreaming Dusk. Hermes said the Bulwark finally arrived to check the place out. What do you want us to do?".

"We're leaving. Tell Hermes and Anubis to get to the truck and go on without us. We'll find a different way back. Also...Remind me to talk to Baker when we get back, Athens."

R'ystelhar materialized in front of a building. Smog would have filled his lungs his he had lungs. Or any human organ for that matter. He floated along the sidewalk until he came across a gang of misfits. He chuckled to himself as he shifted into a form of a mouth. An eye-covered tongue outstretched towards the gang, scooping them up in one swipe. He promptly assimilated them into, well, him. He grew in size but not by much. He continued to float on by until he found someone of power.

After a while, R'ystelhar stumbled upon a lost child. He chuckled to himself and turned into a fourth dimensional maze, surrounding the young child and causing a good amount of people to direct their attention towards the dark mass holding the child. Many people tried helping the child. Mainly by calling the police, shooting at the black mass, clawing at it, tearing at it. Many people who got too close were slowly assimilated into him. This wasn't part of his plan, as he just wanted to assimilate the young child, but it was a good bonus. To him, at least.

---

Eastern Wing City; Imperium Offices

---

With each step Helisma took down the vaulted hall, she clinked a little. The rhythmic sound echoed off of empty, concrete walls with each footfall. Mostly it was the ornate, jeweled scabard of her Greatsword, fastened at the waist as was tradition, and nearly scraped the ground. The fact she wore her full plate battle regalia didn't help either.

She had hoped to showcase her severite, and respect to the legendary Commissar, but as the long hall ended she felt more than a little overdressed.

"More like out of place.."

Her feeling of unease grew as she reached the door to Cain's office. A plain, unadorned wooden block, with only his name carved at the top. It fit the humble hero she thought, as her gauntleted hand lifted to knock. She paused for a deep breath, and the familiar fear of her Orders looming disbandment crept up her spine.

"No.. Cain is by all accounts a wise man, he will understand.." Her gauntlets creaked as her fists clenched, the words of the Ecclisiarcy's letter seared in her mind. "He must."

Gathering her courage she knocked, brisk and heartily.