Wing City Plaza

Draco was within only a few yards of the Captain as the second beam hit, and the Dragon was forced to the ground. Folding his wings in upon himself. Another crack of bone was heard before the orbital rounds slammed into the area around them, and into him. The city was razed to the ground. Innocents cried out in terror and then were silenced without a second to spare. Draco's roar was drowned out by the rumble of the earth deforming under the stress.

"Checkmate..."

Bu-Bump

"Not Quite." Draco managed to snarl out, his voice more distorted now than ever. Deep within the craters of the bombardment, he began to rise, four legs, claws digging into the ground, wings, battered and torn, spreading out once more as Draco's Kaiju-sized, one hundred and seven meter tall form rose up above the Captain. Blood trickled between the cracked scales, black blood, thicker than the worst radioactive waste, and darker than any shadow could ever become. His eyes opened, and finally, reptilian pupils looked upon the impudent Captain.

"Now You have earned my fury." his voice alone ruptured the eardrums of those unprotected within one mile of his rumbling throat. He took in a long, deep breath, and opened his great maw. His breath weapon gurgled forth. Shadow fire, as hot as it was dark and deadly, it came from his throat like a torrent from the very heavens, stripping away all forms of resistance while simultaneously corrupting the land to no end. The smoke rose and once more darkened the skies, those who survived the bombardment were snuffed out by the flames and then taken into the abyss.

The land was dead or dying, the rubble was even being stolen by the Legion of Shadows to be used to build Draco's citadel palace. And still the fire continued to rage as it poured from Draco's maw, consuming the land and turning it into nothing but death.

The captain did not seem fazed by this, as the fire was about to reach him he simply rose to the air using the red wings on his back. Looking across the land he knew it had to be purged, and looking at the creatures true from he knew what needed to be done. "All batteries...fire....Purge the entire area..." With his order, multiple ships fired orbital beams at the creature and many smaller cannons and lance lasers.

The captain himself held up his sword after he had retrieved it before it could be destroyed. "There is no one inside your range...No more people shall be taken...Now you face my full wrath as well..." The captain spoke as he used the last of his energy and tore a hole in reality, a massive portal leading to the immaterial realm was opened up threating to send both the captain and Draco to the Warp. Once anyone entered that hole, there would be no coming back to this realm easily. He could feel many of his internal organs explode inside his body as he did this. However with one last effort he used the Gate Of Infinity to return back to the ship before he did meet his end here.

Draco's analytical eyes watched the man, the rounds and lasers only just scratching his scales now as he watched the man with an idle growl. The Dragon's eyes widened as the portal in Space as opened, and acted immediately, feeling the pull upon his body. He locked his claws into the earth and shrank down to his human form again, sinking quickly into his own shadow without a second's hesitation. Neither of them had officially won that battle, but with the toll taken on the Captain's body, Draco likely won.

Searching the Realm of Shadows for an opening to the Captain's ship, he let out his cackle again, his voice ringing out throughout the minds of the command ship's crew. "Well fought, Captain Cysius, but if your body is falling apart from your own magic; perhaps you should reconsider occupations." he growled out.

With that, he was gone, off to lick his own wounds, metaphorically, and immediately set up counters to the Captain's magic abilities and those of his comrades.

This was not over; and would not be over until Darkness covered the entirety of Terra for five thousand years.

With the threat averted for now, the Imperial guard returned to the scene as they looked over the plaza which was now riddled with burning craters from the orbital blasts. They would soon return to work rebuilding, upping the amount of garrisons around and even implementing a machine to make any magical attempts at entering the planet impossible. They would then begin to work constructing even more defenses.

The Space Marines onboard the ship treated their captains wounds, and he himself already began to process his knowledge on the enemy. A new threat, a powerful enemy. However he knew he was more closer to reviving the emperor and finding the Lost Primarchs. He may not be able to win next time, but the next time he knew someone else would be ready.

The Imperium knew the enemy would return, but they would never allow the enemy to claim this world. They would keep it safe for the Imperium, as this world would help find a hope they are looking for.

Once just one that had encountered Carnaelgaar with the entry of Myrkul into Genesis more poured themselves across the Way. A sealed psionic conduit that proved more difficult to maintain with some unknown interference building. The Jinhai had not yet a force that they could respond with to defend this world of mankind but once the danger to the collective person had passed the dozen or so black-robed Jinhai spread out to quietly acquire damaged imperial guard. They couldn't rekindle bodies where the throne of mankind, the head, was destroyed but there were a few still undamaged enough. Cognizance crystals to fuel the effort were stockpiled near a disused refrigerated warehouse that housed meticulously sorted human charnel. They took the effort to leave little evidence of their passing though while staying out of obvious notice they didn't take any hostile actions of their own if seen. Many sealed simple injuries as they went along and ended up with impromptu medic vests given by beleaguered city paramedics.

As crews open up rubble from outside ruined buildings some had a single undamaged hallway for carrying charnel back under cover. The other sign that would likely make them noticed would be guard laid unceremoniously in the street next to where their comrades still remained. The Psykers proved more difficult to raise as the Jinhai found them distasteful with the warp's taint. Only the psykers that still lived had compatible parts cleaned of antigens welded on. The deceased among psykers were discarded their parts unfit. The Jinhai refused to talk to them. The guard were asked if they knew where the Living Emperor was but the Jinhai were otherwise busy and other than responding with fabricated food and drink when asked ignored questions.

As the Guardsman went onto repairs, they would notice the strange cloaked figures albeit in quick one second glances. They were already on edge after the battle, however these strange figures seemed to be friendly for now, delivering aid to the wounded.

Of course, once they started asking questions about 'The Living Emperor' they would have mixed reactions. For some of the level headed guardsman, they would ignore the question and refuse to answer, for some of the more religious guardsman they would have their mouths sealed and refuse to talk to not be heretical. However the most religious of the guardsman, like a priest they preached about the Emperor and how he remains on a planet known as Holy Terra, a bastion of light against the tide of Chaos.

Of course, their presence was tolerated, but they did not have to be nice to strange alien creatures.

When Jinhai found the guardsman with knowledge of the Living Emperor they conferred to decide upon a course of action. It was agreed that mankind would have a better chance at delivering Myrkul's offering. This resulted in a quick assembly of a fairly large pure white psystone case in which to place a large cognizance crystal acquired upon one Jinhai's return to terra. The material while particularly fragile insulated against physical psionic contact as to not immolate the guard's mind upon touching the crystal. Wen often mixed the material into armor for their duties. It proved far more difficult to push across the Way however without a proper entrance constructed. That would take time.

The cognizance crystal itself contained a burden of power that could be shouldered by an Alpha psyker certainly not a low defender even if it could be extracted all at once. The well of Myrkul's Vein was pale so while the energy did not tear at one's mind like the warp did it proved difficult to consume a whole sack of the sickly sweet power all at once. The viscous flow was nevertheless prodigious enough to choke to death the mind of a non-psyker or even those able but unprepared.

They sealed the container with a steel cable attached to the handle telling the guard with the words etched into the programming of their psyche, "Then deliver this for Myrkul's Vein unto Him, mankind. Thus our tithe to the Living Emperor resumes. Only Him and His are worthy. Our Emperor of Mankind has fallen, long live the Emperor of Mankind."

The Jinhai returned to their duties installing a new arm onto the healthy stump of a guard. While they could keep the target from moving and numb the procedure somewhat the howl of pain from grafting a replacement limb onto the mind was sometimes deafening depending on how it had been removed.

For the Imperial Guardsman, the sign that strange xeno creatures venerating the Emperor was a welcome sight. And even more they seemed to have a gift to the Emperor himself, whatever it was it was a sealed container and they dared not to open it yet. However to enter the Imperial Palace was impossible for simple guardsman, let alone even a space marine.

However they knew two people nearby, their commanding officer and the captain of the Blood Ravens. Immediantly the seargent of the squad waved over the Vox opperator and began to vox in Imperial command. "Come in Command, we have a high priority request. We need to talk to the Commisar immediately."

Within a few second a voice answered. "Report Guardsman.

"Sir, we have a package addressed to the Throne Room."

"A package addressed to the Emperor himself? This sounds suspicious."

The Guardsman thought for a second, unlike space marines they were not highly suspicious or xenophobic. "Sir, the Blood Ravens have acquired something that may help the Emperors revival process. The Captain himself was highly injured after defending it from a demonic creature." They lied.

The Commisar thought for a moment, it was not wise to question something coming from a space marine. If it needed to be delivered to Holy Terra then so be it. "This is a high priority task, report to the nearest shuttle and arrive back on an awaiting Imperial Battleship. We move to Holy Terra immediately."

With that the guardsman went to work, decorating the container with purity seals and making it look more Imperial in origon besides some random container. They then had the cargo transported by a heavy armored regiment complete with a Baneblade and Lemen Russ Battle Tanks along with mechanized infantry. The cargo was now en-route to its destination.

Any bodies found within the rubble by then would be half-pulled into the Abyss of their own shadows, and to retrieve them, alive or dead, would be an enormous struggle, as they would have to fight against no less than five, quarter-inch thick tendrils pulling the bodies down into their own shadows, which by then were sludge-like and devoid of all light.

Another Figure in black, one of the Shadowlings, a female this time, with dark black hair tied into a pony tail and a black military uniform adorned with ribbons and medals, stood far off in the distance, merely observing. If spotted she wouldn't move, but if fired upon or attacked or approached, she would move out of sight without a sound.

The remaining Guardsman in the area still able to fight did their best to fight off the black tendrils that threatened to snag away their allies corpses. "I can't believe I am saying this! But by the Emperor do I wish there were Sisters Of Battle here! All units open fire! If they grab you full the pins on frag grenades! They will never take our bodies! Not even a strand of hair will be left!" The Commanding officer of the area called out and they all followed orders.

Guardsman that would be pulled would pull on frag grenades reducing them into little more than unsavalgable paste. Pins of corpses were pulled to deny the enemy any soldier. It was a disheartening thing to do but it was a fate better than what the enemy had in store for them. "Fight on Guardsman! Show them the might of the Guard! One day they will know never to mess with the Imperium ever again! For they will all suffer death in the end! For the Emperor!"

At the fleshweld Jinhai heard the call of the emperor's men. Mankind sighted demons and with the advent of a Tithe the Jinhai felt obligated to respond to their call in defense of the Living Emperor. Others did encounter tendrils in the rubble itself but went about their business anyway removing as much of the bodies as they could to add to their well sorted charnel. The fleshweld repaired what was missing if the throne of the mind was undamaged. As shadows ate more and more of what remains Jinhai began extracting intact spare parts of the recently dead from field hospitals. The black smoky motes that made a Jinhai's hand made an effective blade to chew material free without the shroud. It left a perfectly smooth if not straight cut whenever they sliced parts free. The dim grey light that shroudless amorphous Jinhai cast while pushing through rubble left them with no shadows themselves. Tendrils touching their mass found thousands of microscopic glowing pincers biting at the interloper.

Whole guards now capable of moving in recovery mobilized as Jinhai gave them back their weapons. Six Jinhai then dispersed in teams of two off at bent-legged gliding run across the landscape wincing guardsmen huffing in tow behind them. The others continued their work at the fleshweld. Many had limbs that once weren't theirs. Their silty voices loud yet unperturbed by the effort shouted in deep baritone, "BY THE WILL OF THE EMPEROR AND MANKIND BE DRIVEN."

They were not creatures of order but ones of structure. Impartial in their nature as much as their powers built they could also dis-incorporate. Once in range of the guard's target raised their hands a green light cracking the shroud of their arm. A green projection of disintegrative force blew out of their hand on its way to tear at the bonds that held structure together. Their other hand is used much the same but it takes time for the shroud to reincorporate for either to fire again. Dead motes fall in sheaves of wispy smoke to the ground with every blast.

Light.... Sounds.... It was coming back to Alice. Waking up, she found that the building was partly destroyed.

Urgh... My head. Why is it hurting?

She said as she looked around. There wasn't a trace of the Orb that she had found before her "death". Yet her head was in extreme agony, like a switchblade to the ribs. Alice staggered outside to see a Police car parked outside. Seeing a Police Constable, she decided to approach him to find out what had happened.

This is Constable McIntosh. I found a body inside some burnt out building. 17 year old Female. Asian-Canadian racial. Location is Wing City Plaza. Looks like suicide, but I might be.....

McIntosh said on his Radio as he reported finding Alice's lifeless body. As Alice approached him, his expression turned to shock.

I'm gonna call back in... 10 minutes. Over.

McIntosh said as he saw Alice. Putting his radio down, he approached Alice, putting his hand on her shoulder.

I'm not sure how you regenerated from a bullet wound in the head lass, but you've either got a Guardian Angel that saved you, or a bloody healing factor like that guy in the Red Spandex suit that's going around killing people.

McIntosh said as he took his hand off Alice's shoulder and walked over to the building. Looking around, he then turned back to Alice.

What's your name lass? Only asking for reports.

McIntosh asked.

Alice hesitated, before saying it.

Alice Fong. But Constable, what do you know of Inhuman's?

Alice asked as she approached McIntosh.

Inhuman's? They've been extinct for 30 years. Wiped out in the battle of Wing City. Why do you ask Alice?

McIntosh replied, his curiosity level rising. But why would a 17 year old would ask about a race she's possibly never heard of?

I met a Samurai in the future. I was brought there by him. He told me that I absorbed some energy from an orb and that energy contained Inhuman energy. But when I woke up, he was gone. I don't know why I'm still alive.

Alice replied.

A Samurai? What, like a 17th Century one?

McIntosh replied.

Correct. He showed me what the future would be like without me. Apparently there was Wing City's destruction by nuclear bombing, planets being destroyed, and then.. nothing. An empty void of darkness. But this Samurai, he told me of a gro- Argh!

Alice said, before violently falling to the ground, clutching her head.

Alice? ALICE! Shite... I'm gonna regret doing this.

McIntosh said as he rushed towards Alice. Grabbing a wooden staff, he placed it next to Alice.

Come on! I'm not letting you die again!

McIntosh said as he started checking for a pulse. He then started thumping on her chest to keep her alive.

The Staff..... Give it. To me.

Alice said. McIntosh grabbed the staff and placed it in Alice's hands. Suddenly, a bright light surrounded Alice and temporarily blinded McIntosh. When he could see again, he saw Alice, but in very different clothing. Her previous clothing was a school uniform. Now, it consisted of a dress with a slit on the right side, black leggings, purple boots and black short gloves. Her hair had changed colour from Blond to Black with some Purple Highlights. Her face had Gothic-like makeup on her eyes and lips, with a mark on her face with that of a Inhuman mark.

Where... Where am I? What is this place?

Alice asked herself. Yet this wasn't her body. It was the body of an Inhuman.

Scientists have theorized that different colours, different patterns, can trigger emotional responses, or unbalance the human mind. The right patterns at the right speeds can, hypothetically, completely alter a human being to the core. Each colour supposedly corresponds to a set of emotional stimuli. Apparently Red is anger, hatred, violence, and vitality.

---

All Heather could see however, all she could feel, was the sweet young girl from Asland. Chloe. They met on the dance floor, struck up a conversation about mixing Loa, and Molly after Chloe had mistaken the haggard lawyer for a dealer. They trolled for a plug together for awhile, toyed with the men who showed interest, and when they finally got a hook up they went into the Women's Restrooms to pop it together.

Chloe was fun, she was young, early twenties, a dirty blonde still putting off college for the sake of partying. Naive. Almost innocent. She was everything Heather had never gotten to be, but now.

The first explosion rocked The Magician's Secret like a Nuclear device, drowning out the bone-shattering thrum of the bass-line. It was so brief, but so deafening. Just one quick, horrific, sickeningly wet CRACK, and then..

Chloe was all over her, soaking through the skimpy black prostitute's outfit that clung to Heather's skin, oozing down her thighs, her legs, coming to puddle in her stilettos, dripping from her drenched hair. She could feel it, like paint, drying and crusting in every pour of her skin. It had even filled her mouth, coating it with the taste, the texture.

Bitter copper, and iron, a trace of vomit, and the faintest hint of Chloe's perfume.

---

Heather's ears rang painfully as her senses slowly returned. Whatever the blast was had thrown her to piss, and gore soaked linoleum floor, she could feel that her left leg was broken, but for some reason it didn't hurt. Nothing did, not even the shards of glass that bit into her palms as she pushed herself up.

All feeling was gone.

For a long moment Heather stared into the remnants of the mirror in front of her, the crimson-painted woman in the cracked glass seemed like a stranger at first. She couldn't process anything, least of all time. It felt like an eternity, but it only took several minutes for her to realize it was a reflection, and once that set in, so did her nervous system. Feeling came back like a tidal wave.

Pain, terror, she emptied her stomach into the sink involuntarily, a thick, slimy chunk of human gristle going along with it. A piece of Chloe. Another wave of stomach churning illness hit, but another sickening crack drew her up short of retching.

She turned just in time to catch the source, a middle aged woman had been bolting for the door. It only took a second, mercifully. One blink the woman was there, the next nothing but a shower of crimson, bone, and viscera. The blast was so violent that the human refuse was propelled blindingly fast, another big splatter hitting Heather.

She heard bones hit the wall, the ground, the crackling sound they made. Now panic set in.

Moving as fast as she could with a shattered femur she lurched for the door, skating through the muck that used to be people. Just as her fingers touched the slick brass of the knob, just as hope dared to race through her heart for a splint second, she heard it.

A laugh. Simple, feminine, light. Something that could've been soothing, or enticing in a different scenario.

"Well, well, you're still standing?" It was melodic, bordering on sing-song, and heavily infused with magic. Heather's skin rippled with each syllable, as if a warm, misting breath of a lover cased every sound. "I really thought that the first one knocked you clean dead, but this is good. This way.." Heather turned to face the origin of the enchanting voice, much against her will.

A woman, younger than her, stood mere inches from her. She hadn't heard a sound, or felt the air shift, but there she was. Tall, pale, with exotically dyed hair, done up in a Fallen Angel style. She was dressed as something like a cross between a modern goth, and a raver, her porcelain-looking skin was etched with a myriad of glowing, pink tattoos.

The malice in the stranger's eyes betrayed her magically altered voice.

"..I can play a bit." She laughed again, shriller this time, but just as inviting. Heather could feel her face flush despite the horror, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach. It made her want to puke all over again, it was so against her will, so grating against the horrors surrounding her.

Repulsion set in at the violation, and the pink woman could apparently feel it, judging by her mocking laughter. "Come on now, honey." she took a step closer, Heather attempted to step back, but she hit the counter. She was trapped. "You're gunna die anyway, why not have some fun on the way out?"

The lawyer wanted to scream, run, kick, bargain, anything to get this pink-eyed psycho away from her, but it was hopeless. She couldn't move more than an inch, and already Pinky was closing in on her. Heather knew she'd been hexed, or enchanted, or something, but she was just a normal person, she had no clue of how to fight back against the arcane. Not like this. In a courtroom, sure? But in this hellhole?

A thousand thoughts flooded her mind, "Who is this psycho?" "Why aren't the police here already?" "Why is she doing this?" "Why me?"

None of it seemed to matter as Pinky stepped in, slithering one glowing, burning-hot arm around her waist, pulling Heather in tight against her attacker's pulsing frame. Her skin crawled in horror, she weakly attempted to resist, to thrash, to at least look away, but it was pointless. Pinky's free hand shot up, grabbing her face roughly, and forcing her to stare into her attacker's arcane eyes.

"Now, now, none of that honey. Just relax.." The venom in her voice was so repugnant. "I'll make you feel so good before I kill you. I promise. Just lean back," she pushed Heather a little, forcing her against the counter even harder. Instinctively the helpless victim reached back, bracing on the granite. "And enjoy.."

With that final mockery, the assailant leaned forward, her lips brushing against Heather's neck.

RED

Time slowed down again, but differently this time. The violent well of the human survival instinct had been tapped into, and Heather Lynch, Lawyer of ill repute, but grade-A results, switched into auto-pilot mode.

With a speed she didn't know she possessed, her fingers curled around a hefty shard of glass on the counter, and with a singular, fluid jerk of her arm it found itself buried in Pinky's shoulder.

The sorceress shrieked, a fountain of blood erupting as Heather withdrew her makeshift weapon. "YOU BITCH!" she shrieked, fists clenched, and lips in a snarling. "I'm going to burn you down into nothingness from the inside fucking ou-"

Heather struck again, a single, sloppy slice across the woman's throat. The mage stumbled back, clutching at her throat as a curtain of blood spilled out, her eyes bugged, and filled with hate. With anger. Rage. Somehow this woman was pissed at Heather for defending herself. That's when everything inside the lawyer snapped.

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!", Heather launched herself forward, shrieking her protest as shrilly as possible, punctuating each with another slash, or one more stab. Again, and again she lashed out at her attacker. The glass shard biting bone-deep into her palm, but she didn't care, she was in a wild frenzy. It felt like seconds this time, but this brutality continued for ten solid minutes.

Early in the pink-wizardress had collapsed to the ground, dead, but Heather kept slashing, kept stabbing, kept screaming as hot, bitter tears burned down her cheeks, washing off little rivulets of Chloe.

---

Everything was a blur. She didn't know when she stopped hacking up the corpse, she didn't know exactly when Pinky had died. She had no idea how she got up, and out of the bathroom. How she navigated the blood soaked halls of The Magician's Secret was a miracle, but she did.

She made it out, she survived, somehow.

The cold night air hit her like a truck, the pool's worth of blood she was soaked in steamed visible. She didn't even notice the flashing red, and blues, the sirens, any of it. She was oblivious until someone shouted at her.

"FREEZE!" An officer, weapon drawn, stared at her in abject horror. She turned to him, slowly, expression blank. "HANDS UP!" She stumbled forward. "I SAID HANDS UP, IF YOU TAKE ONE MORE STEP..!" Somehow she had the wherewithal to comply, but it was a mistake. She was still clutching the hunk of glass. "PUT THE WEAPON DOWN, NOW! IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY, I WILL FIRE!"

Another stumble forward, her lips mouthing the words "Help me.", but the rookie officer didn't notice, couldn't. As soon as she had moved again, he took aim.

"LAST WARNING, STEP BACK, AND DROP THE KNIFE!"

Her arms went limp, and she stumbled forward one last time, still trying, in her mind, to crawl to help.

bang

I stared down at the woman beneath my feet.

"Y-you're a monster!" she shrieked

"Says the one holding the gun." I chuckled and transformed back into human form.

Bo exited the Society structure on her way into the plaza, trying to keep her head down. She was in street clothes of some loose denim shorts that she had to belt to hold up and a t-shirt, grey with a cartoon rabbit on the front. Her race seemed androgynous to others, which made her at least a little okay with her currently clothing, but really she couldn't wait to get back into her assassin gear or a dress. She felt so exposed.

Nadya had been biking around Wing City hanging flyers that cheerfully encouraged people to vote for her! They were, uh, very artistic, given her age, and posted everywhere she could. The preteen paused as she recognized her friend and she biked over, tiny wagon attached to the back of her bike, full of campaign supplies. "Bo! Hey Bo, what's up!"

She beamed. "Want to help me put up posters and signs? I even got yard signs!"

Nadya had been biking around Wing City hanging flyers that cheerfully encouraged people to vote for her! They were, uh, very artistic, given her age, and posted everywhere she could. The preteen paused as she recognized her friend and she biked over, tiny wagon attached to the back of her bike, full of campaign supplies. "Bo! Hey Bo, what's up!"

She beamed. "Want to help me put up posters and signs? I even got yard signs!"

Bo jumped when she heard her name, fur standing on end for just a moment before she calmed down and turned about to look at Nadya. "Oh, hey Nadya," she said as she shuffled her awkward upright steps towards the girl, "Signs? Posters...?"

She reached out to grab one of them and gave it a look over. "Uh, what are these for? I didn't know orphanages had elections..." she mumbled the last few words more quietly, as not to offend. Oh shoot right! She was supposed to be acting cute. "Nya~?" she added, biting back the bile in her throat.

Nadya giggled at this. "No, for Mayor! I'm running for mayor!" Nadya swung her arm around wide, gesturing to the city around them. "For all of Wing City! I didn't even need a permission slip." She smiled brightly. "Remember? You're my running mate. That makes you the Vice Mayor!" She thought that must be the right turn. Still, Bo didn't look so hot. "Hey, want to ride in the wagon?"

She looked like she could use a wagon ride. Nadya brightened. "We can go down a big hill, if you want?" That was always fun.

Fur stood up on the back of Bo's neck as Nadya insisted on being mayor. "Er... I thought that was just for pretends 'n stuff," she said, "I mean, they don't really let orphans be mayors do they? I thought that was for rich snooty people..." That being said, there was something to do with an angel in the gardens...

A paw slapped to her forehead as it all sank in, and she really couldn't let Nadya down, but this was just one big setup for disaster. "Yeah I think I wanna go down a big hill." And crash and die so she could get out of it. She slowly climbed into the wagon and sat like any feline would with her butt and all four paws touching the floor.

"It'll be fun! Though it's super weird. Like, even foreigners can run, and that's no good..." Nadya began to bike, and called over her shoulder. "But apparently I need a platform? Like, some sort of cause or promise or something I'm running on and I don't think that it's fun is the right answer." The girl headed to a good sized hill. She wasn't gonna crash. She was a good bicyclist.

"What should our platform be Bo?" Nadya considered what is could be. Maybe make Wing City safe, or improving public transport or something.

Despite not having much of a height difference, their age difference was starting to seriously show to Bo, and also she was starting to get worried about the size of the hill. Fortunately she had never read any saturday morning paper comics about crashing sleds so she wasn't too worried.

"Well, I think ya gotta pick stuffs you believe in, 'cuz otherwise people won't find you sincere'n stuff, but politicians also lie a lot... So uhm... Better orphanages and pigeon pie for everyone?" Man, Vidious would be way better at this. He knew politics.

Nadya got to the top of the hill and hesitated a moment. "I know we won't actually get elected. That's just silly. Instead...Instead maybe changing the standards to common sense ones. This like being an adult and a citizen." She pointed out. "I mean, i think a pigeon could be mayor right now. And pigeons belong in pie." She had eventually come around to pigeon pie. Eventually.

The girl glanced back to Bo. "Are you ready to go down?"

Bo peered over the edge of the hill, then at Nadya and grinned. "Maybe you can win. Let's do it!" She was going to wait until they were at the bottom to tell Nadya her idea... Which would mean going back up the hill but she wasn't thinking about that right now.

Nadya burst into giggles and kicked off and they went soaring down the hill! The ride was incredibly bumpy and they were lucky it wasn't very busy right now. Nadya screamed in delight as the wind hit her, flowing through her hair and cause her to burst into gleeful giggles as she kept them relatively straight.

Of course, she had forgotten one thing: Stopping.