Central City (The Final Zone)

[Ridley]

The atomic fires burning through Megatron’s chassis were observed with a sadistic pleasure by Ridley. He held no attachment to his former title as unmade general, nor had he felt any particular malice for the Decepticon - as a matter of fact, he looked forward to seeing if this wretched, deathless universe spat out a potent ally against the unmaking in a few months, calling for Darkseid’s head himself.

There was simply something satisfying, defeating a commander crowing of his own power and authority, by using his own machines to do it. Darkseid had given him power, and Megatron’s own loyal subject had sacrificed everything to create an opportunity.

Still, their numbers ran low. Phantoon and Ridley saw Slattern’s rampage, and though the beast was covered from head to toe in wounds, the creature still ran through kaiju and troops alike with the energy of a fanatical monster, a beast possessed by the rage only the unmaking could provide.

They could likely crush the beast through attrition, over the next few hours, and As Ridley and Phantoon observed the beast, the thought came over both of them to leave the rest of the heavy lifting to the others. They’d accomplished their goal.


The Ridley that had initially entered this competition would have allowed it.

But for all this war had taught the Drake about utilizing his pieces well, and acting as a commander, it had reminded him of something he had known all along.

His warriors respected strength, craved intimidation, and coveted their commander’s divine presence on the battlefield. And while they may all grow to fear him as he spread his wings in the coming dawn, for now, as the unmaking rolled in, they were all his soldiers, and he their king - even those who knew it not.

“Phantoon-” RIdley’s tones cut through, before being cut off with a mirthful laugh.

“I know, Ridley. Do it. Cut them down.”

The eldritch entity lacked Ridley’s ambition, yet it had been insulted, twisted, wounded in the course of this battle. Darkseid had treated it as a nuisance, had invaded it’s territory. Not all of it’s time through the ages had ever robbed it of the vital emotion of spite.

“Then lend me your power!” the god of death howled, as Phantoon rumbled into action, charging directly for Slattern’s newly-made blindside.

A claw strike raked the creature’s blind side, as Fire rippled across Slattern’s body. The Leviathan turned to whip the pair with it’s massive tail, but the strike simply passed through Phantoon’s body as it let out a primal roar. Reptilian quickness complimented it’s abnormal power as Ridley helped drive Phantoon’s response time, and the pair danced around Slattern with laughable ease, Phantoon’s Astral claws cutting into the abomination’s flanks as the duo fell into a sync.

Phantoon was one of the ancient beings of the universe, malevolence made manifest, and had manifested itself with a god who’s fangs had been sharpened on battlefields across the universe - between the two, Slattern may as well have been standing still!

Slattern howled as he turned to face them in a blind charge - Phantoon’s eye blasted ring after ring of fire, the barrages raking across the Kaiju’s face and leaving it practically unrecognizably melted, yet it seemed not to notice. Phantoon readied to phase out of existence again, easily avoiding the Unmade Leviathan’s attack - or, tried to. Something akin to a nauseous break wracked through their body, as Phantoon cried out in pain.

“what?!” Phantoon cried out, a mixture of fear and outrage.


Ridley noticed the problem first. Phantoon was not used to injury, yet even now, wisps of energy flowed freely from the wound Megatron had marked them with before. This was no minor wound, though Phantoon had shrugged it off.

Wordless communication flowed through them, understanding met, frustration found. They could not escape a collision with Slattern - not by guile. It was a wonder Phantoon could hold himself in the material dimension at all right now.

“Phantoon.” Ridley gruffly barked.

“Ridley.”

There was a relaxation, a gradual lowering of a barrier that had been held long. A barrier of rage and paranoia that held the pain and desperation that clung so closely to Ridley’s heart. Moreover, it had been kept as a snap-defense - one aimed not against Darkseid, but for the power-hungry parasite.

“My energy, Parasite. Use it well.”

Phantoon’s own glowing pleasure - and anticipation - was tempered by the very real threat of Slattern’s jaw opening and threatening to swallow them whole.

“A joy to feel it operate under my whims… very well. Shall we enlighten Darkseid?”

“Enlighten?”

“that he has crossed Gods.” Phantoon spoke, audible enough for the entire island to hear the proclamation.

Dark purple energy snaked around Phantoon’s form, wrapping the Beast in a smog of raw power. One that grew nearly as large as slattern itself, as Claws took form, grabbing the Beast’s face and pushing it back with a primal screech.

The Draconic simulacra was certainly far more ethereal, cloudy, and indistinct than the real Ridley - but the fire that burned in it’s maw was no less potent as the Beast opened it’s jaws and unleashed a torrent of plasma, the screaming Slattern left baked as the flames seeped into the already supple flesh. Where dragonfire had already burned, The Space Pirate duo’s Barrage melted, and for the first time since the confrontation began, Phantoon and Ridley saw Slattern visibly shrink.

The phantom form of Ridley shrank, vanishing almost as soon as it began, but the Damage to Slattern’s form was easily seen as it struggled just to float in place.

RIdley would have had a taunt, an angered shriek, or a primal howl of victory to reply with, but as the now-withered pirate struggled to keep his consciousness open, he contented himself with the thinnest of smiles.

Phantoon’s dark laughter, however, echoed in the minds of anyone misfortunate enough to be near the empowered Kaiju.

1005 words.
Used 1 focus For Phantoon to suck Ridley’s stamina dry through a silly straw and make a temporary giant energy dragon to beat up Slattern.
GG everyone!

 

[Karl Jak]

The war had raged. In a past life or a parallel reality, Central City was a one-of-a-kind metropolis, the likes of which had never been seen before in its given world. In some places, its population was anthropomorphic animals. In others, they were gallant men and women who had the strength and wisdom to help shape the world into a better place. Or, for all the observers knew, this Central City had been an undiscovered city in the oceans of Opealon, and it had been swallowed whole by the Unmaking before it could leave a footprint on the Crossroads. At this rate, no one would know, save the man in the purple suit, and he had a knack for leaving some things unresolved.

The once-thriving metropolis, with its towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, had been reduced to a landscape of devastation and despair. Once gleaming symbols of hope and industry, the city's skyscrapers now stood as jagged, broken monoliths. Their glass windows lay shattered and their facades were pockmarked by half a dozen different types of ordinance. Many had crumbled entirely, leaving behind mounds of rubble that blocked once-busy streets, and those that still remained looked like more than glorified cairns of smoldering steel.

A thick haze had already settled around the ravaged cityscape. Broken Bonds lay in silent repose. For those, their war had drawn to its conclusion. For others, their struggles, in these moments, likely seemed to transcend time.

The cityscape was ablaze with chaos as Megatron, the indomitable leader of the Decepticons, stood tall and menacing amidst the rubble. His cold, crimson optics gleamed with a ruthless determination as he surveyed the devastation around him. Fools who had conspired against him surrounded him on all sides, and while his body heaved and crackled with the remnants of molten slag and dislodged mechanical pieces, he stood resolute. Debris and sparks from damaged machinery littered the scorched earth, a testament to the brutality of the conflict.

Megatron's massive fusion cannon mounted on his right arm hummed with deadly energy, ready to unleash its destructive power at a moment's notice. His metallic frame, adorned with jagged edges and sinister insignias, exuded an aura of malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of all who dared to oppose him.

“You cannot stand against me,” he rasped as he eyed Redsky and the nameless fools who still drew breath around him. “I’ve already won.”

Redsky tilted her head and gestured to the forces assembled against the Deception. “It’s over. Stand down.”

A laugh.

“I’ve already won.”

***​

On a small knoll that overlooked much of what had once been Central City, a pair of Bonds stood silently and watched the drama continue to unfold a few miles from their position.

“You’re certain that the best strategy is to simply stand here and watch?” Gilgamech scowled as he asked the question. “Certainly, our involvement could have already ended this endeavor?” He event took a small step forward before a red palm pressed gently into his gilded, night-impenetrable chest plate.

“Holl’up, Pard’ner.” Deadpool, even as an oversized mech-themed version of himself, still sounded like an imbecile as he attempted another terrible take at his trademarked Artpool accent. “Jus’ let ‘em cook. Just let ‘em cook.”

“That’s all you’ve said for the last fifty minutes,” Gilgamech muttered. “We should just destroy everything.”

“Trust me,” Deadpool answered. “I mean, they opted not to use us in the scene, so they clearly have things handled.”

“It’s been almost ten years, and you still talk in stupid riddles.”

Deadpool wagged a finger at the Fleet Admiral-Commander-King-God Mech. “It’s been ten years, and you still haven’t learned.”

***​

Meanwhile, the battle had taken one of its final turns.

Megatron faltered. His body had been ravaged by these fools, traitors, and lesser beings. The mighty Decepticon grimaced as he wrenched himself free from a collapsing skyscraper. As he shook the debris from around him, his eyes were drawn—like all those still alive on the island—to the source of the kaiju’s last, desperate roars.

Spectral claws sank deep into flesh that had been ravaged by combat. Phantoon, infused with the dying Ridley’s full might, tore mercilessly into the beast. Surprised initially by the sudden surge in the eldritch beast’s might, the Category V kaiju found itself reeling for a few moments. Eventually, it was able to reposition itself and batter away its now relentless attacker.

Slattern, with its multiple reptilian limbs and massive, jagged tail, could strike terror in a number of realities. For the better part of the battle, it had exerted its will upon the other lifeforms. Already, a pair of dragons had literally died at its feet, but now, a third had seemingly been born from another of its aggressors. The air was charged with tension as the bloodied, limping Kaiju paced a circle around the enhanced Phantoon. After countless slaughter, the mighty lion found itself bloodied and confronted by a new challenger.

It was neither Phantoon nor Slattern that broke the standoff, but the other member of this titanic tryst. Nullthing, mauled previously by the behemoth kaiju, crashed down onto its back in a fury of flailing limbs. Slattern craned its hammerhead and lashed out once more with its tail, but in that moment, the transformed Phantoon was upon it.

Collapsing as one of its limbs was dislodged from its socket, Slattern twisted its mangled form, seemingly trying to curl itself into a defensive position as ethereal claws tore it apart. Unable to react to both forces, Slattern failed to properly match either, as energized blades sank deep into its chest and shoulders. Swinging its skull forward, it bashed away its primary threat before managing to pry off the flesh beast upon its back and smashing Nullthing and Lilith into the ground. As the pair lashed out, they were drowned in a burst of flames.

Phantoon arrived just a few moments too late, as its phantom fire slammed into the visage of the kaiju. Even as Ridley drew close to his final breaths, the eldritch Bond paused to look down at the blackened patch of charred tissue that had once been its ally. The dying embers within the Space Pirate seared as Phantoon leapt upon its quarry.

In a fury, the great kaiju had its face and chest torn to shreds by the claws of the energized eldritch monster. Its legs buckled as Slattern collapsed with a thunderous boom that shuddered the isle. The kaiju seemed to recoil into itself as chunks of its dense flesh were torn away to reveal the underlying structures. Its attacker seemed to relish in the carnage.

What Phantoon failed to see was the motion of one of the kaiju’s many tails, which lashed forward and crashed through the eldritch abomination’s eye. Slattern lunged in that final, desperate moment, and the kaiju’s jaws removed its foe’s skull from the rest of its form. As the energized sinew tore away, there was a second thunderclap as the great burst of fire and energy erupted from the Bond. In that blaze, whatever may have still tethered the unmade kaiju to this coil was burned away in an instant.

#08 Victor Fries DEAD
#07 Tyler C. Racker DEAD
#04 Eszter DEAD
#02 Shallan Davar DEAD
#13 Lilith DEAD
#10 Ridley DEAD

(Think I interpreted the deaths prior to the post correctly, but if I didn't, uh, I apologize and can add a few paragraphs of Slatty crushing you if need be)​

 

[Karl Jak]

The Clockwork Colossus stumbled to the edge of what had once been Central City’s downtown area. In some dead era, this region likely had been a park of some kind, but currently, it was a glorified stretch of ocean-front property. The Bond twisted and leashed a punch at the unmade creature that leapt from the ruins. Unfortunately, the haymaker missed its mark, and the skittering beast slammed into the chest of the machine, which promptly twisted with the momentum. As it did, its legs let out a screeching wail not unlike the sound a steel structure might make when wear and tear causes it to implode.

Fortunately for the pilot of the massive golem, it landed on the skittering beast.

As the Clockwork Colossus settled into its final resting place, its pilots scrambled to free themselves from the derelict machine. Gizmo and Gadget spilled out onto the ground and took a few moments to catch their breath.

“What now?” Gadget muttered as he looked at the inert machine that lay behind them. “I don’t think we can fix this.”

Gizmo frowned. “We’ll have to just wait out the fighting. Once they take out Megatron, I’m certain we’ll be able to grab a ride away from this place.”

“I sure hope so,” Gadget added as he turned away from the fallen colossus and strode toward the edge of the impromptu beach. “This part of the city kind of gives me the willies.”

“You’re right,” Gizmo spoke softly as he pressed the tip of his foot into the loose soil and looked out at the turbulent waves breaking just a few feet ahead of them. “Maybe we should find a building to hide in? You know… for the just in case?” Even though he was normally the first one to step up to the unknown or confront a challenge, Gizmo couldn’t deny that he felt something oppressive in the foggy air around them.

Chh chh chh …

The two twisted around to face the carcass of their Bond.

“You heard that, right?” Gadget whispered.

“Some type of music?”

“Another monster?”

Gizmo shook his head.

Ahh ahh ahh …

Gadget’s eyes went wide as he pointed to something behind his brother’s back.

“You look a little pale, Gadget,” Gizmo replied before he noticed that he was now in the shadow of something. Craning his head, he managed to barely process the serial killer in a hockey mask before his head was separated from his shoulders.

Gadget did the only sensible thing in the situation.

He ran. He ran toward the nearest building and threw himself through the window of what he quickly learned was some type of textile factory. As he dashed through the dimly lit corridors of the abandoned factory, his footsteps echoed with a rapid, rhythmic thud, echoing the frantic pace of his racing heart. Even as he moved, he swore he could still hear that faint, rhythmic noise in the backdrop. Or was that just said racing heart attempting to burst out of his chest?

The flickering overhead lights cast eerie and shifting shadows on the cracked, dusty walls, heightening the sense of dread that gnawed at Gadget’s every nerve. His wide eyes darted in all directions, scanning for any signs of danger as he scrambled along the contents of his tool belt. His mind wasn’t humming on all cylinders, but he’d have to think of something quick if he intended to get out of this building and lose his silent, menacing pursuer.

Behind him, that ominous and unknown presence lurked. The figure's malevolent intentions were clear—the image of Gizmo’s heart spiraling into the dirt was still fresh in his brother’s mind.

His footsteps faltered briefly as he reached a fork in the corridor, uncertainty washing over him like a tidal wave. With a quick decision, he veered left, hoping to find an exit or a hiding spot. The shadows seemed to close in around him, and the air grew colder as he ventured deeper into the building’s labyrinthine interior. A quick glance before going through the window had shown that this building was small, right? Gadget squeezed his eyes closed for a moment as competing information swirled in his head.

Gadget's breath came in short, labored gasps, his fear-fueled adrenaline propelling him forward. Every creak and distant sound magnified his anxiety, and he knew that the silent, lunatic killer was gaining ground. He couldn't afford to be caught.

As he finally glimpsed a glimmer of moonlight through a shattered window, hope surged within Gadget. He pushed himself to the limit, sprinting toward the exit. With one final burst of speed, he smashed through the door and fell to his hands and knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“I did it,” he spoke in a wheezing tone between gulps of air.

It was only then that he lifted his head enough to notice the damp boots a few inches in front of his face.

His mouth contorted into unknown words as one of those heavy feet slammed down onto his skull.

#09 Gizmo Gear DEAD​

 

[Karl Jak]

“Worthless,” Megatron remarked as he turned his attention away from the now smoldering section of the city and fell back to avoid a splash of suppressing fire from his adversaries. As the Deception left the ground, his beleaguered form twisted and contorted into a jet that burst toward the center of the city.

“He’s retreating,” Kyle Reese remarked as his Terminator Bond followed the path of the jet into what had formerly been a stadium of some sort near the heart of the ravaged city.

“Unlikely.” The only other transformer on the island muttered. “We need to pursue. Now!”

That was all the instruction the other three Bonds required, and within an instant, they were all following Redsky toward the stadium.

As the surviving Bonds landed among the stands, their attention shifted to the Decepticon, who stood at the edge of a bore hole that went down into the untold fathoms below the island. An untold horde of unmade monstrosities appeared to have been gnawing and tearing their way down through the sod and the underlying layers of clay and stone.

“Who would have thought?” Megatron boomed as a swarm of flying monstrosities spewed up from the pit. “I drifted through untold stretches of spacetime. You can’t imagine how it felt to only have the strength to cling to life. When Darkseid spoke to me, it was the purest form of salvation imaginable.”

A host of winged unmade came spewing up from the crater. Acting in unison, they hoisted a chunk of stone and earth that seemed to contain something that sparkled like pure sunlight. Megatron snatched the earth-caked cache from his underlings, and with a faint smirk on his scarred visage, he scraped away some the dirt and clay to reveal an object that was simply too luminescent for any of the Bonds to spot details at their range.

“The AllSpark. Right where he said it would be.”

Redsky shook her head. “That’s … no, that’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible if he wills it to be so!” Megatron screamed as he twisted around to face the surviving Bonds. “Bear witness.”

There was a sudden burst of light and a wave of concussive force that sent the Bonds crashing back down into the infrastructure of the stadium. Separated for the moment, the survivors all shook away the haze, but their quick respite was short-lived, as they found themselves beset upon by the last remaining vestiges of the unmade force. Freed from their mining operations, the legion of single-minded drones washed into the gaps in the structure.

Megatron, his body shimmering as he stared down at the object in his fist, barely reacted when a dark mass of flesh that wasn’t aligned to him came screaming up out from the stadium depths. With a chaotic gurgle, ‘Sam’, the overgrown organosynth, threw himself at the Decepticon with hapless abandon as his makeshift allies dealt with their own problems.

Sam’s goliath, grotesque form twisted and writhed, morphing into a nightmarish amalgamation of fangs and tendrils as he lunged at Megatron. The sneering Decepticon, armed with fusion cannon and a glistening blade, stood his ground, his metallic frame shimmering with a rush for fresh anger and malice.

Sam struck first, his tendrils extending with incredible speed, attempting to ensnare Megatron. However, even this late into the fighting, Megatron's reflexes were still impressive. With a swift swipe of his blade, he severed the snapping tendrils, sending them wriggling to the ground.

Megatron aimed his fusion cannon, unleashing a searing beam of destructive energy towards the massive monster. The symbiote, ever adaptable, shifted its form to avoid the deadly blast, contorting its shape as the laser narrowly missed. Sam retaliated by launching himself at the sneering machine, jaws wide open, ready to sink into the Decepticon’s armor. Megatron evaded the attack in the most straightforward manner possible—he punched the symbiote in the center of the face and sent him hurtling through the air.

As Sam crashed into the ground, he quickly regrouped, oozing over the terrain to reform his body. He extended his tendrils once more, attempting to encase Megatron in a web of symbiotic matter. The Decepticon, however, had other plans. He transformed into his jet form, sliding through the seething alien tissue as it attempted to close around his smaller form. Reforming in the sky above, Megatron came crashing back down with a powerful stomp, shattering the ground beneath him, and forcing Sam to retreat as the ground collapsed.

“You can’t stop me now,” Megatron spoke as he opened his fist to reveal the AllSpark. “It’s power is my power, and you are unworthy.”

“Tch,” the symbiote rushed forward, only to be met with a blast of plasma that ate through his face and half of his chest. Unfortunately for the Bond, an equally unaffable Nico Cinder found himself swallowed up in the blast.

As what remained of Sam collapsed into a gurgling puddle, Megatron spun to grab the approaching fist of Bob, the over-sized Terminator. Grimacing against the renewed strength of the transforming monstrosity, the T-100 swung with its other fist. This impact landed square against the metal jaw of the beast, but it only seemed to make the creature grin a little wider.

“You are also not worthy,” the Decepticon spoke before executing the pair with another belching blast of plasma energy from his fusion cannon.

#11 Nico Cinder DEAD
#01 Kyle Reese DEAD​

 

[Karl Jak]

The penguin was unconscious.

Redsky, shrugging off the unmade insectoids that failed to find purchase against her corpus, leapt up out from the stadium and set her sights on the renewed Deception.

“Your body fails you,” Megatron spoke calmly as he looked up at the mangled Transformer. “Once I break you for the last time, I will ensure you rise again, and you will serve the Fallen One well.”

“Never.” Redsky intoned. The Drifted Bond shot forth, but their strike missed its mark. Megatron’s elbow crashed down into Redsky’s skull, crushing the head of the machine as if it were an empty can of soda beneath the foot of an indignant teenager.

System warnings flared as Skylar struggled to control the Bond with her barely conscious copilot. Struggling against controls that now seemed virtually locked in place, she hoisted an arm to defend only to be thrown backwards with the utmost ease by the Decepticon.

“It’s almost over, Skywarp.” Megatron intoned as his shadow fell over the collapsed machine.

Watari, staring out through the protective dome that encased the pilots, clenched her teeth to the point of her gums throbbing as she attempted to maneuver the Redsky. She managed to hoist on the machine’s fists only to have Megatron smack it aside and proceed to jab the point of a blade into the center of the cockpit.

Before the Decepticon could delight in piercing the literal heart of his adversary, he was assailed by a burst of golden light. For a brief moment, he simply registered the vortex as some byproduct of the AllSpark, but then a spear manifested and slammed into his shoulder.

The momentum was enough to pluck the massive monstrosity of steel and circuitry off his feet and crash him through the retaining wall and into the locker rooms that lay beyond. A moment later, that section of the beleaguered stadium let out a final, groaning screech before collapsing down on top of the unmade Transformer.

“Are you alive in there?” Redsky was plucked off the ground by an equally red mech. “You know, green is probably more your color, if you ask me,” the mercenary spoke into the machine’s chest as he leaned back and poked his fingers at the smashed cranium.

“He’ll be back on his feet soon,” Gilgamech snarled as he summoned Ea into his metal hands. “And we shall put this mongrel back into the ground.”

“I think we might want to start by shooting the fairly obvious weak point.” Deadpool spoke as Megatron came bursting up out from the debris. Although armed with the AllSpark, it was also fairly obvious to anyone who took a deeper look that there was something else glowing within the central chassis of the monstrous machine.

“The Atomic Heart never went off?” Warp glanced at her unconscious copilot, who had been instrumental in the maneuvering to drive that device into the Decepticon.

“Sure looks that way, Cow-girl. We should probably shoot that and go home, amirite?” Deadpool, still supporting the Bond, craned his neck and saw that Gilgamech was gone. The gilded god-machine was charging forward with his sword. “Yea, I mean … that’s an effective strategy too, I guess.”

The battle began with a deafening clash as Gilgamech charged forward, swinging Ea with incredible force. Megatron merely snarled and hoisted the fusion cannon, which light up with a terribly sun-burst of plasma. The impact when the projectile crashed into the gilded mech was enough to nearly topple over Deadpool. Yet, any amusement that Megatron may have felt died seconds later as his foe, wreath in an amost divine aura, came stampeding out from the cloud of dust and debris.

Gilgamech leaped into the air, his sword trailing arcs of celestial energy. He brought Ea crashing down with incredible force, creating shockwaves that rippled through the terrain. Megatron avoided the initial impact but was thrown to the wayside by the shockwaves of energy. Striking the ground hard, the Decepticon rolled through the impact and landed back on his feet just in time to leash a punch at the oncoming Gilgamech. The impact, augmented by the AllSpark, sent the gilded machine into his own variation of the patented ragdoll tumble. A lesser foe likely would have been down for whatever count the theoretical referee may have made.

But even if you set aside the mech, Gilgamesh was no ordinary man. He rose, his determination unshaken. With a powerful incantation, he summoned an array of spiraling gates that linked to his hordes of treasures and weaponry. An arsenal of gilded, glowing weapons erupted forth, catching the monstrous machine reeling as he tried in vain to dodge everything. Yet, despite outmanueving or blasting aside much of the onslaught, a trio of chains snaked through the chaos and momentarily robbed the Decepticon of his arms.

“Yet another false king,” Gilgamech boomed as he lifted Ea above his head. The weapon glowed with otherworldly power as its owner struck with a blow that cleaved through Megatron's armor, exposing circuitry and sparking wires.

Megatron roared in defiance and fired his fusion cannon at point-blank range. The energy blast slammed into Gilgamech, sending him hurtling backward, but the hero's divine heritage protected him from complete annihilation.

“We need to do something,” Redsky rasped as its solo pilot tried to move the Drifted Bond.

“It’s okay, he’s got a thick skull. He can take a few more of those before the concussion symptoms start to kick in and he starts seeing talking mice.”

With renewed determination, the divine GIlgamech rose once more.

“You may wear a metal suit, but you are still a fleshling,” An increasingly unhinged Megatron boomed as he fired a blast from his fusion cannon that was rent apart by a well-timed swing of a cosmic blade. Gilgamech pressed the attack but fell short as the Decepticon leapt over him, catching him along the back with a raking strike from the Transformer’s blade.

Pushing away from Deadpool, Skylar grabbed for the truck-sized pistol that hung from the ‘mech’ mercenary’s belt. As Megatron landed, spun, and moved to impale Gilgamesh through the back, Redsky squeezed on the trigger, sending a car-sized bullet slamming into the Decipton’s chest and just missing the now greatly exposed Atomic Heart by mere feet.

A smiling Megatron burst forward, and in a terrifying moment, the blade of the vile, fallen Transformer smashed through the central cockpit of the Redsky. Skylar screamed as sunlight spilled into the chamber as the sword ripped up through the remainder of her Bond’s torso. While her eyes were first pulled up to the path of the blade, Warp Watari then moved her gave to the other side of the pod, where a slumped Don Isaac stirred slightly amidst the ravaged pod. Where they had once been nearly side-by-side, there was now a slowly expanding gulf between them, and it was fairly obvious that what was left of Redsky was tearing apart.

“Are you—”

There was yet another earth-shaking explosion that caused the Bond to tear apart, and Skylar lost sight of her copilot as her portion of the machine was buttressed by the megazord mercenary.

Megatron rose and scowled at his adversary. “It’s not over,” the Decepticon snarled through failing machinery in his face as he held up his hand that still clenched the AllSpark. “Not while I have its power.”

Cracking his neck and grinning inside his machine, Gilgamesh adjusted his grip on his divine weapon. “It was over the moment you thought you could match me.” Ea pulsed with cosmic energy. With a mighty swing, its wielder struck at Megatron's core, unleashing a cataclysmic explosion that consumed both combatants.

Deadpool turned to look down at the panicked pilot inside the remains of the Redsky. “Sorry about your ride,” he spoke before grabbing hold of Skylar and wrenching the whole pilot apparatus out from the cockpit. The little woman was shouting something as Deadpool stooped down to grab at the other part of the machine carcass. Whether he managed to find any success was unknown, because a beat later the giant red mechazord was knocked off the ground as the massive wave of energy crushed into him. Skylar, with the machinery around her crumbling apart inside of the metal fist of Deadpool, grit her teeth and waited for a fiery end that never came.

When Deadpool finally came to rest, he unfurled his slightly charred hand to reveal a wide-eyed but mostly unhurt Skylar Watari. “Is it over?” She asked before a second question quickly entered her mind. “Don Isaac?”

Deadpool held up his other hand, and he opened it to reveal a very conscious Don Isaac, who seemed poised to say something when a third party answered his copilot’s question.

The haughty reply boomed over the remnants of the battlefield.

“Of course, it is.”

With her communication systems nearly fried, it took the solo pilot of the Redsky to realize that it was Gilgamesh who had replied. The gilded mech was standing a few feet away, his mostly untarnished carapace of divine, shimmering steel radiant in the sunlight that now seemed to beam down through the turbulent skies of the Containment Zone.

“I think this is where he expects the clapping.” Deadpool spoke as he stood up off the ground, still cradling the surviving pilots in his hands.

#00 Redsky DEAD*
#06 Chaos Agent Rory DEAD**
#12 Amalia Eckern ???***
#03 Don Isaac SURVIVES
#05 Skylar Watari SURVIVES
#14 Gilgamesh SURVIVES
#16 Deadpool SURVIVES
​

*One or both the Redsky copilots is more than welcome to write (or not write) some sort of resolution post. You'll be returning to Command Point 1 and being extracted by Syntech back to the Preshow Facility. Anything else or any sort of reflection you may want to do is up to you. DM me as need be, and let me see any post before you make it. You both have until the end of the week to write a post if you so desire

**(the drones ate him, but your revive is free, given the conditions behind your inability to finish the event @King Ghidorah )
***(let me know he was dipping out super early, but your Bond will cease functioning and you're going to be stranded on Opealon when you become active @Amalia Eckern )

Rory gets +0 Points
Amalia gets +0 Points
Krampus gets +4 Points
Eszter gets +7 Points
Shallan gets +5 Points
Don Isaac gets +6 Points
Skylar Watari gets +5 Points
Lilith gets +4 Points
Kyle Reese gets +4 Points
Gizmo Gear gets +4 Points
Ridley gets +7 Points

 

[Don Isaac]

Darkness enshrouded Isaac - it was not a comfort to a son of Santagria, one who lived above the clouds and whose lineage had been baptised once more in the atomic fires of the old war. His blood yearned for the sun, for the flames, for Glory- and instead, there was nothing but the distant, sullen beat of his heart as he drifted through a dream.

How many of these memories were his?

Skies, left black by the smoke of rocket exhaust over ravaged wastelands- twisted metal left in burning wrecks whose ravaged silhouettes were the sole source of shade beneath a baleful sun.

Was this Cybertron, or Santagria?

Beasts, baying in the dark, hunting packs carrying heavy weapons prowling through the shadows in search of their prey- simple labourers pressed into service. But were they monsters of steel, or sinew?

He could feel his muscles, now. Rigid, coiled around his bones as if they were trying to crack open his ivory and embrace the marrow within. He wished he could not- pain radiated through his mortal from, throbbing through his ravaged ribs, lancing through his nerves and pooling in his fingertips and toes. If he could see anything but stars, he might reach for a knife to carve away that agony- but alas, the light came pouring back into his senses, a blinding radiance that begged bloodied lips to open and loose the guttural lowing of a wounded animal.

"Such piteous wailing- I'll permit one misstep, Commandant, but I've little patience for such an unfitting habit."

Groggily, the Don twisted his head towards the source of the sound- the sensation of silk beneath his throbbing skull a welcome respite as he brought only more pain to his eyes as they tried to focus upon the gleaming effigy of gold before him.

"Your Magnificence," Isaac croaked. The Atom Baronies had no formal term of address for a God-King, and the last king had been reduced to irradiated ash when the bombs fell. But he'd rather invent one and speak it with a ragged tongue than be found wanting. "To what do I owe the-" he swallowed hard, trying to use what little spittle still clung to his teeth to soothe his raw throat. "Pleasure?"

"I simply wished to appraise my Second with my own eyes," the divinity said, choosing to inspect his own gilded gauntlet rather than deign to look upon the bedridden Nobleman. "An impressive set of victories you've claimed beneath my banner. Cleaning up some of the vermin that crept into my home, sinking that fleet, and, of course-" the God paused for a moment, narrowing crimson eyes as they spoke in a harsh growl.

"-Detroit."

"Thank you, your Beneficence," Isaac rasped, pressing his elbows into the bed beneath him as he pushed himself upwards, blearily blinking as he took in the room for the first time. Sterile white walls, a pale blue blanket, a bank of medical machinery buzzing and beeping at his side.

And the goblet.

A golden chalice sat on an elegantly carved wooden end table, encrusted with crimson jewels, bands of lapis lazuli encircling its rim, filled to the brim with wine. Plastic tubing dipped into that crimson brew, extending outwards and feeding into Isaac's own arm, every weak beat of his heart drawing the vital vintage into his veins.

"A modest selection," the God drawled, idly twisting a wrist as he sought to banish any concerns that Isaac might have sought to voice. "You've impressed me, to a moderate extent," he said, idly strolling around Isaac's sickbed. "I wouldn't be shamed to have you as a vassal," Gilgamesh mused, rubbing his fingers together, as if inspecting them for some filth that had been inflicted upon him by these simple surroundings.

A wry smirk spread across the God-King's porcelain visage as he looked at the wounded noble, noting the unsubtle tension building in Isaac's shoulders. "Oh, rest easy, knight. I've hardly any interest in demanding oaths from you. For now, at least. You'd be a pretty bird in a gilded cage, to be certain, but I'd much rather see your wings grow some before I sought to see them bound so."

"Thank you, Your Most Highness," Isaac rasped, bowing his head as he clutched at the thin blanket cast across his bandaged frame, cloth swaddling rents in his olive skin. "If I may ask- who else survived that final battle?"

"Well, you're the only one of that Mongrel rabble that still breathes," the eternal lord of Uruk said with a scoff, shaking his head. "Flightless birds and dogs- I'll have to have words with Karl about his little flights of fancy."

For but a moment, Isaac broke- his carefully cultivated mien of noble aloofness faltering as sorrow welled up from within, stopping just short of offering a decidedly improper squeak as he fought to find the words. Eventually, though, he fought through the misery to offer a querulous query to the divinity before him.

"But- Skywarp doesn't breathe, do they?"

"Oh, I've little interest in the mechanical," the God said dismissively, waving a hand to fan that errant thought away from his precious brain. "Whatever twists and turns within their chassis still does so, and that's presumably good," Gilgamesh spoke.

"Thank you, your Divinity," Isaac said, inclining his head respectfully. "I have much to consider, and I would welcome a few moments of rest and respite," the Nobleman said, weary fingers grasping the ragged end of his moustache and striving to restore it to some semblance of its former magnificence.

"I was about to leave," the God-king yawned, looking dismissively upon his surroundings. "Perhaps I'll be intrigued enough by your future actions to reconsider the matter of your vassalage. I do like to collect wondrous things, after all- and there are precious few among the mongrel people of these realms that qualify."

Scoffing, the Sumerian paraded out the door, eager to reach more suitable environs for one of his station, leaving Isaac alone, with naught but the steady drip drip drip of his ambrosia-laden intravenous drip to keep him company.

Sighing, the Don settled back against the tender pillows arrayed behind him, letting out a breath that he had held for far too long, letting his eyes slip close as he revelled in a modicum of comfort approaching that which he was accustomed to.

And then, he pulled free the tubes feeding into his arm, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed and stumbling to his feet. His limbs protested- the dozens of bruises and cuts accumulated beneath his torn fatigues making a compelling case for returning to the bed, but they were swiftly overruled. Gritting his teeth with every painful step, Isaac staggered into the hall, each step attempting to reclaim his stiff-backed stride.

Skylar. They'd not come this far through the trials and tribulations of this mad contest to simply be separated. They'd entered this maelstrom together- and by the Holy Atom, they would walk out of it together.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Skylar stood on the outer bounds of an open hangar overlooking the oceans of Opealon, her hands tucked neatly behind her back as if she was ready for a formal inspection. The blue sky and the even bluer sea beyond seemed to stretch out into infinity, bright daylight rippling across her tattered violet flight jacket, the rugged edges flapping in a gust of salty ocean air.

The holomatter avatar's purple, grey and black body armor sparkled dully in the bitter glare of the sun, specks of dirt, soot and the black marks of laser fire speckled across it like a Jackson Pollock painting. Her mouth pinched into a hard, thin line, her expression sizzling with displeasure and profound impotence.

In front of Skylar, a horde of Syntech lackeys were trying to stuff the busted-up remains of her colossal, augmented mechanical bod into some sort of berth. They weren't encountering much success—cranes and heavy machinery did all the work while the organics just sorta stood around looking clueless and utterly superfluous.

Trying to parallel park a trans-atmospheric jet was apparently too abstract of a concept for mere fleshlings to grasp.

"Easy there, slugger!" Skylar barked at the nearest unfortunate human, her sharp tongue like a rapier as her crimson gaze flashed from beneath her yellow-tinted aviators. "You're not offloading a fraggin' refrigerator— that's delicate machinery and you know it!"

An annoyingly mirthful voice interrupted her from the side. "C'mon now, duck-lady, don't be too hard on the NPCs! We've only got a few days left in the event!"

Teeth gritting, Skylar swiveled her head to behold a chivalrous figure prancing towards her, said figure donning a crimson onesie composed of sturdy spandex. She already knew this dashing hero's name: Deadpool. The daring human who had saved herself and Don Isaac from the iron claws of Death (or Megatron, in this case. Same diff).

Unfortunately, he wasn't the red-clad knight she actually wanted to see.

"Oh, what a surprise. My hero," Skylar drawled, her entire demeanor gruff and unapproachable, taut with apathy. She squared her shoulders in a show of defiance, as if trying to arch invisible wings in a threat display. "What brings you here, hm? Lookin' for trouble...?"

Her eyes flickered like a blood-red pulsar, a brilliant beacon of menace twinkling within them. She felt that the effect was somewhat diminished due to her reduced stature, but kept up appearances nonetheless. Seekers didn’t back down when their rep was on the line, after all.

TC wouldn’t have approved, though.

Deadpool raised his palms to the sky in mock surrender, the white lenses of his mask going wide and round. "Alrighty then, no need to get sassy with me, 'Con Air! I mean, I did just save your life and all— the least you could do is show a little appreciation."

"I could've taken 'im," snarled Skylar, narrowing her eyes and flapping her hand in dismissal. "That... that parody of Megatron was a real Mega-douche, but he was my douche to deactivate! He murdered my brother—"

"Riiiight, you coulda done that with your braincase all scrambled and a co-pilot slowly dyin' on ya,” Deadpool shook his head and planted his hands on his hips, right above his emblem-laden belt. "Yeah, sure thing bud."

At even the slightest mention of Isaac's previous plight, Skylar spun towards the Merc with a Mouth, her voice rough as a cheese grater and her peepers sharper than Deadpool's dorky-ass katanas.

"What the slag do you want," she stated. It was worded much too bluntly to be a proper question. In fact, it sounded a lot like a threat— a threat she really wasn't in a place to be making, considering her lack of gigantic robot body.

At any rate, Deadpool humored her.

The mercenary made an exaggerated show of scratching at his mask-covered head, miming digging inside his ear with his pinkie finger. "Whoa, there's a memory," he laughed, tapping the side of his head. "Right! I’m just here to say your fly boy decided to skip out on his stay-cation."

Abruptly, Skylar's attention fully focused on him with all the attention of a laser-guided missile.

"He what?" she demanded in a sharp voice, visibly aghast. "He can't just do that! You fleshies need all your... your gross liquids inside you or you'll die. He was leaking that scrap everywhere—"

BANG.

Skylar and Deadpool spun around in unison as the door behind them clanged open, adding to the cacophony of metal against metal ringing throughout the hangar of Command Point 1.

Don Isaac De Metralla dramatically burst into the room, wobbling so heavily against the doorframe that he seemed a mere breath away from collapsing in a heap, flagging like a sail in the absence of wind.

He stood there for a lengthy moment, panting and out of breath, his radium-green gaze aflame with an emerald radiance as he scoured the room—before inevitably settling upon Skylar.

Isaac's eyes slid briefly shut. The nobleman heaved a sigh, relief evident in every facet of his being, his tattered fatigues and ragged appearance notwithstanding, and then reopened them. Even his tattered mustache appeared to perk up at the sight of her.

"Skywarp."

The air around them seemed to still as he spoke the name.

Isaac stepped forward with a clunk of his boots, and his breath hitched on a pained gasp as he made to approach despite his very real injuries, staggering precariously in the absence of the doorframe's much-needed support.

In an electric flash of violet light, Skylar was there to catch the nobleman as he stumbled, merrily slinging one of his arms around her shoulders. She teetered precariously on her elevated boot-heels as she sought to support his taller frame, yet stayed firmly planted in her stance.

An unrepentant grin bloomed upon her face as she peered up at Isaac, eyes crinkling up at the corners, twinkling like the stars of night had descended from the heavens and settled in their ruby depths.

"Isaac!"

Skylar's face was a beacon of glee, positively glowing, as if her joy was simply too powerful to be properly contained.

"Aww..." cooed Deadpool, somewhere in the background.

Neither pilot paid him any mind.

 

[Don Isaac]

The daylight had long since faded. A red sky rose from the horizon, the evening sun sinking beneath the waves, illuminating the flotsam that was all that remained of the navies that sailed into the now-silent maelstrom. There, a ragged sheet of hull plating resting against a reef. Elsewhere, a splintered spar of wood from a classical vessel, its wood etched with sigils that still burned with an alien incandescence.

And here Isaac stood, above it all. A cigarette hung from his fingers, embers smouldering in the dying light. It was a Victory- and as such, it was glorious. The scars carved into his body, the pints of blood left behind in those sunken cities, wreckage of his craft, the uncounted dead that Syntech had marched into the meat grinder. He counted the cost as he lifted the smoke-stick to his lips, inhaling the nicotine in search of succour.

"Those things'll kill you, you know," Skylar smirked at him, leaning against the railing of the gantry overlooking the war-torn archipelago. She reached out, impishly flicking the burning ember from the tip of the cigarette, ash and sparks raining into the darkness far beneath Syntech's vessel. "I can't have my favourite Meatbag getting their filters dirtied."

Isaac scoffed, shaking his head as he gave a smile despite himself. "The least of our worries, I suspect," he said, tearing his gaze away from the holo-matter avatar as he looked back towards the seas beyond. "There were dire moments," he confessed, letting the ruins of his cigarette fall into the hungry depths. "I'm told that death is not the end, in this place," he said, looking back to Skywarp as he ran his fingers along the ragged edges of his moustache. "I know you'll want to find Thundercracker, wherever he's found himself."

"Yeah," Skywarp said with a shrug, brilliant eyes looking out into the setting sun alongside him. "Fun as it's been, I miss the big lug," she sighed, shaking her head. "If I leave him alone for much longer, wherever he's ended up, he'll end up- I dunno, weaving flower crowns or something," she sniggered. "Which- well, as funny as it would be, I can't let the man drag himself down into joining some kind of pacifist anarcho-syndicalist commune," the transformer said, pushing herself off the railing.

"I think I came here with someone else as well," Isaac admitted, turning and following Skylar as the pair of victors ambled along the gleaming gantry. "My Manservant, Pablo. We were together when I was taken, much like you and Thundercracker. It's been some time, since we arrived- I'm not sure what's become of him in the months that followed."

"Well, if present company is anything to judge by," the Lady Watari said, wrapping her hands behind her head as she made her way down the stairs. "Then anyone who survives more than a week with you is more than able to handle themselves," she snorted, rounding around the next flight of stainless stairs.

"Given the attrition rates, you might have a point," the noble said, electing to embrace a degree of dark humour, rather than dwell on the dead they had left behind them. He'd scarcely met them- but he'd seen great beasts of flesh and steel torn asunder, scant few inches from himself. The metal and meat strewn across those now-peaceful battlefields- could they have been him?

No. He was different- that fact had been drilled into him from the very beginning, and he'd never had cause to question it before now. He stood atop the mound of the lesser, unworthy dead, and as much as he might weep for their loss, there remained the simple fact that he was a Noble of Santagria- he was simply built different.

He smiled at Skylar as the pair of them arrived at a gleaming airlock, the portal sliding open on perfectly oiled mechanisms. Syntech may be an anarcho-capitalist juggernaut of entertainment that happily exchanged blood for profit margin, but damned if they didn't know how to maintain their facilities.

"Then it would appear that this is it, then," he said, taking a moment to lean his battered body against the doorway. "We've our companions to chase down, and worlds to explore," the Don said, a wistful grin on his weary face.

"I guess so," Skylar said, giving a shrug. "That would make this a goodbye, then, wouldn't it? Never been that great at those," the transformer said. How long had she warred alongside her compatriot? How many millennia had she spent with Thundercracker at her side, only to be left alone, now.

"But a momentary farewell, my Lady," Isaac said, his back protesting as he dipped low, seizing the holographic hand and gently pressing his lips to its back, an electric fizz suffusing the surface of his skin.

"We'll always have Detroit."