V M [Unmaking] The Nausicaa Incident

[Omelette Robotnik]

Rocked by the gentle waves of the Great Opealon Ocean, and warmed by the bright sun overhead, Jar Jar Binks was enjoying a nice afternoon nap upon his raft. This behavior was nothing new to either the Gungan himself, nor the inhabitants of Opealon. Living deep beneath the waves, in enormous bubble-like cities, the Gungan race had long since eliminated the need for daily toil. A veritable army of servile Droids serviced every aspect of their lives, from maintaining the globe protecting the cities, to harvesting energy from the geothermal vents on the ocean floor, and everything in between.


As such, the Gungan race was typically seen as lazy, stupid, or at the very least "care-free". It was a stereotype which suited the amphibious race just fine, as they saw the other inhabitants of the planet as far too hectic and/or violent for their tastes anyway. They were always rushing here or there, when all a Gungan ever wanted to do was slow down and enjoy life.


And that was exactly what Jar Jar was doing on the surface, far from his deep-sea home. Enjoying life. Soaking in the sun and feeling the wind on his skin. Being rocked by the waves and hearing the cries of the gulls. A moment in time that the humans of the world would never even think about, but which any true son of Opealon would consider more valuable than gold.


A sudden jerk of the raft stirred Jar Jar from his dozings, the hastily-made floatation aid creaking ominously from the strain. A sudden crashing wave shut his eyes before he could even open them, but when it passed, the Gungan looked out upon a nightmare. Having expected, at worst, a sudden storm cell or nearby ship, the sight before him took his breath away. Dark and sinister, tentacles stretched towards the sky, a whirlpool of violent water thrashing around them.


A stoney fist clasped his heart as Jar Jar held tight to his flimsy lifeline of a raft. Battered by the violence of the sea, it threatened to come apart at any moment, but the Gungan knew that if he fell into the water with that… thing… then that would be it for him. Almost involuntarily, his eyes drifted towards the sky, following the tentacles up towards their target. And, as he saw it, his spirits were crushed under a heavy blanket of despair.


One of the islands… it was falling. No, not falling. It was being torn from its perch in the heavens. Binks' eyes widened as debris fell from the chunk of sky-stone; both of a mundane and more… living variety. But there was no time to mourn for their, hopefully swift, deaths. No time even for a panicked escape from the falling mountain. There was only time to close his eyes and accept the inevitability of his own death, seconds before it crashed down upon him.

 

[V]

The ocean was boiling with the pressure of the sinking island and the frantic activity of creatures and people along its new 'shoreline'. Nightmare things came crawling and shrieking out of the water, or leaping into the sky to take ghastly flight on fins-turned-wings. Birds and bugs twirled through the air, shrieking and chittering and warbling as they picked apart buildings and survivors. Plants twisted and mutated into vicious hazards and monstrosities on the landmass.

And the chaos and noise woke something else up.

Battered and weary from its last fight, Godzilla had sunk under the waves once again to rest and recover. Sleeping and dreaming fitfully, awakening only partially here and there to feed and replenish its waning strength, the great kaiju had simply drifted with the currents and waves down in the dark waters.

...until the impact of the island suburb of Nausicaa with the water's surface.

Among the chaos, of things swarming and murderously frothing about among the increasingly polluted and filthy waters, the king of mounters stirred. Huge eyes the size of a man's head snapped open, reptilian pupils narrowed to razor-thin slits in the near-blackness of the cold waters. Dim, electric blue luminescence glowed from them, illuminating a tiny area...as something disgusting and twisted that might have once been a fish came careening forward, jaws wide and snapping like some cartoonish mechanical to, directly for the sudden source of light and life.

All it met was a wave of crushing pressure as a colossal clawed hand swept it aside, sending it spinning away in a frothing trail of bubbles and sickly, oily blood.

Righting itself, Godzilla turned its eyes toward the surface distantly, far above...and lurched into motion. The titanic bulk of the great kaiju sliced through the water with an unnatural ease and speed as it shot toward the surface, the force of its passing setting up a churning wake and hurling aside the smaller hapless creatures in its way.

The water near the edge of the sinking landmass slowly began to bulge upward, foaming and bubbling and frothing as a dull blue glow rose up from below it. It went unnoticed by all, amid the already ongoing chaos of the island's plight. The citizens of the island were staging a frantic retreat away from the encroaching waters and vileness of the impossible event, chased and harried by horrific monsters and unthings every step of the way. The defenders who had come were doing their best to deal with the threat and herd the survivors inward toward — hopefully — temporary sanctuary and eventual rescue.

Like a bursting bubble, the unnatural swell of water eventually exploded up and outward, along with an unearthly noise as the King of Monsters screeched and roared its arrival to the world when it broke the surface.

For a moment, the sheer spectacle of it all drew terrified glances and stares from a number of surprised survivors on the island, color draining from their faces. No doubt, they thought, this was some fresh new hell about to be unleashed on their already doomed island. Some vast new monstrosity sent to truly destroy everything in sight...

...and then Godzilla struck out with a clawed hand, the sweeping arc of its massive arm and hand catching dozens of the warped avian monstrosities and sending them crashing down into the ground and water below with a messy shower of splats and crunches.

Confusion replaced the previous terror as the world seemed to resume, and everyone returned to their frantic flight into the inner city, away from the rising waters.

The king of monsters paid them no mind. They weren't the important thing here; if they stayed out of its way, it would leave them be. It had been awakened for one single purpose only: to fight this...unnatural presence. This dark, corrupting and evil thing. It hadn't known its face before, or its scent or form or anything...but somehow it knew. That same oily, sickly, bone-deep feeling of utter wrongness that had gripped it in the feverish nightmare of its awakening on this world of water, came now from this entire island and the things attacking it.

With a target for its fury, Godzilla slowly lumbered out of the water and made landfall, sending waves and foaming breakers crashing dozens of meters ahead of it with every step. A single moment spared for shaking itself down like a dog might, sending a torrent of corrupted and polluted sludge and seawater raining down over everything.

One of the gray-skinned nightmare beasts leading this horrible assault came streaking out of the air toward it, screeching its fury and some mindless torrent of noise that the kaiju loosely recognized as 'speech' of the kind used by humans and other tiny things like them. Barely intelligible, even by those standards. The parademon brandished its weapons, clearly with hostile intent as it charged in.

And then Godzilla let loose a low, rumbling growl from deep within its chest, as it simple struck out with one arm. In a blurring motion, the colossal limb moving far faster than something its size had any right to, the kaiju struck the parademon out of the air like one might a gnat. Crushing the freakish monstrosity against the palm of its hand, it swung downward, virtually spiking it into the earth below hard enough to make it bounce back from the impact, dazing it just long enough for an earth-shaking stomp to grind it further into the dirt and stone, with a disgusting squelch not unlike stepping in something vile.

Was it dead? Hard to tell. The life of these things was so tiny and hard to measure to something like itself, Godzilla found it incredibly difficult to discern — or, truly, to care. It was crushed and unable to continue being a pest, and that was good enough for the kaiju to move on to other threats.

Of which there were an endless number to bathe in atomic fire and fury.

 

[Amalia Eckern]

It was pure bedlam. Amalia shuddered and shrank into herself, trying to shut out distant screams. Nearby an explosion tore apart a massive windmill, throwing it to the ground. Overhead what remained of a monorail track dangled precipitously from a few strands of hypersteel. Worst of all were the corpses, mangled bodies littered the street. She imagined her parents crushed beneath an I-beam. Lilith brushed past her and she jumped, startled by the sudden stimulus. Amalia watched as she moved to the edge of the roof.

“What are you doing?” Amalia asked, her voice quite small in the chaos.

Lilith turned around, her heels sticking dangerously over the edge. She smiled and Amalia immediately regretted drawing her attention.

“What do you think I’m doing?” As she spoke her skin adopted the tacky consistency of asphalt tar, “I’m going to have a little fun.”

With that, the rapidly melting woman stepped backwards and plummeted off the roof. Amalia was relieved that she had left, but also quite mortified that someone like that could exist in the first place. Sure spirits were grotesque and often malevolent things, but they were just that - spirits. Lilith wasn’t just some ethereal bump in the night. Nervously Amalia thumbed the multi-tool’s blade.

“Alright, first things first,” Juno said, stepping forward herself, “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

Amalia didn’t immediately object, safe was good, safe was hopefully where her parents were. Safe, however, was most certainly not their current location. Overhead a massive creature flew by, circling once before landing on the roof behind them. Amalia yelped and backpedaled towards the roof’s edge. The creature was humanoid and stood head and shoulders above both Amalia and Juno. Insectoid wings buzzed erratically on its back and a pair of glowing red eyes stared them down. Amalia glanced over her shoulder to see the several meter drop behind them. The parademon snarled at them and Juno stepped forward slightly, putting herself between Amalia and the beast.

“Okay, okay, relax,” Juneberry said, holding her hands out in a desperate attempt to calm the beast.

Unabated by Juno’s attempt at diplomacy the parademon moved forward, brandishing its talons. Amalia inhaled sharply, her hair began to writhe and grow pale. In her chest a heart beated, but it was not her own. No it was some foreign entity, and every throb of its mighty heart shook her bones to their core. The Ahuizotl Heart manifested in front of her, stealing her breath as it did. The fleshy organ floated several feet above the ground, dripping with blood. Juneberry glanced over to see the spirit floating towards the parademon and with panicked eyes glanced back towards Amalia.

“What in the world is that?” She exclaimed.

Amalia smiled weakly, trying to catch her breath, “That’s… Ahui.”

“YOU DARE STAND BEFORE AN EMISSARY OF CHALCHIUHTLICUE?” The disembodied heart boomed, throbbing violently in the face of the parademon.

Amalia wasn’t quite sure who Chalchiuhtlicue was, but she was thankful to have their emissary on her side. That said, the parademon still surged forward, claws and all. Multiple disembodied hands materialized from mid air, grabbing at the demon’s limbs and halting its charge. It screamed wildly and struggled against the ghostly hands. With Ahui’s every beat it summoned more and more palms to pile upon their attacker. The demon shrieked and managed to free one of its arms, slicing through the deluge of oncoming hands. Amalia inhaled sharply, her breath still stolen from Ahui’s manifestation.

“We… we need to… go,” She managed to squeak out, leaning against Juno for support.

“Wait, how many of those things can you create?” Juneberry asked, hooking her arm under Amalia’s armpit, “That thing is not something I’d have expected you to be capable of, kid.”

“Uhm… just the one,” Amalia answered, intentionally being vague. Of course Ahui wasn’t the only spirit she had access to, he was just the only ahuizotl heart she had access to. Afterall, she had learned that the less people that learned about her abilities, the better.

Trying their best to ignore the parademon’s screams and Ahui’s thunderclap oration, they moved towards the roof access stairwell. Quickly they descended into the bowels of the building, guided only by the scant light that managed to seep in through the windows. Unnatural screams echoed throughout the building, growing more bestial as they descended. Just as Amalia managed to catch her breath they reached ground level and burst out into the street. Zack and Lilith were both tearing into hordes of unmade monstrosities. Amalia cringed as Lilith reached out and melted clean through a screeching abomination.

“They’re everywhere…” Juneberry muttered.

Amalia pointed in a direction towards the heart of the city, “There’s a church that way, uhm, that’ll probably be where a lot of people go to hide… we should go that way.”

Juneberry nodded, “Zack! Lilith! We need to make a path down that road!”

“On it!” Zack shouted, cleaving through several creatures at once. Lilith, on the other hand, didn’t respond, but moved all the same.

Amalia felt something within her chest pop like a water balloon. Briny water filled her throat and she buckled over, coughing up seawater. Juneberry crouched next to her.

“Kid, what’s wrong?”

“Ahui’s dead…” She choked out.

From the rooftop the parademon issued a frightening scream, quickly accompanied by several others. Amalia shivered as several more sets of red glowing eyes appeared above them. In a matter of minutes they had become surrounded by the flying creatures, each of them ready to rip the group apart in moments.

 

[Ezrihel]

“Isra- dodge left!”

To say that things had gone from bad to worse would be the understatement of the decade, really. Rarely Althaus found himself grimacing in steely focus, and even rarer were he and Isra in solid agreement about the exact nature of a situation. The aristocrat had found that today of all days was just full of awful coincidences. Weren’t vacations supposed to be relaxing, fun experiences?

Instead of relaxing on a sunny balcony or poolside like he’d been assured, Ezrihel was facing down a very angry- what even was this thing? He thought the twisted creature used to be a civilian or military servant of sorts, what with it suited in dark armor. Not that it mattered very much what it used to be as it lunged towards the raven-haired medic with a clattering, chitinous maw and claws outstretched.

With grace unparalleled the fallen angel swung his blade up from his heels and caught the foul beast with a terrible arc up the back, sparks showering as his divine sword tore across it’s blackened metal armor. Whatever dark influence it was controlled by began to sear under the holy blessing of Aza’zayl’s Rose, thick green-black blood oozing from the wound like a cursed slick of tar. He had expected it to go down at this point, but instead it turned on him, pissed red optics glinting, and screeched in furious agony.

Well, he’d nearly cleaved one of those blasted damn wings off at the very least.

’Target left wing: ranged. Need to ground it. Priority: avoid strikes.’

He had learned very quickly just how sharp those razor wings really were, the thin gashes on his high cheek bled purple with the evidence of that fact from the last one he’d sundered twain from stem to stern.

Why was it always his pretty face that people went for first? Didn’t they know that some of the strongest skeletal structures were found in the facial bones? He figured it was to spite him for some sort of karmic misdeed he’d long forgotten about or a divine prank from Neheia themselves as retribution.

Raphael took the opportunity to dive under the spear that whizzed past where his neck had been just a second prior, and tumbled in the direction of the dark-haired cultist-man they’d found struggling against a couple of these wretched creatures in an alleyway, a third monster not far behind.

“Tobias, you said your name was, right?” Isra quested, unflinching as the AI construct P’thaeyl laid several plasma rounds into the parademon’s remaining useful wing. The sound was visceral and hot as the robot’s guns whirred, accompanied by the insect’s screaming melody. The trio knew it was bound to alert others, they’d have to leave soon before a swarm of those flying bastards arrived.

“Aye.” The sapphire robed cultist answered from his place knelt against the smooth masonry walls. He was clutching at his side gingerly, holding the frayed threads of his clothes closed against his bleeding, and catching his breath.

“Isra. I’m a medic, let me look at that laceration.” The alien duo had arrived in the knick of time, but the occultic knight-errant was leery to make a great deal of it. Isra could see that the injury was enough to make him uncomfortable, though it was far from disabling the man.

“Please, don’t worry about me. I am sure there are others who could use the attention more.” He stood with a hushed groan and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword. He needed to get back into the fight, help that blonde out.

“Nonsense, Tobias. You’re hurt and I’m offering help now. Don’t act proud.”

The young man wouldn’t exactly have called it pride, more like abysmally low self-worth. Yet he relented and nodded, allowing Isra to tend to his injury: a long but thankfully shallow one, the doctor was quick to discover.

’Deploy Combat Suite: Shield.’ Ezrihel quickly commanded his robotic companion. He’d worked alongside field medics in the past, knew that Isra would appreciate the cover as the charismatic duelist worked to push back the two remaining daemons.

Well, normally he was pretty damn charismatic. The two rasping cretins in front of him, however, didn’t seem to care much for tact or grace or any sort of social aptitude. To them, he was simply a duelist. A pain in the ass and a serious threat at that, it seemed. The battered, wingless one was growing increasingly impatient as its strength slipped away alongside the rancid sludge-like ichor dripping from it’s form. The less mangled one clattered its mandibles, as if answering its partner’s feral hissing.


Ez settled into a perfectly poised stance, staring down the hungry silver length of Rose at the disgusting beasts before them. The daemons were corrupted. They were tainted by the marring touch of Ka’shanti, as far as the inquisitor was concerned. It was his job to purify them, and he knew that he would relish that accomplishment.



For a brief moment, there was tense peace and terse silence in the confines of the narrow battleground as the three combatants studied each other.



Ez darted forward like a cobra, aiming to thrust Rose into the hollow of the injured one’s neck and sever its ugly head.

He was, however, not expecting the ground to begin violently shaking as if the entire damn island was going to tear itself in half. He missed his mark by a few inches as the ground swayed sickeningly, the vibrating silver instead plunging into the side of the monster’s neck, only slicing one of the intended arteries.

The Andromedan cursed his luck as he staggered forward and, unable to keep his footing steady amongst the sudden earthen heaving, fell against the wall to brace himself. He could feel it, deep in his bones he could feel the overwhelming presence of something new, something drawing his piney green eyes up towards the darkening sky.

What in the name of- “Into the shield!” He shouted as he turned to throw himself and P’thaeyl into the safety of the barrier.

A massive reptilian paw swatted through the upper levels of the buildings the four unlucky sods found themselves between, sending debris and rubble tumbling down into the alley and street below. The red glow of the bubble barrier held up for a few seconds against the downpour as the sky went dark. Then the shield cracked. It chipped orange then yellow before it snapped out of existence, all in under a scant handful of seconds.

Everything was dark when Tobias came too. It’d all happened so fast, he wasn’t really sure what had hit them. Had the floors above them exploded? Had he seen a paw? In the sky? He blinked hard, his forehead ached dully from where something hard had smacked him no doubt. He tried to sit up and lift his cheek off the dirty cold ground but froze when he heard a voice sound from somewhere directly above him in the dark.

“Don’t move.”

“Doc?” The young man laid still. This was an interesting tomb he found himself in.

“We’re under a lot of rubble, between the remaining walls and the ground.” Tobias groaned quietly, exasperatedly, and the medic continued. “Are you pinned or hurt?”

The Gal’skap devotee moved each of his limbs and very gingerly explored the two inches to either side of his body. “I’m okay.”

Isra sighed as the dust settled and grimaced as a jutt of rebar shoved its way into the flesh of his shoulder and ruined his good military jacket with his purple blood. At least, he wouldn’t bleed too much as long as he didn’t pull himself off the twisted steel. “Good. Ezrihel or P’thaeyl will help dig us out. I tried to stop the rubble from crushing you. ... I am afraid that if I move, the rest of the floor will fall down on us.”

“I-” Tobias faltered for a second, unsure of how to respond. “You didn’t have to save me. Now you’re trapped here with me.” The cultist’s tone turned bitter, Isra was sharp to notice the change, the airy defeated breath of self-loathing if he was correctly recognizing human emotions. Assuming the man under him was a human, of course- he’d seemed human enough at least.

“And what type of doctor would I be if I healed you and then let you get smooshed all of three minutes later? By a building, hm?” Raph’s keen inhuman ears heard the rubble next to them being shifted with a soft scrape of metal on concrete. His chest ached from the cold of the steel rebar piercing him, but he could manage. He would manage, even if it meant getting off the damn field and working with the other medical specialists up top.

Honestly, Israphael would be fine as long as he could get into his first aid kit and patch himself up with that med-gel concoction he’d made. He’d be lying to say that it wasn’t painful to be speared through the shoulder though. He hoped that the man he’d gone through all this trouble for could at least appreciate his willing discomfort.

This was why he prefered a ‘desk job’ at this point, even with all the tedious red tape and vague nonsensical politicking the higher-ups engaged in. At least it wasn’t being impaled by rebar for the sake of heroics and morality.

Tobias flinched as something warm and wet dripped down onto his chin from the same direction as the medic’s voice. It smelled... oddly metallic, distinctly like copper coins. “Isra, are you... Bleeding?”

“Ah, yes, I am. Sorry about that. You might want to tilt your head while we wait. I can promise you won’t catch anything from my blood if that worries you.”

----- * ----- *** ----- * -----​

The lavender skinned woman thrust the bladed head of her hasta up and into the gut of a once-civie with a frosty proficiency. It didn’t matter to her that they’d been once-alive, it didn’t matter that their soul once had a story threaded through its fibers. Her glassy white eyes studied the street: lamp posts, recycling bins, store displays, once-people and errant shrubbery all seemed to converge on the reaper and the cowboy.

She was a proficient warrior. Ruedlen had trained all of her adult life to be a warrior-priestess, a loyal and efficient servant of Koneas until the eventual fated-date that her threads unraveled and she would be permanently undone. Today was not that day though, she knew that with an unprecedented amount of faith. She’d rapidly learned that Arthur was a brilliant marksman and a gunpower based guns-expert of sorts.

She’d already seen him pull out not one, not two, but three different ranges of firearms depending on what had suited their cooperation better in the moment. The death priestess smirked at the weathered man as the heels of his leather boots scuffed against the ground.

“You know Arthur, you could think about getting upgrades to those guns if you wanted to. I’m pretty sure someone like you could manage some crazy shots with a good plasma rifle.” Ruedlen wrenched her spear free from what could only be described as... perhaps at one time someone’s pet... something.

Morgan, who was ducked safely behind cover, gave a wistful sigh and responded near-playfully with a chuckle as he reloaded, “nah, nah. I think iam fine with my good, reliable “traditional”- as you call ‘em- guns.”

He weren’t quite sure what this ‘plasma’ nonsense this woman was talking about was, really now. Sounded like some fancy sciencey hoo-ha that wild Marko Dragic feller’d wanna mess around with, and anything that dealt with crazy towers and calling down lightning strikes he figured, well, it was probably just best he stay far from that stuff.

“But you wouldn’t need to waste time reloading.” She prodded back at his absence and took a few more steps forward. Between the two of them, they were making decent progress down the street, cutting through the much-less-sentient crowd that now shuffled and rushed in the road.

“Well maybe I like reloadin’.” He stepped from behind the barricade of debris and took aim, settling the sights of his Springfield Rifle on the forehead of a particularly nasty looking feller with glowing red goggles plastered to its face. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. The muzzle flash lit up the brushed metal barrel of his gun for only an instant before the grey locust-critter’s head popped in a fine green blood mist. Real nasty alright.

“What are these things?” He ventured, wondering if the woman ahead of him knew anything more about this er, situation than he did.

“Corrupted constructs. Got intel from P’thaeyl that locals call them ‘unmade’.” More begoggled wasp-chitterers and profaned husks encroached onto their position. Even with their combined skills the swarm was quickly becoming overwhelming. They were at a very clear numbers-disadvantage as they held fast in front of a busted up antique’s store.

“Huh. ‘Unmade’.” He figured the name made enough sense, but it left a question in his mind as they both sheltered behind a hunk of rubble to avoid bolts of laser fired in their direction. “What’s unmakin’ ‘em you reckon?”

“Don’t know, Morgan. Some corrupting force of entropy? We’re gonna need to fall back in a second, though. Cover’s not gonna hold for long.”

He grunted, taking one last chance to peek over the barricade and pop a shot off at a dead-man-walking before ducking into the store. “Antiques” they called ‘em, but they was basically brand new in his days. This world never stopped making his head spin. Then he saw it sittin’ pretty up on the wall.

His azure eyes landed right on that beautiful gun:

A polished silver and lacquered rosewood sawed-off Winchester eighteen-eighty-seven, lever-action shotgun, and it was his now.

 

[Arbiter]

By the time a gargantuan dinosaur had stomped onto the playing field, the situation had already started to seem quite dire.

Everywhere you looked, something new and ghastly burst from the steadily flooding streets. Back in the safety of her lair on Mesa Roja, Dr. Olivia Octavius fluttered from screen to screen, doing her best to offer ground support to her space dragon partner on the ground. What Ridley couldn’t see from his place intimidating Roy Mustang inside the new makeshift forward command post was just how hopeless the situation was beginning to look.

The mouse and the ice robot continued to battle the parademon. Both fighters were stronger than the last time Olivia had clocked them — Dante’s Abyss, two years prior — and if the reports coming in from online were true, the mouse had bested one of these winged freaks at least once before.

“Hey Koppy,” Mickey shouted, “tee him up for me, would ya?!”

Kopaka didn’t really know what ‘tee him up’ meant, but the context clues were enough: the diminutive creature wanted him to attack, and attack he would.

The Toa of Ice charged forward, the sheer power of his Kanohi Miru propelling him forward. He lifted his ice sword up, prepared to launch the most powerful blow he could at the creature, when suddenly Godzilla’s gigantic foot crashed down in the space between them.

Mickey stumbled, the roof of the sinking building he’d perched upon cracking and coming undone from the pressure of Godzilla’s very steps. Try as he might to regain his balance, he couldn’t — and so he fell through one of the cracks and into the watery depths of the destroyed, flooded shop below him.

Kopaka’s gaze zeroed in. On his right, the parademon still buzzed around Godzilla’s ankle. On his left, his only ally — albeit a tentative one — had disappeared.

A choice.

Octavius turned to another monitor.

A group of civilians huddled in the corner of an alleyway, encroached on two sides by parademons. The monsters licked their lips, chittering and buzzing as they approached their next victims, when suddenly a hail of machine gun fire from a hovercraft above started pelting them.

“Not in your wildest dreams,” Sgt. Swift scowled, reloading the weapon and leaping from her craft. She landed squarely between the group and one of the parademons, the rest of her crew dropping to defend the civvies from the other side. The people stared for a moment at the blonde bombshell sergeant now standing right before their very eyes — for awhile, they’d assumed she was merely folklore.

Yet here she was, in the flesh. Saving them.

The ground split beneath their feet.

“Help!” one screeched, prompting Sgt. Swift to spin around on her heel. The blonde could only gasp in horror as the cobblestones beneath the civilians crumbled, taking each of the eight innocents into the depths of the island.

“Mustang,” Swift yelled into the radio clipped to her Kevlar vest, “you here yet?”

“Affirmative, Sergeant,” Mustang replied, still glaring into Ridley’s sinister visage.

“We’ve got a problem,” the sergeant’s voice buzzed over his radio. “This whole island is coming a—ahhh!”

A blast of green energy straight from one of the parademon’s rifles smashed into Sgt. Swift’s soldier, knocking her off balance and out of focus. She turned around to try to get her bearings, only to be met with a parademon foot to her chest that sent her collapsing into the same hole the civilians had just tumbled down. She yelped, but after a few seconds, couldn’t be heard or seen.

“Swift!” Mustang called. “Swift, report!”

Static.

Mustang whipped around back to Ridley. “I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“Make time,” Ridley sneered. “I’m here to help.”

“Prove it,” Mustang nearly screamed just as the foundations of their forward command post began to shake. Hawkeye stood just a few feet the commanding officer’s shoulder, pistol aimed solidly at Ridley, when she noticed the cracks in the ground snaking their way between the alchemist’s ankles.

“Sir!”

The ground split, and Mustang fell. He scrambled in midair, reaching for something to grasp onto, but every effort he made failed. He felt himself slipping into the chasm when, suddenly, Ridley’s claws tore into his jacket, yanking him from certain doom and tossing him back onto solid — albeit, steadily flooding — ground.

The soldier took a deep breath as he pushed himself onto his knees, then glanced at Ridley.

“What are the doctor’s orders?” Ridley asked.

Back on Mesa Roja, Liv didn’t quite know what to say. “Hate to break it to you,” she sighed, “but that Sergeant Swift was right. It looks like island is fully coming apart at the seams.”

***

“Do we think the dinosaur is causing all of this destruction?” Amalia Eckern asked as she sprinted across a rooftop alongside Juno.

“No clue,” the fae shrugged. “But it’s not a bad guess!”

Amalia stopped in her tracks, turning to face the huge monster stampeding through Nausicaa’s town square. She watched as the dinosaur snatched a parademon out of the air, crushing it in its monstrous grip.

Is it… on our side?

The girl blinked. “We should find Zack and Lilith.”

In the streets below, Zack Fair staggered back, crashing into Lilith as a swarm of unmade plants swiped and encroached upon them. The sinister-looking woman snarled at the blue-tinted vines as they whipped towards the pair.

The raven-haired young man swiped his giant sword over her head, slicing the vines in two before they could reach her. She glanced over her shoulder.

“I probably could’ve handled that.”

“You’re welcome.”

And then the ground beneath them began to tremble as well.

***

All throughout the island, it was beginning to become clear that ‘the island’ wouldn’t be a proper moniker soon enough. ‘Islands’ more like.

Chara Dreemurr and Tobias, far flung from each other, carried out similar missions, doing what they could to bat away the unmade specimen from innocents. The mage found herself backed into a corner, trying her best to protect nearby citizens, when she felt the earth crack.

Miles away, the follower of Gal’skap swept through the streets, blue robes billowing behind him. The ends had grown damp from the light flooding he’d been forced to trudge through. He continued to press forward, blade in hand, certain of his mission. After being saved by the blonde and his other cohorts, Tobias had volunteered to check the perimeter of the small neighborhood they’d ended up in. He didn’t know exactly what was happening here, didn’t know who any of these other people were, but if they were here under common purpose, they would be allies for the moment. For their cause.

Darkseid would fall.

Tonight?

Tobias staggered. The world around him began to shudder and shake, and he could feel a sudden cold wash over his bones. His eyes popped wide open, and the world around him began to blur.

You think… you wield that power?

The wall beside him exploded, and a litany of unmade vines reached out and wrapped around his extremities, pulling him and trying to yank him into the wall itself. He turned and placed his eyes on the corrupted foliage and then jerked away, ripping the blue-glowing flora off of him.

You don’t.

The vines snaked back into the wall.

He panted, and clutched his weapon harder.

That hadn’t been the voice of Gal’skap.

***

“Does the sun usually go down here?” one of the turtles wondered idly as the now quintet of ninjas fought off the Unmade.

“Not… often…” Doc called out, swerving beneath the swipe of a corrupted octopus.

Leonardo glanced up at the Crossroads’ star. He hadn’t done a lot of thinking about how this solar system worked, but he supposed it had to work, somehow, right?

McNinja was on the same track. These things had to come from somewhere, right?

What was their… origin?

“What in tarnation—” Arthur Morgan swore a few streets over. He asked his question from before again, louder this time. “What the hell are these things?”

Unmade. The word still batted around in his brain, confusingly. It made sense, but also… explained a big fat heap of nothing? The cowboy might’ve been one of the most talked about fighters in the galaxy, but ever since he’d defused from the red spandex-clad loudmouth, he’d made a point to keep himself mighty out of the loop of the more weird shit happening here. Couldn’t a man draw some fish and search for his icy robot pardner in peace?

“Annoying,” Ezrihel shouted from not too far off, “that’s what they are.”

Nearby, Ruedlen was checking in on Isra after the incident with the building. Ezrihel was finding himself less in need of a check in and more in need of venting his frustration.

The blonde Andromedan ran his rapier through the heart of a nearby shambling unmade zombie, running up upon the monster until their faces nearly touched. He found himself increasingly irritated with this rabble, and with the collection of random fools gathered here to try and fend them off.

Did anyone have a handle on this, or was he going to have to volunteer his considerable military expertise?!

The ground exploded in front of him as a tentacle lifted a blonde, female soldier into the air. She yelped — altogether not safe and sound — as the monstrous limb yanked her back into the newly formed chasm. Ezrihel peered over the edge, and was surprised to see there wasn’t a clear bottom.

Was there… more… down there?

“General Althaus,” Arthur drawled from behind him, “the box that fell off that lady. It’s talkin’.”

Ezrihel glanced where the cowboy pointed. Sure enough, a tiny walkie talkie lay in a heap of rubble, and sure enough, a voice was coming through.

“I repeat,” Roy Mustang said, “the foundations of our forward command post appear to be compromised. We’re trying to see if it’s still safe…”

Footsteps from behind brought Arthur’s pistol up and Ezrihel’s rapier to Tobias’ throat.

The General lowered his weapon. “You shouldn’t sneak up like that,” he scoffed, giving the blue-robed warrior a once-over. He looked… different. Shaken, at least a little. “What?”

Tobias gulped. “Something is very wrong here.”

***

Near the center of the island, Doc McStuffins stumbled upon them: the medical transports that had started to, at least with marginal success, evacuate the most gravely injured from the island.

Some City of Hope forces had set up around what looked to be the epicenter of the strange quakes and cracks that had begun to plague the island’s surface — a huge crater in the middle of the city. One of the large, glowing black tentacles writhed in the center of it, seemingly having gotten itself stuck in the mud as it tried to pierce the island’s surface and fight the incoming medical forces.

McStuffins stood at the edge of the crater and watched as some of Comstock’s elite guards kept the frantic limb at bay as they dragged out the last corpse — or, survivor, she couldn’t quite tell — from the crater. McStuffins recognized it idly as one of the sort of half-fish, half-human creatures that lived beneath Opealon’s oceans. She turned back to the tentacle. That she didn’t recognize at all.

Come.

She felt her brain start to vibrate. She’d barely heard the word — nearly didn’t register it — as her feet started to move without her permission.

It’s alright. I am here.

She trudged through the crater dirt. By the time anyone around her noticed, she’d already gotten too close to the tentacle, stood before it and watched as it lifted up, towered over her.

Kneel.

She obeyed.

“Whoa! Little girl, get out of there!” someone shouted, but McStuffins couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear… anything…

…except the sounds of her bones crushing as the tentacle smashed into her tiny body.

***

Another doctor watched in horror as the tentacle mauled that little girl.

Olivia Octavius didn’t have much in the way of ‘good guy juice,’ but watching a child injured like that — it wasn’t fun for anyone. Hope soldiers charged in, beating back the tentacle and dragging away the mangled doctor. From Liv’s vantage point, she couldn’t tell if the girl was alive or dead.

Dead, I hope, she thought. If not, that looks… rough.

Kneel.

Olivia’s knees hit the floor. Her eyes opened wide, and she felt something inching up her spine, crawling up, beneath the apparatus holding her extra arms.

She shook as she struggled with all her might to fend it off. As the shuddering feeling crept into the back of her neck, she screeched.

You think you can hide out here?

“Doctor?”

You think anyone is safe?

“Olivia!”

You are fools.

She screamed again, at the top of her lungs, and finally, the chilling feeling released her.

She lay on the floor for a moment, breathing heavily. Ridley’s voice chattered in her ear.

“I’m alive,” she finally responded, picking herself up and stumbling back to her monitors. “I’m alive, but Ridley…”

Her eyes fell upon the screen that showed the crater. The tentacle had disappeared in the wake of its attack on the young doctor, but in its place was not a normal hole. It was a hole in the shape of an… an…

… an Omega symbol?

Flood waters rushed through the crater, but they never entered the hole. It was almost as if something… some force or other… was stopping it.

“Ridley,” Olivia shivered, “I think this may be worse than we thought.”

The Nausicaa Incident: Act 2 begins now.

The island is beginning to break apart. Sinking has largely halted or at least slowed greatly, and caverns seem to be popping up around. Explore if you want. Or don’t.

If you find yourself near the crater in the center of this lopsided island, you’ll see the Omega-shaped tunnel. It will not yet let you in; seems to be blocked by some sort of force field.

Sergeant Swift is missing in action.

Jar Jar Binks is missing in action.

Mickey Mouse is missing in action.

Doc McStuffins is gravely injured and removed from the playing field.

The next update will arrive in approximately a week.

 

[Beatrix III]

It had been a few hours since Opealon had called for aid. All three compatriots had received alerts of some kind sent to their phones. It wasn’t long after that before Beatrix’s private line lit up like a Christmas tree. She had excused herself in the middle of making out with Proudmoore to take the call. While flustered, the blonde knew that it had to be an important call. After about twenty minutes Beatrix emerged from the living room back into the bedroom to find the sorceress fast asleep. The redhead sighed. The two of them had been so busy lately that neither of them had had any chance to have some time together. Every part of her body ached with desire. Letting out of a long sigh she moved to Jaina’s side of the bed and pulled the blankets up and tucked her in. With a gentle kiss to the forehead, the Mistress climbed into bed on her side. The two of them hardly slept as it is. She wasn’t going to rob her lover of precious sleep.

Daytime came quick. Beatrix hardly managed any sleep, but this wasn’t new. She constantly had nightmares and night terrors from the influence of the blood magic in her body. By the time Jaina finally roused from her sleep and stretched languidly beneath the cool blankets, Beatrix had prepared a breakfast for her at the table in their room.

“Morning, beautiful.” The Mistress said with a wide smile.

“Come. Eat. We have urgent business to discuss.” She said, laying out her elven blades on the trunk at the base of the bed.

“Is this about that phone call you got last night?” Jaina probed, rubbing her eyes and pulling her nightgown closed against the cool morning breeze.

“Yes. Opealon reached out to my old assassination number to request aid. They’re offering a hefty fee in return for assistance. I had to take the phone call because when someone contacts me through that line there is no turning back. Or at least that’s how I used to operate when I was taking contracts.” The Mistress took a cup of steaming coffee and brought it over to Proudmoore.

Jaina clasped both of her chilly hands around the warm cup and took a sip.

“I’ve already briefed Stephen. He’s in Arcadia securing our transport.”

Beatrix unsheathed one of her elven blades and examined the edge. They rarely required sharpening, but it was habitual that she check the edges of her bladed weapons. Her longsword had been cut in half by the original Gavin during their escapades in Merania.

“Are we sure on the intelligence of this mission? We’re sure it’s Darkseid? The reason I ask is,” she took another sip from her coffee and straightened her posture on the bed. “Opealon hates magic users. We’d almost immediately be pariahs.”

“I’m in it for the payday, love. If they want to arrest us after we’ve solved whatever crisis is going on we can easily fight our way out. You leveled an entire city when you saw me…y’know.” Beatrix sheathed the blade she was holding and moved to the wardrobe in the room to begin piecing together her outfit.

Jaina still looked slightly concerned as she took another sip from her coffee. The Mistress noticed this and moved to her side of the bed and knelt, placing a hand on her arm.

“We’ll be okay, my love. I promise.”

Jaina closed her eyes and sighed. “Just because you’re literally unkillable, doesn’t mean it doesn’t kill me to see you get hurt. Just try to remember that…”

“I know, love.” Beatrix stood up and planted a gentle kiss on the sorceress’ forehead. “I’ll never forget it.”

A familiar ring from within the redheads’ bra made her fish a phone out of her bosom.

“What’s up?” She spoke into the device, moving back to the wardrobe, deciding on a pair of black and red clothes to go under her armor.

“Does it have a bar? Fuck yes. Get that one then. Blondie can afford it. Use the Arcadian Express card. We’ll meet you there.”

A grin had formed on Jaina’s lips as Beatrix closed the phone. “Some things never change.” She said with a laugh.

“If you think I’m flying sober, you’re crazy.”

***​

Everything had been going well. Beatrix had emptied a bottle of Arcadian liquor during their flight to Opealon.

“Please return to your seats. T-Minus five minutes until re-entry.” The cabin AI spoke over the radio system.

The rented transport craft shuddered as the retrorockets fired and began to slow the craft down. A few moments into their deceleration a loud bang shook the craft, throwing Beatrix from her chair and spilling her drink. Before she could get a word out the master alarms from the cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree. Another violent shudder shook the craft as it entered Opealon’s atmosphere.

“Reentry system failure. Multiple points of hull damage detected. Autopilot disabled. Escape pod systems frozen and unresponsive.”

A field of plasma began to form around the spacecraft as it plummeted through the atmosphere towards Nausicaa. A debris field had formed around the deteriorating craft as further stress was put upon the breaking hull.

“Blondie!” Beatrix had sobered up rather quickly and had managed to stumble over to Jaina.

She was still strapped into her chair, but she was holding her head as if one of the bumps they had experienced had thrown her into the ceiling.

“Babe. Snap out of it. We need a shield!” The Mistress had placed a hand to the sorceress’ cheek and was trying to rouse her. Seventeen was behind her who threw a glass of water onto the blonde which made her jerk awake.

“Hull integrity thirty percent.” Another voice spoke over the intercom.

“Not to rush you, babe…but we need some arcane assistance here or this is going to be one short-lived trip,” Beatrix said with some urgency.

As the small spacecraft dropped under five thousand feet a new set of alarms went off.

“Descent speed at suicidal levels. Please activate retrorockets…retrograde rocket system unavailable.”

“This feels familiar,” Seventeen said as he held onto an overhead bin for support.

Jaina shook her head free of the water and grabbed her staff which had been thrown to the floor. As both the inhabitants, rescuers, and unmaking forces bared witness to the crashing spacecraft they watched as it slammed into the ground and erupted into a chaotic fireball, cratering the city street and throwing the nearby unmaking forces away from the blast radius. As the blast cleared and the billowing smoke began to get dragged away from the ocean breeze, a single glowing pink orb remained in the middle of the crash site. With a wave of her hand, Jaina expanded the bubble until it flashed away in a brilliant display of arcane energy and the trio was able to step out from the center of the crater.

They had arrived.

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang stared down the reptilian eyes of Ridley. The thing had just saved him from what would have been at the least a crippling fall. But did he even dare to trust it?

“So I’m supposed to believe that you’ve had a change of heart, is that it?” He scowled.

“No. But Darkseid owes a debt.” The Space Pirate withdrew to a comfortable crouch, smirking at him with it’s too large mouth. “The Unmaking knocks upon your doorstep once again. Whether you can call me ally matters less than whether you can afford to ignore my offer.”

This creature had tried to kill him mere months ago. It had taunted him with the deaths of his men, it had mocked him with knowledge they both needed to face this threat. A massive bellowing roar reverberated through the room, followed seconds later by another tremor that shook the remaining portions of the church that hadn’t collapsed yet. Mustang grit his teeth.

“You want to help, then fine! I need someone to-”

“Hold, firefly.” Ridley grinned, “I have offered to help, provided you give sufficient payment for my aid.”

“What? I’m not in- That’s between you and the Hopers! This isn’t my-”

Even before he finished the sentence, Ridley had closed the distance between them, his elongated head inches from Mustang’s face as he loomed over the State Alchemist. Across the room, Lieutenant Hawkeye had leveled her rifle with a look of extreme focus. She caught Mustang’s eye as he glanced over. They both knew at this range it wouldn’t be enough. He made the faintest of movements with his hand, and her posture relaxed by a small amount, though the rifle remained fixed on Ridley’s skull.

“You are the one who will secure my aid, Firefly. If you do not, I shall do as I please here. The choice is on your head.”

Mustang furrowed his brow, forcing away his discomfort and refusing to back down from the monster in front of him.

“I will arrange suitable repayment for your deeds here, then. But only after the day is done.”

The saurian tilted it’s head slightly, gazing at Mustang with one cold eye. Then it chuckled, and drew backwards a step, still smiling to itself. Mustang’s mind raced as he glanced about the crumbling church structure. They needed more time!

“The Unmaking has already torn this island out of the sky, and now it’s trying to tear the whole place to pieces! The tentacles and whatever thing they have that is making that goddamn roaring! I need someone strong enough to Stop those unmade monsters long enough for us to evacuate the rest of the civilians! Keep their focus off destroying the island and we might be able to get some people out of this, yet!”

“Lacking firepower?” Ridley chuckled, a few flecks of flame escaping the edges of his crocodilian smile, wisping upwards into thin trails of smoke. The large creature moved towards an opening that had been torn in the church’s roof. “The deal is struck.”

Without another word the Space Pirate leapt, wings beating up a cloud of dust and soot from the debris as it took flight. Mustang coughed into the sleeve of his uniform, squinting against the cloud. Hawkeye moved over towards him, her rifle in one hand.

“That could go very poorly, Sir.” She frowned.

“I know,” Mustang nodded, “That thing is powerful, but whether or not it can do anything to help is less important right now than keeping it oriented away from civilians. If it can buy us even a few minutes in the process that’ll be worth the risk.”

He reached for his receiver, only to realize he had dropped it in his desperate attempt to escape the tremors.

“Damn.” He glanced back up, taking the communicator that Hawkeye was already holding out to him as he moved over towards the table Fuery had claimed for his equipment. Several receivers and a notebook ringed a map of the island. Artistic clouds had been drawn under some edges of the island. The Nausicaa it displayed was still pristine, floating in the sky. How long had this place stood on the edge of this disaster without even knowing?

“Patch me through to Sergeant Swift, Fuery!” Mustang ordered, “ We need to know where her force was last spotted.”

“Right away, Sir.”

Mustang glanced towards one of the windows, watching a massive tendril slowly crush a four story building a few blocks away. Damn, they didn’t have long to get people off this rock…

“Done!”

“Sergeant Swift, do you copy?” He spoke immediately, turning back to the map, “The foundations of this position don’t seem secure much longer. What is your location?” He frowned at the silent communicator, glancing towards Lieutenant Hawkeye before he tried again.

“We’re getting reports of more holes opening from the tremors, sir. And something about, caverns?" Hawkeye frowned, removing her own headset, "It isn’t just water beneath us.” Mustang furrowed his brow, holding the communicator in front of his face.

“I repeat, the foundations of our forward command post appear to be compromised. We’re trying to see if it’s still safe to hold this position. We need an update on your location, Sergeant!”

“This is General Althus, I hear you.” An unfamiliar voice came from the other end, “Your Sergeant is not able to respond right now as she’s just been pulled back into the floor by an obscenely large tendril. Now I want some answers. What in the name of Vaidehi is going on here?”

Who the hell is this? General? Mustang’s brow furrowed. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Mustang of Markov. What is your location? We need to find-”

“Let’s see,” the irritated voice cut in, “At the corner of… Rubble and Broken? This isn’t my island, how should I know? What are these foul daemons?”

“The Unmaking is making an assault on the island.” Mustang barked a rapid explanation into the receiver, “They seem to be tearing it apart underneath us.”

There was muffled conversation from the other end then the voice returned.

“The gunman says there’s a building that had two spires not far from us. Perhaps two blocks away?” Mustang glanced at Fuery who was already pouring over the map for a possible location. If Sergeant Swift had been pulled under the water then…

“Calling these things ‘the unmade’ is all well and good, Lieutenant Colonel. What does that mean?” The voice continued, “You were expecting this assault?”

“Not directly. But the Unmaking has launched an assault on Markov previously, one we barely held back. Watch yourself with these creatures. For all it’s seemingly random carnage, our enemy is directed with a frighteningly sound set of tactics. I quite doubt that we’ll be able to save this island.”

“Fortunate that it wasn’t the whole city then.” was the somewhat dry reply from the receiver.

“Lieutenant Colonel, they’re probably…” Hawkeye began, then cut off as she saw the color drain from Mustang’s face.

“It’s not fortunate…It’s intentional…” Mustang spoke, more to himself than to anyone else, “If the Unmaking wanted to attack all of New Hope it could do so. But the Unmaking chose to attack Nausicaa.”

“Tactics amidst Carnage.” The voice came over the receiver, “You think this is a surgical strike, then?”

“We’re always two steps behind them, dammit!” Mustang grit his teeth, “Listen to me. Get whatever men you can, General, and get into these tunnels. Whatever is going on here, my gut says that’s what this is all about.”

He didn't even wait to hear Ezrihel’s affronted response as he pocketed the communicator and turned back to his team.

“We’re going into the tunnels.” He commanded. Hawkeye nodded in response, shouldering her rifle. The rest of his squad readied their weapons with

“You’re in charge of coordinating the evacuation, Master Sergeant. Find a safer base of operations, you three are with him.”

Fuery panicked for a brief instant, then saluted, “Ah-right! Yes Sir!”

“The rest of you are with me.” Mustang spoke, stalking towards the crumbling edge of the gash that had been torn through the floor. Stared down into the darkness. There wasn't just water down there. Something was strange about this island.

His men tied off the secure points, then a trio of ropes went sailing over the edge into the darkness. One of the ropes was handed to him, and Mustang began to pick his route down into the darkness.

“Don’t forget that you’re our lifeline, Fuery!” He called with a somewhat callous amount of cheer, “We’re all counting on you!”

With a faint laugh, Mustang repelled his way down into the shadows.

 

[Arbiter]

Mustang, Hawkeye, and the rest of their crew rappelled down into the deeper reaches of the caverns between Nausicaa, relatively unbothered for the moment.

“It’s too quiet down here,” Hawkeye whispered as they clambered down. “Gives me a bad feeling, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“I know what you mean,” Mustang nodded. “I know what you mean.”

Mustang and Hawkeye rolled a one out of three. They’ve avoided a chance encounter… for now.

 

[Lilith]

Lilith knew what she came here for. And yet, she found herself wrapped up in everything else. These hero types were just so fascinating.

Like the petite, feisty Juno. It only took a glance for her to recognize the fun she could have with this woman.

It was all the more gratifying discovering what made Juno uncomfortable, what got under her skin, what made her crack under pressure. Lilith found it almost too easy. Almost.

At the very least, what was supposed to be an uneventful boat ride turned into an interesting appetizer for what would follow.

Lilith was greatly amused by the offense caused by having her skin on display. Although that was far from the only thing Juno found offensive.

Oh, and how could she forget those ears? How they reacted in kind when Juno became flustered. It gave the sadist a slew of cruel thoughts.

Speaking of weaknesses to exploit, she took note of Juno's protective nature of the kid that somehow managed to commandeer the ship. She grew bolder, challenging the fae directly, daring her to retaliate. Alas, the test was interrupted by that overconfident prick with the big sword.

Juno learned one thing about the mysterious lady from their close encounter—her breath smelled of heady wine and battery acid.

The trip would've been perfect, were it not for one small annoyance.

Lilith hated children.

The kid, Amalia, looked like any average, troubled, homeless teenager. That's about where everything normal about them stopped, though. It didn't take much searching to figure out they were a curse user. Their aura was weak and unstable, but Lilith was absolutely sure they had some control over the supernatural. Judging by her imprints, her technique must revolve around manipulating cursed spirits. Seems like they're all sharing the same space.

They were also evasive when it came to their reasons for going on this suicidal expedition. It couldn't be because they were trying to be a hero; they could hardly take care of themselves. Lilith guessed the most likely reason was they wanted to save someone in particular. If that was the case… it might be worth sticking around, if only to see their shock and grief.

Lilith wasn't any better about making her intentions clear. Well, perhaps everyone else knew, they just didn't want to say. She barely made an effort to put up a mask of altruism, yet she saw the value in keeping up the charade, until the time came to crush the would-be saviours at their lowest.

Govermorne. The name repeated in her head.

So this corruption ultimately seeks to bring absolute ruin to planets. How dull. On one hand, it's really not my problem, and creating chaos to balance the order is commendable. On the other hand, whoever is in charge of this is probably lame. Like that's it? Universal annihilation? So passé. Who am I going to torment then?

She'd made up her mind. If people wanted to fight the Unmade, that was fine by her. However, as it stood, she'd use the Unmade as a convenient excuse to wreak havoc upon the innocent and the righteous.


Perched atop the sails, Lilith took the greatest fall when the crew splintered into the shore. Yet, she seemed the least affected by it.

She breathed in the acrid smog polluting the atmosphere, shivering in delight. It may have been a problem for others, but not for her. She was well suited to environments like this, the palpable despair permeating the suburb comforted her. It certainly helped that her body bonded to the lethal chemicals she produced. Death surrounded all, but it wasn't enough to see corpses floating through the streets and piling up under collapsed houses. She had to add to the body count herself, lest these mindlessly devoted monsters take all the credit.

"Oh how I've longed to return to the battlefield! Maybe this world isn't so bad after all," she proclaimed rapturously. "Why are you all looking at me like that?" Ignoring the concerned stares from the party of 3, she examined the wanton carnage closely. Crumbling, flooded streets below, flowing with blood and tainted sea water. Burning buildings held up to the sky, caved in, fallen over, or on the brink of collapse. Seems nowhere is free from danger. Just how she likes it.

Warped aberrations patrolled just about every inch of the hellscape, but the most prevalent were the flying bug men. She focused her supernatural sense, trying to get a read on one. She quickly conceived a conclusion.

Unmade essence held many parallels to cursed energy. It wouldn't be accurate to say they were one and the same, but they were definitely adjacent to each other. Despite the incredible potential these creatures had, she doubted any of them were curse users. You had to be extremely specialized for that. Lilith was fortunate enough to be born as the physical manifestation of curses. That is, if you ignored all the other downsides. Like being alive against your will.


The scrawny brat actually tried talking to me. What was this kid's deal, anyway? It's not like they had any reason to want her around. Oh well. They were Juno's responsibility, not hers.

After traumatizing Amalia more than they've already been, Lilith teetered off the roof and plunged onto one of the bug men swarming Zack. Her legs skewered straight into its spine, breaking her fall. It would have been a clean shot, were it not for the metal wings. They were swiftly crunched under her weight, and she proceeded to finish the job with a stomp to the skull. A runny, mucus-like substance exploded from its imploded head, adding a new flavor of grime to the water.

A flock of parademons circled the pair. Lilith's power and personality didn't lend themselves to work cooperatively, so she did her own thing while Zack did his. The horde hissed and snarled, buzzing in for a claw swipe, only to back off at the immediate counterattack from touching the fountain of acid. She tried swinging wildly at them, but like giant flies they were fast and annoying. Her short range and tanky nature weren't helping either. One of the minions fumbled with its rifle while its fingers burned off, taking aim and firing at the animate sludge giant. A wide cavity formed in Lilith's chest as viscous oil splattered from the impact.

"God damn, these fuckers hurt!" she growled. It wasn't enough to stop her, but she had to pause momentarily to regain her footing. "Come on, come get some!" she taunted, which the insectoids were responsive to. Two flew down, armed with spears, charging in for a pincer attack. It seemed to work, as the woman was convulsing in pain. As they were busy cackling in false victory, she snapped and sucker punched one, rapidly melting down its face. Then she pivoted, snapping the two spears lodged in her torso. She grappled the other parademon, lifting it on her shoulder and using its dissolving body as a makeshift shield, closing the distance until going for the next trash mob.

The commotion happening on the roof brought Lilith's attention away from battle. Not that she cared if Juno and Amalia got swallowed up and downed. No, her hunch was proven correct, the brat was far from ordinary. She watched the spirit manifest, its power barely holding back the winged beast. Not too impressive, but her curiosity was piqued. Not long after, the two fled to lower ground, just in time to see Lilith send bits of metal and green gore flying.

A church, eh? Just the kind of place I'm looking for. The brat was useful for something at least. Soon I'll be freeing the people from their mortal coil.

The tell-tale heart stopped beating. After Amalia's watery coughing fit, the murky warrior commented, "Sick."

The locust men surrounded the group on all sides. Zack chimed in, stepping up to be the leader in this dire situation, "Juno, Amalia, head to safety! We'll stay behind!"

Amalia would have protested, but there was precisely zero time to do so. Hurried along by the protective Juno, they ascended the tangle of devastated architecture.

Joining the forces of the buzzing parademons, unmade roots, tentacles, and root-tentacle combinations sprouted from the ground. Wait, I'm into this, so it's not really a problem. The tendrils latched on and coiled around Lilith, as she hardly put up any resistance. Even as they shriveled up, more length streamed out to lift her limbs into the air. "Oh no. I've been caught. How could this have happened," she asked with mock enthusiasm.

She allowed her body to be whipped and flayed for a minute or two before, somehow, effortlessly breaking free. "Ah, just what I needed~" the masochist purred.

Somewhere along the line, Lilith tore into an insectoid with her teeth, wrenching a chunk of neck meat like a feral dog. Her sense of taste briefly returned, so she could fully enjoy her snack. It's not bad, but it doesn't compare to humanoids. Kinda crunchy, slightly bitter.

Gradually, her combat style turned animalistic.

As the two fighters individually thinned down the enemies, they unknowingly converged on each other. Lilith cleaved through another parademon head, the sight of her knuckles startling Zack.

"Hey, watch out! Same side, remember?"

"I wouldn't be so sure, sword boy. You act so confident, but you must be compensating for something with a blade that big."

"As if." Brushing off the remark, he sliced a looming tentacle in twain before it reached Lilith.

Then came the tremors. The fallen island quaked, becoming one with the sea. The center… that's where those two are headed. This was her opportunity, and she seized it.

After telling Zack just how ungrateful she was, the sadist accidentally tripped over herself and bumped into the midsection of the swordsman. Granted, it was only a glancing blow, but the hurt he'd feel would more than make up for it.

"Aghn!! What the hell?!" If it wasn't clear already, they were not working for the same goal.

"Woops. Must have slipped from the multiple earthquakes. Anyways, dudebro, I gotta bounce."

"Tch… Whatever. I can handle this just fine."

"We'll see soon enough." And with that, she walked up a half-intact wall, leaving Zack to fend for himself.

 

[Demetri Malius]

By the time they had arrived at the scene, much of Nausicaa had already been engulfed in flame and smoke, with droves of bugmen and demonic creatures from the unmaking littering the streets. From above, they could see a few pockets of fighters trying to create zones of safety for evacuation and possibly counterattack.

That is, if Nausicaa was not already lost.

“Any closer and we risk being grappled by the tentacles. This is a few hundred feet higher than the height that Nausicaa was taken from.” Iris pulled herself out of the controls in the pilot’s chair, hopping down to see Morene and Cho, who had already gathered with their gear by the cargo bay.

“So how are we supposed to get down there?” Cho peeked over at the drop, feeling a bit light headed. He liked being a lot closer to the ground, but not all at once.

“Do you not have the ability to survive the impact? The android questioned.

“Iris, I don’t think that should be a basic assumption that you make of people.”

“Hey, you never know. I think we packed parachutes somewhere around here,” Iris pondered for a moment before reaching into a nearby wall compartment and pulling a handle to reveal an emergency parachute. Unfortunately, it looked like it hadn’t been serviced for a while.

“Are you sure this one even works?” Cho seemed hesitant at his only source of safety.

“Nope! But unless you want to stay on the ship or jump without it!” Iris piped up rather overenthusiastically.

“I guess it’s better than nothing.” Cho grimaced. Hopefully it was just covered in dust and not rotted out.

Morene set a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him with a grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll catch you if it doesn’t work out.” The knochten gave him another pat before taking a running start and leaping off the edge of the cargo bay doors.

“Oh,” Cho blinked before seeing Iris jump out right afterward. With a few timid steps he peeked down and watched them plunge down into the chaos. He gulped before taking a deep breath and strapping into his parachute. Clutching the necklace Masahir had given him on his chest before his departure, he steadied himself before simply putting his foot in front of him and tipping forward into the open air, feeling the wind rush past him as he fell toward the ruins of the Opealon neighborhood.

Screeches tore across the suburb as Morene struck down into the pavement revealing a crushed unmade creature beneath her feet. Twisting her foot, she rose once more and slashed at another flying bug creature, narrowly missing as it swerved out of the way. It growled and prepared to counterattack, only to be hit by Iris on her descent, landing on him with her combat suit and grating it against the street before riding its head into the curb.

She hopped off of its slumped corpse and skipped a step, bouncing on her heels. “That’s one for both of us, Cho is going to have to catch up!”

Fortunately, for the earthbender, speed was not of the essence today. The moldy parachute had managed to open properly and carry his weight, slowing his descent down to the battleground with the two ladies. An unmade caught wind of him and began to approach, diving towards him.

He fumbled with the straps for the parachute as it came closer, glancing at the multi-story drop below. Though the drop turned his stomach, the glint of fire in the creature's talons frightened him much more.

The cloth flung up into the creature as the straps came loose, letting Cho freefall to the floor. A whirr of blue shot by him before he hit the floor and set him on ground.

“Careful there, you said you weren’t impact-proof. Plus, high impact injuries aren't covered by organic warranty.” Iris smiled at him as she withdrew her handguns and aimed them at the flailing unmade above. The affirmative click of the targeting AI popped off before two clips of bullets traced through the air and embedded themselves in the entangled creature, boring into its flesh.

“Watch out!”

Cho raised an earthen wall between Iris and a larger demon that had snuck up behind her, barely managed to block a slash that even tore through the risen rock and sent dust flying beside it. The cyberpunk android whipped around and locked a few shots into the creature, this time not finding the same effect as before. Morene followed up, striking it with her blade at its knees and managing to sweep it off its feet, but not for very long.

The creature howled as a few more minions gathered around them, surrounding them with their backs against a large scrap heap of a building. Beside them, a crevice opened up from the destruction of the integrity of the island seemed just big enough for them to fit inside. Cho was the first to spot it.

“Guys, over here. We shouldn’t deal with this many of them ourselves!”

Morene gritted her teeth. As much as she was willing to tear these monsters apart, he was right. More had already been alerted to their presence and it wouldn’t take long for them to be overwhelmed.

Iris replied first, “Our survival chances are only decreasing the longer we wait, let’s go!”

The trio bolted for the opening, Iris keeping the pursuing at bay while Morene cleared a path, protecting Cho in the center as he blocked out intercepting bugmen with more asphalt walls. The ferocity of the creatures only escalated as they realized they were losing their prey. Morene stopped at the entrance as Cho hopped into the small chamber below, turning and looking back up to make sure Iris came down past him. She nimbly climbed over him and began shooting down the chamber, checking to make sure that the path did not end and leave them trapped. Morene was last to enter, jumping down as a clawed arm dug into her armor and threatened to pull her back out.

Cho acted quickly and pressed his fists into a triangle, breathing out sharply to pinch the limb in place. Morene spun against the talon and cleaved deep into the tissue, forcing it to pull back out of the hole and allow Cho to seal it behind her. Rampant scratching and hissing followed, and they could hear the unmade creature’s voice.

“You only push yourselves deeper into our throat so that we can swallow you whole.”

Shivers ran up their spines as Iris returned.

“Looks like these go through for quite a while, I can get through pretty quickly, but it might take you guys a while. Just don’t get lost at the forks, it opens up early on, and it’s easy to lose where you are at. Maybe we can find a hidden lair, it’s like a secret tunnel” The android seemed to hum excitedly.

“Well, not the best start, but we need to group with the others. Maybe we can find a way back out and head to that church we saw some people at, regroup so that we can handle a swarm if they show up.” Morene examined the deep gash in her armor that barely managed to prevent harm from the attack she had suffered. “I’d bet that this is some sort of nest, and given the creatures, we don’t want to be in here for long.”

 

[Ezrihel]

“Meet you in the tunnels- are you mad Lieutenant Colonel?! We don’t have a damn clue what’s in those gods-forsaken tunnels!” The blonde didn’t have the patience anymore to filter the disdain and contempt from his hissing tone. “You want me to just rely on your gut feeling here?? .... Lieutenant Colonel? ... Lieutenant Colonel?!!”

Ezrihel huffed an indignant growl as he stared at the obnoxiously silent walkie-talkie. Had he been any other man with any other pedigree to adhere to, he would have thrown the damn thing clear into orbit. He scowled as his stomach yanked itself into a knot.

Oh the gods had forsaken him. ’Always two steps behind them.’ So Ka’shanti’s corruption was a major factor in this corner of the cosmos, it had seemed. The very notion unsettled him and made the hairs of his neck prickle like static. How long had this all gone unchecked for the errant corruption to make it this far? How long had these people profaned the gods or ignored the warnings?

He shook his head. That ‘Lieutenant Colonel Mustang of Markov’ had mentioned a previous siege that they’d apparently only barely managed to stave off. Ugh. From one war to another, a constant losing battle that never seemed to finish. He was growing increasingly willing to run-through whoever it took to get an actual break from this shit.

The nobleman sighed as he worked to process everything that had happened. His hair was a mess, his outfit covered in remnant concrete dust and, oh, did he forget to mention that Isra was maimed? Yes, not only did some massive dragon paw make easy work of the neighboring buildings, but it had also managed to bang up P’thaeyl’s frame in the destruction as well.

He was in the middle of a battlefield, he was down his medic and now had to factor in additional complications and calculations regarding his assistant AI. Both factors presented a strategic and tactical disadvantage if he ever knew one. The aristocrat groaned as he drug his hand down his face. At least he wore the dark smudges of dirt like a vogue model for some chic artsy urban-camo body paint. At least his black threads would easily wash clean if they didn’t get torn to ribbons by the end of this all.

Ezrihel von Althaus couldn’t believe that he’d actually been asked to go diving into whatever crack in the ground had just opened and sucked down a poor woman with several other civilians. Who even knew what unthinkable, cold, wet, slimey, awful creatures were slithering and skulking around in the dark down there, waiting for stupid, overly-courageous heroic types to ‘trust their guts’ in charging in.

“So uh,” Arthur started as gently as he could. He may have been uneducated, but he was far from stupid. He could more than easily recognize when a snake dropped into a strike pose, and some folks was no different he’d found. “General Althaus- we goin’ in with that Mustang fella?”

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose and spun on his heel. Somehow the dusty cowboy looked less rough than the angel of vanity. And that infuriated a part of the noble, deep down inside. It burned with a bitter, tart spite towards nearly everything his eyes fell over.

He was capable of remaining composed enough to not stare down his allies with that budding spark of contempt, though. He knew better than that; that people didn’t feel exactly comfortable when he pushed down with the true intensity of his emotions, and that they tended to hate being the focus of that awful green glare of his.

Instead he suddenly perked up with a grin as he stepped next to Arthur and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, my dear Morgan. It does seem like that’s the case. Truly. It’s death and glory abound- Ruedlen tells me that you are a great shot by the way. We could certainly use more fire power... Down there. In the dark.”

“When’d she tell you that?” The outlaw asked with a chuckle. He’d barely seen ‘em talk in or after the car, let alone once their little group had reunited.

“Oh, just now. Didn’t you hear her, Morgan?” The blondie smiled coyly as he gingerly edged closer to the hole in the ground and brought the cowpoke in tow.

Arthur cocked a brow as he studied the fallen angel. Surely this fella was messin’ with him and trying to pull his leg. He considered for a moment what game the ephemeral androgyne was playing with him, and if he should humor it and play along. “You are a funny man, General Althaus.”

“Andromedan. Or Angel. Either is fine darling, but I assure you, I am no mortal nor am I a man by your probable sense of the word.”

It didn’t escape the honorable bandit that the grip around his shoulders had grown tighter and tighter with each step they inched closer to the chasm. He should have felt apprehension, but something about the ‘andromedan angel’ next to him was... oddly reassuring, he’d found.

“Morgan?”

“Yes, General?”

“Do you happen to have any experience in cave exploration?”

The cowboy tilted his head back as he tried to recollect if he did. He certainly felt like he’d delved into more than a few caves at some point, but he couldn’t exactly place when or where or why. The memories he had from ‘before’ blurred together into odd shapes, running together like ink and flickering apart like a letter left in the rain until there were only the impressions left over.

“Yeap, I reckon I do. S’like ridin’ a horse, you never quite forget.”



Nearby Ruedlen barked orders at the various scattered underlings that the poor blonde soldier had accidentally and unfortunately left unsupervised. Not that they were incompetent children by any means, oh, far from it. Many had direct or close experience with these so-called ‘unmade’ sort of monstrosities. They were battle hardened and more than capable of helping to hold off the encroaching reality-corruptors.

After all, it wasn’t their fault the floor kept splitting open and dragging civies and boots alike under via the route of nightmare tentacle at unexpected intervals. They were doing the best they could in the absolute absurdity of the situation, all things considered.

Their best just wasn’t going to cut it for very long without direction and organization.

Ezrihel had made sure to delegate his wishes to her, directly into her head and pestered her about getting the task done for him. Rue rolled her glassy white eyes. She thought herself charismatic enough, for a noblewoman death priest, but she paled in comparison to the nonsense she had seen Althaus pull in the past. The warrior understood that there was a logistical advantage or whatever to fighting in a group, she just also knew that she was very much a solo hunter in most situations.

Managing the well being of others was stressful, Ruedlen had figured that out quickly. It turns out managing creatures even more squishy than herself had caused an unexpected difficulty in that she consistently forgot that crucial fact. They’d paid for the over-estimation with an extra man sent to medical. She’d made sure she’d suffer no more debts after the first casualty, or the bratty noble would be down her throat for her lack of competency.

He’d tasked her with establishing a small perimeter around the entrance, and with getting Isra somewhere less dangerous. She’d accomplished it eagerly, and was now handing off her paramour to the relief unit that’d finally arrived.

Israphael’s handsome visage was covered in dust and ashes, all scratched up from the concrete and jagged rebar. The whites of his azure eyes were striking against the dirty smudges painting his face as he studied her, he was thinking of something, she could see it plain as day on his distant expression.

“What?” She ventured softly, kneeling beside his stretcher. Her dark brows furrowed as he snaked his fingers through the gaps in hers.

“Do me a favor, yeah Rue? Don’t die in that god-forsaken pit.” He squeezed her hand, speaking at just a whisper she could hear.

“Raph, you don’t have to-” Her frivolous objections didn’t matter as he pulled her down into a rawly sincere kiss. “-worry about that... Isra... What are you doing? What if Althaus sees us like this?”

“I don’t care.” He smirked wistfully before coughing purple ichor into the crook of his elbow, a wet noise rattling in his chest. “I thought that building was going to kill me, Rue. I thought my story in this life was over already- but it’s not. I’m alive.”

“If you keep hacking and wheezing like that you’re going to make me ask: ‘for how long?’~”

They both chuckled over her gallows humor.

“A few inches down and-” He groaned painfully as he adjusted himself on the gurney in a vain quest to find some scrap of comfort, “and it would have gone through one of my hearts, even a whole lung.”

“Then isn’t it a good thing we have two hearts then, love.” Ruedlen stood as a rescue worker lifted the stretcher off the ground with a push of a button.

“Well, I only have one.” She shot him an incredulous look before he continued, “my other one was stolen you see.”

A smirk now danced on both their lips. Their time together was quickly drawing to an end, the relief worker was loading him into an armored transport ship along with several other survivors. “Oh? Stolen? And who would dare to steal your blackened heart, dearest Isra?”

“You, darling Rue. You.”



The bay door pulled shut with a hydraulic hiss, leaving the priestess lonely on the makeshift platform as it took off. A dull pain ran through her chest and made her insides ache. Normally she liked a bit of pain, it kept her alive, kept her real and grounded and made her focus.


Today it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Today it hurt far more than it helped.




“Saerhaus, what are you doing, come on!” Ezrihel’s sharp voice cut through her inner fog and she snapped into a keen focus as she spun on her heels.


They were going underground.

 

[Arbiter]

The cowboy and the angel descended into the darkness carefully. Their path was full of more large ledges and impressive footholds than the Lieutenant Colonel’s — as well as a pretty strange sight.

“General,” Arthur Morgan whispered, “Lookit.”

Ezrihel followed the cowboy’s gaze. On a nearby ledge just a few feet below them, the same blonde woman from before lay in the fetal position, breathing heavily, sobbing lightly.

“Well, that’s certainly quite curious,” Althaus sighed, eyes darting around to try and find the tentacle that had been whipping her around.

Where is the thing? he thought. And why did it release her?

***

Iris Severity couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Come on, Iris, which way?” Cho asked. He and Morene stared at the fork in the tunnel, trying to pester their android friend to give them a direction forward, but she was too… interested by the anomaly before her.

“Iris,” Morene called, “what is it?”

“Who lit this fire?”

The words hit all of them like a brick as the other two let their gaze fall on the brightly burning torch situated on the wall between the tunnels. Engraved in the metallic structure holding it to the wall? An Omega symbol — and craftsmanship that, to the android’s eye, looked to be thousands of years old.

Iris turned back to her comrades. “We aren’t alone.”

Ezrihel and Arthur Morgan rolled a 2. They’ve stumbled upon a very shaken, probably mostly nonverbal Sergeant Swift. Feel free to decide what to do with her.

Iris Severity, Morene, and Cho rolled a three. They’ve discovered a clue that perhaps these tunnels aren’t just tunnels… but no more spoilers, sorry!

 

[Kopaka]

Kopaka twisted and tumbled through the air in the moments that followed the rumbling collapse. The Miru was a powerful tool, but it was easy to be swatted around like a dandelion seed by unexpected gales. The slashing, stomping chaos of Godzilla produced many such blasts, and Kopaka was pitched down onto the shattered building with a wretched crunch.


He had seen Mickey fall, and yet, new evil had announced itself. The parademon still screeched resentfully as it swooped clear of the rampaging kaiju's paws. It was obvious the towering beast was happy to play malefactor to Darkseid's forces...but such destructive power could not roam the island unchecked; there were still too many people in harm's way.


Kopaka picked himself out of the crumbling rubble and glanced between Godzilla's fury, and the silent, devouring void which had swallowed up Mickey Mouse. The Toa paused to consider the words of the Turaga in his vision; the riddle which had plagued him these last few days.


Where Toa walk, you take the light with you, and so the darkness is scattered away. The only way for a torchbearer to catch the shadows is to leave the light behind.


He had spent the past week chasing shadows, seeking to root out a conflict and vanquish an unseen, half-realized threat within the City of Hope. Today, the shadows came searching for their evil designs, and found Kopaka. In a moment of epiphany, the biomech strode towards the sinkhole and jumped into the darkness.


It was not his Duty to hunt out the wicked and shadowed places of the world. A torchbearer is not someone who seeks to confront, but gives the light of hope to others. Kopaka had come to Nausicaa to save people; not to fight parademons and giant monsters. Now, here was a person in need of rescue.


As he plunged into the depths, Kopaka breathed a name he did not recognize, but it felt familiar.


"Vakama. I will not leave the light behind."


The jet blasts of the Miru struck an azure brilliance onto the slick, ruined walls of the shopping center's sub structure. Mangled rebar and sodden concrete dangled from the walls like plastered moss. Kopaka hit the ground with a solid, whooshing splash. He summoned the Kanohi Akaku once again, and toggled the flashlight on the visor.


It appeared that the violent rending of the island had partially collapsed the basement parking of the mall. Various sleek cars lay scattered like childs' toys, slammed into eachother at all angles. Water had infiltrated everything, and broken plumbing brought an artificial rain which plopped rapidly into the swirling brine underfoot. Everything gleamed harshly with dampness from the biomech's headlight.


The dank complex rumbled again, and Kopaka braced himself against a concrete column. The island was becoming deeply unstable; he had to locate his small ally quickly, or the situation would become unmanageable. The Kanohi Akaku whirred and hummed as the bionicle activated its X-Ray vision and scanned the surrounding rubble.


There was no sign of the mouse. Kopaka scowled, and glanced down into the gloomy, flooding car park.


"Mickey Mouse." Kopaka called harshly. He maximized the volume of his vocoder, giving his voice an unpleasant, crackling quality not unlike a bullhorn.


"Mickey…!" Kopaka tried again, sloshing into the murk. His barking cry echoed hollowly off of the ruined walls. The ceiling was alive with refracted, rippling light as his high beam scanned over the wreckage. The only response was another violent, lurching rumble. Somethibg behind him gave way, and an avalanche of rent concrete began pelting down the shaft.


Kopaka reflexively drew his sword and summoned a wealth of elemental power. The water around his feet shuddered and crackled as an icy barricade slammed up

to plug the hole. The Toa kept his sword pointed at the collapsing entry way, pouring on more power until the cascade of tumbling boulders was firmly frozen in place.


It would hold for now.


As the upheaval ended, however, something wavered at the edge of his vision. A flicker of red in the otherwise grey and black abyss. Kopaka wheeled around to see the limp form of Mickey's body being dragged into a deeper, shadowed corner by the Unmaking's wicked, seething tendrils.


The Miru was called back, and Kopaka vaulted forwards with gleaming malice. His heavy feet skipped and slapped against the roofs of half-sunken cars as he careened towards the writhing abductor. Two quick cuts, and it was done. The writhing tendrils feel limp and shrank, shrieking, back into whatever crevice had housed them.


Always quick to act, the Toa scooped up the mouse's body, and scanned the car park for a dry spot. The Great Mask Akaku was called again, and Kopaka spotted a large pickup truck; flooded but, the bed was upright and dry.


Kopaka once again sloshed through the murky, rushing waters and deposited the Mouse's feeble, small body in the empty bed. He was breathing. Kopaka waited for a moment, then jostled Mickey's head.


"Mouse." he barked. Mickey startled back to wakefulness with a small yelp, and his eyes rolled around, trying to find his bearings.


"Oh. Kopaka, I…" Mickey started. He shook his head, and the Toa offered a cold hand to help him to his tiny feet.


"I remember falling and...you...came for me." Mickey said with dawning warmth. Kopaka immediately brushed the sentiment aside.


"I came to rescue people. I would prefer it was civilians." Kopaka droned. Mickey blinked, and chuckled in spite of everything.


"Right. Well. Let's get back to it! Say uh, where are we?" Mickey asked, trying to peer into the shadows. Kopaka activated his headlight again.


"A car park, third basement level. I had to seal off the way we came in. The water is flowing from a fissure through that wall." Kopaka said, gesturing along the perimeter.


"So that big crack in the ground is the only way out? Guess we should get going." Mickey sighed. The water was getting pretty deep, though, almost up to his neck. He meeped slightly as Kopaka picked him up by the scruff of his shirt and shouldered the mouse. Chilly!


"Darkseid's tendrils were dragging you this way before I came. I have some concerns about what awaits." Kopaka said softly as he marched through the surf.


"You and me both, pal."


"I believe Nausicaa was a trap. The Unmaking isn't behaving like Markov or the Abyss. I think Darkseid is luring challengers to their doom." Kopaka mused. He stepped over the threshold into the crevasse, and onto one of the slippery, jagged banks. Mickey hopped off his shoulder and peered into the slowly widening crag.


"So, we're walking into a trap? Is that a good-" Mickey looked up at Kopaka, but the biomech interrupted.


"It is no longer a trap. Primarily because it would only be a trap if we didn't know of it." Kopaka buzzed. Mickey raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his hips.


"And uh...secondarily?"


"I am here." Kopaka said with a measure of finality before marching off into the deeper passages. Mickey rolled his eyes but scampered along behind the chilly android. Always dramatic with this guy!

 

[Arbiter]

Kopaka and his new mouse companion ventured into the deep unknown beneath Nausicaa, ice sword and keyblade at the ready.

Perhaps ‘at the ready’ was a strong word — Mickey Mouse let the keyblade drag along behind him, scraping up dirt as he went.

Kopaka’s eyes flitted down to the small path his little friend had cut behind them.

“Mickey,” the Toa whirred.

“Yeah, pal?” the mouse king said, turning around. Kopaka simply pointed.

Underneath the tunnel’s topsoil was… a marble floor? And a dirty one, at that!

Mickey Mouse and Kopaka rolled a three and have uncovered a hint that this tunnel system is, perhaps, not quite what it seems.

 

[Dr. McNinja]

“So you guys are like,” Doc said, launching himself into a somersault as the octopus tentacle scraped the street below him, “mutants or something?”

“Or something,” Raphael said, the one with the red bandana. He stabbed down with his twin sai to pin down another tentacle, while his brother in blue charged forward to cut it down.

“Mutant ninja turtles,” Doc muttered to himself, “I feel like I should be getting a real kick out of this.”

Meanwhile, Dr. McNinja was doing his best to hack and slash as many times as he could into the tentacle that was attacking him. As he did so, another colossal tentacle snuck up to him from behind, wrapping around his torso. It started to crush him, but Michalengelo tackled the tentacle, giving Doc slight breathing room. Using this leeway, Dr. McNinja spun with his blade, cutting up the inside of the tentacle. Something in the distance shrieked in pain as the tentacle released him, though it didn’t actually do any damage to the damn thing.

“So you guys are new to the Crossroads, huh?” Doc quipped, after giving a grateful nod to the nunchuck-whirling turtle. He picked up a nearby bench, then chucked it at the tentacle about to ambush Donatello, “I’d say this isn’t normally what it’s like, but it sorta… is.”

The purple-wearing turtle shrugged and replied, “That bodes ill for this world’s denizens! How do you even get by day-to-day? What are the ramifications of-“

“Oh, you know,” Doc said, casually sticking his sword inside one of the puckers of another tentacle, “We make do.”

“Dr. McNinja!” the triceratops Dr. Leon cried out.

Doc cried out, “Coming!”

"Wait, he's a doctor... and a ninja?" Michelangelo said, batting away another tentacle with his nunchucks. "And he's Irish? How much coolness can one person have?"

The ninja doctor somersaulted forward to jump over another tentacle, but the kraken creature (which Doc hadn’t actually seen yet) seemed to have learnt its lesson. Another tentacle whipped Doc out of the air, pummeling him hard into the ground. Dr. McNinja grunted as he rolled out of the way as four more tentacles slammed into where he was four seconds ago.

“Still coming,” Dr. McNinja groaned, using his sword to deflect another tentacle. He kicked another one out of the way before leaping forward and landing next to Dr. Leon.

“What’s going on?” Dr. McNinja said.

“I think I figured out where the medical transports landed!” Dr. Leon said, “They’re less than one click away, due east.”

“Is that a dinosaur?” Michelangelo said, a little too loudly.

“You can’t just ask if someone’s a dinosaur, Mikey,” Leonardo sighed as he cut down another tentacle, “But… is he?”

“Then that’s where we’re headed,” Doc said, “They’ll need our help, and they’ll know where to go where even more people need help. Ugh, I seriously volunteered for this, huh?”

Dr. McNinja reached into his coat, but he was all out of frozen shamrocks. Instead, he found his cable attached to the grappling hook. He hurled it at another encroaching tentacle, wrapping around its suckers. Doc pulled hard, and Donatello chopped it in half with his quarterstaff.

“No idea how you did that with a blunt stick,” Doc said, “Anyway, we’re moving east, turtles! Let’s go!”

Leonardo forcibly grabbed the back of Raphael’s shell to keep him from continuing to brutalize another tentacle. Donatello and Michelangelo followed after their leader, spinning to keep other tentacles at bay. Behind them, the warehouse was completely covered in a mass of tentacles, which none of the warriors seemed to particularly notice until just now. The shoreline was being replaced by nearly infinite amounts of writhing limbs that lashed for anything to latch onto. Doc watched one of them absolutely pulverize a steel hotdog stand.

The tentacles seemed to notice that its opponents were suddenly nowhere to be found, and started searching the driveway into the warehouse with its massive tentacles, sweeping down streetlights like they were matchsticks. Dr. McNinja placed a hand on Mikey’s surprisingly pleasant-to-touch turtle shell to urge him forward, then started following the group east.

“Gross,” Raphael groaned as a spare sausage flicked at his face.

“Man, I kinda wanted to get some dogs, too,” Mikey replied.

“Okay, so we’re not really making any progress here,” Leo grunted, “You got a better plan, Doc?”

“I think we need to stop thinking of this as a save-the-world,” Doc mused, “And as a save-what’s-left.”

“Helps that that’s exactly what we were called for,” Dr. Leon said as he jogged, gripping his wounded chest.

“But we need to do something, Doc!” Mikey shouted, tumbling over some debris that was sent flying by an overhead bug demon. “We can’t just leave this town to die!”

“Actually, I concur with the doctor,” Donatello replied, “There’s a very low probability of there existing any fighters that can substantially fight back against such a force!”

“I’m not leaving this town like this,” Raph replied, his scowl wrinkling his eye mask.

Doc (who was inexplicably well ahead of the bickering turtles) peered at Dr. Leon as the group ran. “I feel like none of them actually heard what I was saying.”

Dr. Leon rolled his eyes. “Teenagers.”

“We are helping, boys,” McNinja shouted back at the turtles, “We just need to get the people out! We don’t even know where-“

Doc suddenly skidded to a stop, prompting Dr. Leon to stop as well. The turtles behind him stopped just as suddenly, causing Mikey to collide directly into Donatello and forcing both to the ground.

Dr. McNinja gulped hard as he looked at the sight ahead of him. “Where the baddies are coming from.”

The plaza in front of him was completely shattered. Not a single medical transport ship could be seen, but there was a burning canyon in the cobblestone street where something clearly crashed. At its destination was a gigantic chasm in the ground, which Doc could’ve sworn was reaching forward at the backs of his eyes. Though, that may have been the giant tentacle squirming deeper into the hole.

There was nobody nearby. Apparently, most people had seen this horrifying sight and instantly ran off. Several trails of blood could be seen going under what looked like a skyscraper of rubble.

In the distance, at the edge of the crumbling island, a titanic beast stepped down once with one of its feet, sending a shockwave rippling through the whole town. It roared with enough force to cause each of its seismically large spines to shiver, and a tidal wave of light spewed from its maw, ripping down a sizable hole in a swarm of what Doc assumed to be the bug demons.

“Why is everyone a lizard now?” Doc said, apparently out loud.

“We’re amphibians, actually,” Donatello mumbled, eyes plastered on the colossal dinosaur stomping around the beach.

“This whole island is falling apart,” Dr. Leon shivered, “Gods, we’re all going to die.”

“Not with that attitude,” Doc said.

His compatriots all stared at him, confused. Dr. McNinja noticed them watching, then started rethinking what he just said.

“Uh, I mean,” Doc swallowed, “Yes? With that attitude? You know what, who cares. I’m panicking. But this is clearly something important.”

Doc gestured with his sword at the burning symbol on the ground. It looked like someone branded the ground with the Greek symbol for Omega. Didn’t take his doctorate in Classics to recognize it, but no amount of textbook knowledge was going to help him realize what it actually meant. Well, presumably, it was the symbol of the Unmaking. The last letter of the alphabet, often noted in theology as an end. How fitting.

“Looks like someone was signing their good work,” Raphael snarled.

“Which means this tunnel takes us to the big guy,” Leonardo added.

Doc turned to Dr. Leon.

“Dr. Hans Leon, we’re going to have to split the party,” Doc said, “You need to follow that blood trail and help whoever is injured there.”

“Can I have at least one of the turtles?” Dr. Leon asked sheepishly, “I don’t feel comfortable wandering alone.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Donatello said, his eyepiece whirring as he examined the rubble on the ground, “Initial forensic analysis suggests that there was a whole group of people moving there. One of them was a stretcher. I think that’ll be the medical refugees.”

Doc nodded. “Makes sense, the other half of our shuttle landed here.”

Dr. Leon glanced at Dr. McNinja carefully.

“I know you’re a ninja,” the triceratops doctor said, “But you’re also a doctor. Maybe you don’t want to be going down there.”

Dr. McNinja sighed, his eyes somber. “Yeah, well, maybe I have to.”

Dr. Leon swallowed, then nodded. “Well, I hope you make it out. Thanks for saving me.”

The triceratops sprinted off, following the blood trail. The turtles evidently didn’t fully understand what that emotional conversation was about, but Dr. McNinja didn’t acknowledge it.

“Now, very recently, I was given the privilege of working with four teenage brothers with special abilities,” Dr. McNinja said as he strolled over to a shattered public bike rack. “But they were from a specific era, and I had to teach them a lot of things. But as weird as you guys look, I can tell from the way you guys talk that you’re from the 90’s or something. So, given what I remember about being a teenager in the 90’s, I have one question for you boys.”

Doc bent over, picking up an armful of skateboards that were discarded by the refugees. Several were shattered, but Doc had in his hands five intact skateboards. Dr. McNinja grinned.

“Which of you feel like skateboarding down this ominous tunnel into hell?”

Michelangelo's face split wide with a smile. "Cowabun-"

Raphael smacked his brother in the back of the head. "Knock it off, ya dolt."

 

[Ezrihel]

Prickles ran up the two andromedans’ spines as Ezrihel’s dry statement faded away into the unsettled silence. This place was downright unholy in every single sense of the word.

Althaus stared at the shivering woman in the dark. He could practically taste the panic shedding from her mind in chaotic waves of confusion. He glanced back at Ruedlen, who stood further back behind them next to P’theayl and shot him an uneased expression. They’d managed to round up a half-decent squad of Swift’s scattered men who volunteered to come and help find their leader... but this half-flooded cavern looked massive, likely non-securable with just them alone.

’P’thaeyl: Scan. Priority: Risk Assessment; all.’

Arthur instantly moved to try to help the downed troop, but the aristocrat stopped him with an outstretched hand.

Something brushed past the cowboy and his antique shotgun was up and primed to fire in a heartbeat, but his eyes found nothing in the darkness. This time, the ‘Something’ gently nudged up against his everything?

’Morgan?’ Ez’s voice rang clearly, as if they were right beside the man.

“Huh?” Came Arthur’s rasped response, and it earned a harsh shush that sounded from everywhere, all around his head.

’Be quiet. We don’t know what’s-’ The blondie locked up, visibly going as rigid as a statue. Arthur thought they could damn well be made of porcelain looking like that.

“How’re you doin’ that? I can hear you talkin’ to me but your mouth ain’t movin’.” He blinked at the man, confounded as to how he was pulling off this new stunt.

The noble-them, for once, failed to answer at all.

He was too busy staring into the empty sockets of a skull wreathed in eerie blazing blue flames that suddenly dominated his mind’s theatre. In its forsaken eyes he saw every single wrong he’d ever recounted, every woe and pain and misery and every damn guilty thought he’d breathed quietly into the cold pillows at night when he was tired and alone.

In front of him he saw a battlefield coated in hot, slick purple blood and piled full with mountains and hills of corpses, strangled man and andromedan alike sputtered and gasped wretched dying breaths and in the middle?:

His Lily. Crucified, burning on the pyre while she screamed. It sent needles into his bones, every inch of his body lit up and he audibly gasped. A wolfish set of teeth snapped shut and-

“You some kinda… whatcha’macallit….. ‘ventriloquist’ in your spare time, pardner?” Arthur whispered. This Andromedan was suddenly acting pretty damn strange for a time like this. He’d certainly seen all sorts of tricks and wiles back on that comet, but no one had pulled this one out on him. The dusty man’s azure eyes flicked between the three companion’s he’d taken to travelling with.

Just as soon as the nightmare had begun, the feeling passed. Liliel’s agonized screams faded into the shrieking cries of eagles and hawks, and he could breathe again. Somewhere, in the distance of the cowboy’s misty, haunted mindscape, a bittersweet harmonica wheezed its somber melody. P’thaeyl was trying repeatedly to alert him of its scan results. Was it... safe now, to speak? Both of his hearts thudded against the inside of his chest. Tentatively he tried once more to bridge the telepathic gap.

’... I am a telepath, Morgan. I can speak inside of your head... I mean no harm and will not encroach on inner privacy unless absolutely imperative for our survival.’

He was still greatly troubled, but it was pointless to think about it now, in the moment. There were more important matters to attend to than his own emotional well-being or comfort. Over and over life had enforced to him that his comfort meant very little in the grand scheme of things, today would be no different.

“Ah, alright then I s’pose.”

He knew he’d spend days dwelling over it later. He knew he’d have nightmares from today, if he didn’t sink into the ocean first and drown.

’You know you can just think what you want me to hear and I’ll pick up on it, right.’

“Well forgive me if I ain’t familiar with this ventriloquism nonsense you call ‘telepathy’.”

Arthur felt a flicker of something from the General, was it amusement? He didn’t try to pretend to understand the strange inner machinations of the angelic andromedan. All he knew was that this whole “telepathy” thing made him feel like he was standing alone in the meadow of an empty, silent world, made him feel how small and lonely he was, not that the fact bothered him too much. He’d always taken things in stride, been good for rolling with the punches an unfair, wild world could throw.

’It’s dangerous here. Whatever dragged her down here went somewhere. Can feel more of those daemons crawling on the walls. Shuffling vestiges of corrupted civilians. Nightmarish. P’thaeyl confirmed suspicions.’ The need and urge for silence was easily and plainly expressed over their mental bond.

The outlaw nodded, he still weren’t too sure about how to go about this whole 'mind-speakin’' thing they was trying to do yet, but he reckoned he’d manage the new experience somehow. He always did.

The blonde soldier before them popped back into the front of the cowpoke’s mind and his forming question about her was instantly understood before he could even finish the thought.

’Yes. May still be useful, as well.’

Again, Ez carefully reached out with his mind. He’d be lying to say that some part of him hadn’t been deeply shaken by his experience greeting Morgan’s mind. He shivered, unsure and uncaring to decide between the possible exact causes. This entire place was just bad after worst, and there had to be some reason the shuffling monstrosities of the void left her be on the ledge.

He hesitated for a brief moment.

It felt like a trap. He expected to move and find himself and his ‘pardners’ in the midst of a rancid swarm, buried until they drowned under the scrambling insects.

Touching Sergeant Swift’s mind was like sticking his hand deep down into a thick, mucus-y sludge. Disgusting. Reviling. Ezrihel knew that Arthur wanted to save this woman but the war general honestly wasn’t sure if there would be much left of her to save. He certainly didn’t want to risk his own life and limbs for what’d amount to little more than a quivering husk on a gods-forsaken planet he hated, anyway.

The noble grimaced and pushed his mind forward. There was no point in sitting around scared, being down in this hole was akin to already having a foot in the grave as far as he was concerned. He might as well figure out just what was happening here-

’He’s coming for us- he’s coming- he’s coming for us-’ we can’t escape him- he’s coming oh god he’s- She was a torrent of gibbering, panicked thoughts, each rushing every which way until they tumbled over top of each other in a chaotic fumbling buzz. An uneasy indigo-purple tainted her mind, lurking in the dark shadows and recesses of her consciousness it clung to her like a foul, creeping miasma.

’We’re never ever ever getting out of here- he knows- he knows- the alpha and omega- he knows- nowhere is safe- nowhere safe... nowhere...’ Delicately Ezrihel quelled her thoughts, straightening their coiled tangles out in a fierce but gentle effort to calm her as Arthur approached her prone form.

Seeing such a fine lady like her all battered and a mess on the floor didn’t sit very well with the outlaw. These unmade were a mighty ugly bunch attacking all these innocent people... Even if the Hoper government was harsh to outsiders. He pulled his pistol and held it at the ready, jus’ in case one of them nasty fellers came jolting at him in the dark.

“Holy-” he cut himself short as he pushed her hair back from her face. She was torn up, bruised like a fresh peach and covered with streaks of blood and dirt. Her skin was already flowering into mottled patches of black, blue, purple and off yellow-green as the bruising had set in. The masculine morrigan grimaced, deep weathered lines etched in the corners of his mouth as he mumbled rhetoric under his breath, “what are you doin’ down here alone...”

’Morgan!’ A flicker of danger pressed into the cowboy’s mind from the angel and he instinctively reeled his attention to his right as the- probable- massive tentacle that drug the woman down here erupted from the floor just a few feet away.

“What in the name of-” The noble bandit flinched as a shower of rocks pelted down on them. His volcanic pistol was not going to cut it here, no way no how. Part of him wondered why he’d even bothered slinging that shotgun on his back in this situation. Part of him had hoped he wouldn’t have needed to use his very interesting gun again just yet as he dove to the ground and pressed himself flat, narrowly avoiding the wild swing of the purple tentacle aiming to splat him against the wall.

Ezrihel’s sharp emerald eyes scanned over the slimey appendage as he jumped back, studying just how it looked and moved. Boulders and debris from its bombastic entrance had crumbled back down to pile around the base and limited the thing’s movement right at the bottom. It wasn’t much but he was quickly willing to work with just about any advantage as the dozen daemons crawling along the wall swiveled their ominous red optics to investigate the commotion.

’Disadvantage: Massive reach, allies. Advantage: Immobile at base, swings wild. Priority: Create and maintain opening.’ His directions rang clear to his allies.

With the efficiency of a machine Saerhaus and P’thaeyl swept forward to take advantage of the opening. Morgan scrambled to his feet and took aim with his Winchester as Ezrihel slid past him to snatch the still-shell-shocked Swift up from the floor bridal style. She was little more than a liability, another civilian to save during the apocalypse.

Suddenly the room lit up in a pale ghostly azure light as a loud gunshot reverberated through the cavern. Variant creatures shrieked in the dark, trying in vain desperation to put out the all encompassing blue fire that clung to their wicked bodies before they crumbled into ash and ember.

Holy, purifying fire.

Well. The General hadn’t factored that in, but it pleased him greatly none-the-less. “I knew you were packing heat Morgan, but I didn’t realize it was literal!” The blonde called out, tone a mix between sharp concentration and an exasperated excitement as he tucked Swift into a nook of solid cover and rushed back to their frontline. Rose’s internal machinery whirred to life, glinting and purring for blood as he drew the blade from her place on his hip.

Arthur chuckled. His focused, wolfish grin caught in the haunting light and he nearly found himself hollerin' in the rush of combat. “Me neither General- not ‘til ‘bout an hour ago!”

 

[Arbiter]

Dr. McNinja and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles slid down the crater to the large, omega-shaped opening. A little under an hour before, the forcefield seemed to be impenetrable, but now it seemed to be... flickering?

"I posit with enough forward force, we can break through whatever this weird blue energy field is," Dr. McNinja theorized.

"Do you... actually know that?" Raphael quirked what would've been his eyebrow at the Irish ninja doctor.

"Not in so many words," Doc replied.

"Let's try it!" Mikey yelled, pumping his fist into the air and snatching one of the skateboards from McNinja. He plopped it down on the ground and kicked off, sailing forward ahead of the rest of his comrades.

"We should probably follow quickly," Leonardo pointed, grabbing another one.

"Wait, I - " McNinja protested, but Donatello, too, grabbed a skateboard and raced off after his two brothers.

Raphael sighed next to the doctor. "Well," he said simply, holding out a hand. McNinja looked over at the turtle.

"I haven't skated the boards in a long while, Raph," Doc admitted.

Raph blinked. "You'll be fine. It's like riding a bike."

Then, the red-bandana sporting turtle grabbed a board out of McNinja's hand and was off to the races as well. Doc watched as the four teenage mutant ninja turtles wheelied and ollied into the omega hole, disappearing into the darkness ahead never to be seen again... until he entered in a few seconds.

"I haven't ridden a bike in a long while, either," he muttered to no one in particular. But despite his insecurities, he was a ninja doctor, goddammit, and he would not let these teenagers make a fool out of him. He kicked off on the last skateboard, careening forward down the crater and towards the omega hole --

POP!

A wheel snapped off his board, flying into the air, and the Doc went flying. He sailed forward into the opening of the tunnel, landing on his head and starting a somersault downward he did not consent to. He rolled forward and forward, down the tunnel, until finally he skidded to a stop on some flat ground. He shook his head, brushing himself off and stood up, seeing the four turtles standing just ahead of him, stopped in their tracks. "What's the hold up, fellow kids?" he asked, trying his best to hide the fact that he'd just hella wiped out.

The turtles split in the middle, and Leonardo jerked a thumb towards the group of purple-robed folks standing just on the opposite side of this particularly roomy tunnel. The cultists seemed a bit... well, they seemed like children, caught doing something horribly wrong.

"Alfred," the girl in the middle said, elbowing a man to her left, "did you not seal the forcefield back?"

"I thought I did, Linda," Alfred replied sheepishly.

"Idiot," Linda scoffed. She eyed the five ninjas. "Kill them, I guess."

Dr. McNinja, Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Mikey rolled a one. They have stumbled upon a quintet of cultists that are very clearly up to no good and... well, now, they want to kill you.

 

[Mickey Mouse]

“This place is spooky, right, Koppy?”

“I do not have a concept for ‘spooky,’” Kopaka droned, and that was that. Mickey looked up at his companion curiously. He and Kopaka had been through a lot together for two people that had… never seriously interacted. Heck, he’d killed the Toa once upon a time, back in the Abyss, and the mouse king had a sinking feeling in his stomach they’d been through more together. More not-so-nice business. But the memories were… hazy.

Either way, a new leaf was turning over every second they were together on this tortured island. After all, Kopaka had come to rescue him, which was just a super cool thing to do. It seemed utterly unlike the picture he had of the Bionicle from before this experience, and, well… Mick was ready to believe, finally, that people could be different than his first impressions of them.

He’d lived for so long with such a clear idea of what good and evil were — but for what? And why?

Just to be… wrong, over and over again?

Why couldn’t Kopaka be one of the good guys, huh?

“Koppy—I’m a little tired,” Mickey sighed, placing his hands on his hips. He didn’t know how long they’d been walking through these tunnels, but between that and falling through the rubble earlier, he needed just a couple of minutes. “Can we rest? Just for a sec?”

Kopaka, who had taken the lead in their journey as Mickey’s pace had slowed, stopped and turned back over his shoulder to look at the mouse. “Your endurance is already drained?” he asked, not unkindly. “Was your journey here tiring?”

Considering my new friend got frozen in that goop just a little while before, kinda, Mickey thought, but then pushed that thought away. He didn’t want to think about Samus, or any of that other stuff—Leia had entrusted him to represent the ARC down here on Nausicaa, and he would make good on that goal. Leia… she was definitely one of the good ones. She actually believed in the Unmaking, which was more than Mickey could say for most of the authority figures he encountered.

He hated to say this — really hated it — but maybe what was happening here would finally make people wake the heck up. Darkseid was coming, whether they liked it or not, and they needed more people trying to stop him. They needed more heroes.

…heroes like him and Kopaka…

Foolish.

A huge, loud squealing crashed into the mouse king’s ears, and he stumbled and fell to the ground. “Holy shiitake mushrooms,” he squeaked.

“Mouse?” Kopaka asked, suddenly alert.

Mickey’s fingers dug into the dirt as the squealing sound continued to vibrate in his big ears. The more dirt he pulled up, the more he could see the marble floors below, but he could hardly focus on that as that… voice rang out, loud and deep.

I had hoped you’d come, it said. You were a fool to challenge this.

Mickey blinked and saw flashes of the castle on Nos’talgia — his first encounter with a parademon — before blinking himself back to reality again. He fell to the ground and rolled over onto his back as the squealing finally began to subside, and the voice’s low cackling dissipated into nothingness.

He panted heavily, then suddenly felt Kopaka’s icy hand lay across his small chest. “Breathe steady, mouse,” he stated simply. “Panic helps no one.”

Slowly, the mouse king nodded, and sat up. “You’re right,” he exhaled, “you’re right, Koppy.”

Kopaka simply stared for a few seconds before: “That is not my name, yet you keep calling me by it.”

“Yeah, pal,” Mickey giggled. “It’s a nickname! Ever heard of ‘em?”

Kopaka stared more. “Who is Nick?”

Mickey quirked a brow, then burst into a fit of laughter. He couldn’t help but giggle at the robot’s… well, decided robot-ness. Big dude knew all about Kanohi-what’s-his-mess but hadn’t ever heard of nicknames before? This had to be somethin’ out of a movie.

“No, no,” the keyblade master explained, “it’s like… a short name, or a fun name. You give it to your friends!”

Kopaka stood up. “We are not friends.”

“Well,” Mickey shrugged, “we just might be by the end of this! Or we could be.”

The Toa of Ice turned to face the tunnel ahead again. He seemed… pensive, and being honest, Mickey was a tad bit worried. The mouse king stood up and took a few steps toward his partner-in-spelunkin’.

“You okay, fella?” the little guy asked.

“I have…” Kopaka started, slowly. “One friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey replied.

“He is here,” the Toa continued. “On this planet. I had been looking. Waiting. And then… this island was attacked.”

Mickey blinked a little bit, feeling a tug on his heart. Not this robot fella making him feel all the feelings!

Kopaka glanced down at his free hand, the one not holding his ice sword, as he felt four gloves fingers weave with his own.

“How’s about a second one?” Mickey Mouse smiled.

The mask over the Toa’s face hid his true feelings, but Mickey could feel… something resonating through both of them in the seconds before Kopaka removed his hand from the mouse king’s. The ice robot took a step back, then turned back to the tunnel and started forward. “We should continue,” he said without looking back at the mouse.

Mickey watched the ‘bot walk for a moment before grinning big. “Yeah,” he agreed, “and hey! Maybe your friend is down here somewhere now!”

“Perhaps,” Kopaka said quietly.

Mickey watched the Toa take the lead, then started to bound off after him. Yeah, he thought, this guy ain’t so bad.

 

[Demetri Malius]

Artur’s eyes narrowed as he watched the news feed through the display screens that connected his visuals to the galactic internet. With a grin, he shut off the feed and began setting a planned route of travel to the sinking city of Nausicaa.

“You must be really liking your new persona, Iris. You never were one to play the good side.” The android hummed to himself as he activated his thrusters and lifted off into the sky, catching only a few people by surprise as they went about their day.

The company had no issues interfering with Opealon politics and land, as they were easily able to slip through the blind eyes of their people, who cared only for technology while they scorned the magic users of other worlds. It made their lives easier knowing what resistance to expect. As Artur sped through the City of Hope, he mulled over the new factor that managed to throw all of that data out the window.

The Unmaking.

Sure, there was the Siege of Markov that had barely been fought off, and the company had managed to spare some resources in aid, but overall, they felt no need to save any of the worlds. Their needs were their own, and if something befell the crossroads, they would simply adapt.

Unfortunately, this was not a time that he could simply ignore the chaotic force. Iris would no doubt be putting her skills to work trying to fight that force, for some trivial reason or fallacy of goodwill that she had put upon herself. Whatever it was, he would make sure to end that reason and bring her home.

He ceased his thoughts as he arrived above the suburb, focusing on sensing where he managed to see Iris crash down with the two others she had arrived with. He hadn’t attracted any attention yet, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The android focused on keeping itself scarce as he floated quietly down to the area that he recognized from the live orbital feed, noticing a large group of bugmen clawing at one of the cracks in the floor. A single Parademon seemed to lead the group, clearly frustrated by their lack of ability to unbury the collapsed tunnel. Their forces were meant to come out and tear into armor and flesh, not dig. They must have been at it for a while, as it finally seemed to let up.

Enough. There will be others, and those three will find themselves at their end like the rest.

It shrieked at the other bugmen, who all followed as they turned their attention to the other cries in the city, one of those most likely being the giant reptilian that had decided to crash the city now that it had breached its waters.

Artur waited until everything was out of sight and earshot, before reappearing before the collapsed tunnel. They had already managed to make it quite far back into the entrance, but without any proper way to dig, all they had created was a large crater of dirt. Artur spread his arms out and focused as another set of them grew out of his torso. They seemed to fit his elongated form quite nicely. These new limbs shaped themselves into a set of drills, and began to get to work on powering through the earth. It wouldn’t take long for him to be on their trail, and given the unmakings abandonment on their construction project here, they would be distracted with other things while he opened the way into the tunnels.

It had been a long time since he had to go through this much trouble for a repossession. Then again, Iris was always one to stir up this type of trouble. He wondered if her newfound allies would be just as much effort and hoped he would not be disappointed. He did enjoy the hunt, after all, but in the end his job was to bring them back.

ARTUR has arrived on scene to retrieve IRIS. He will only be seeking her out, but will be getting rid of anyone in the way. Hopefully, the unmaking doesn't pull him away from his mark.

 

[The Living]

The time had come. It hadn’t taken long for the slime to find its way back to Opealon after feeling the call. It seemed to just know to congregate with everyone else vile on the planet, to attack one single spot.

Nausicaa.

It had not paid too much attention to the movement of the hive up to the siege. A few parademons managed to shriek at the slime in simple directions and snort when it only replied with a gurgle. They knew that it was a part of them, and perhaps it may not listen, but it would rally to their cause nonetheless.

It currently slunk through one of the many tunnels that led further into the depths, and it would help hold the line there against the heroes that dared to push them back down. Not that it mattered too much in the grand scheme of things for the slime, as it had not the sentience to ponder its hive.

Yet.

For now, as it reached one of the core forks in the tunnels, it began to spread itself wide, stretching itself thin along the walls and ceiling to cover most of the open area. It’s bony jaw spread its teeth along the floor, pretending to be simple stalagmite and stalactites that had naturally formed in the tunnel.

It had been too long since it had fed, since it had grown and developed. Stagnation was death for the creature, and it had only fasted in order to arrive on time to the siege. Starved as it was, it only made the slime more anxious to feed and most likely more aggressive in combat.

Now it only needed for its prey to approach.