The Nausicaa Incident -- Act Four
Ash and dust blanketed Aragorn’s chamber. As the smoke from the fused angel cowboy’s attack began to clear, it became apparent that no unmade creature -- and a few spares -- stood a chance at surviving the hunt for the wicked. Between the arrival of Arthrihel and the literal Arbiter slicing through the extras, it took only a matter of minutes before every single parademon that dared trespass on this holy ground was vanquished.
The Spirit of Vengeance, eh?
Davy Jones watched with great interest as Arthirel made short work of the parademons buzzing through the chamber. The flames from the Fallen Angel Feather writhed and twisted around the bug-like people who served the will of Darkseid, creatures Jones remembered from… before. He scoffed as he knelt beside a half-disintegrated, half-charred parademon corpse; did the ‘Fallen Arbiter’ not have the creative spirit to recruit new thralls? Was he content to keep recycling the same servants over and over again, despite the fact that last time they’d failed miserably to keep the forces of good at bay?
So perhaps there was a chance, then. Jones remembered watching idly as Cid and Ember Ramsay fell victim to the power that Darkseid had amassed in his absence -- a depressing sight, to be sure, and one that had brought to the surface some anxieties. Had Darkseid grown so powerful that he could now overtake them… or had they grown so weak that there was no way to fight back?
Either way -- these ‘warriors,’ for all their impudence, had potential. Not now, of course; even the considerable power a gestalt being like Arthrihel carried couldn’t possibly match up to the sheer power of an Arbiter, let alone Darkseid.
Especially if he really was more powerful than before. They would need to get their shit together much more than they had now if they wanted a chance at saving the Crossroads from the effect of the unmaking. He sighed as the thought crossed his mind, and he realized just how…
Just how
tired he’d become.
He stood, and observed as all of the measly creatures began to take in their surroundings. They seemed stunned in the aftermath of the cowboy angel’s onslaught, and to be honest -- Davy couldn’t blame them. While the power of the feather might not have meant much to someone like him, essentially a god, he could only imagine how overwhelming it must feel to the mortals.
The short-circuiting android buzzed a bit on the ground. So she’d been hit with the blast, then? Jones wasn’t quite sure still how it all worked -- a rest for the wicked, apparently -- but the power… it had been quite the spectacle.
ARTUR whirred closer to Iris Severity’s limp, unconscious form, but the earthbender and knight errant were quick to form a bulwark against him. Whatever the android had done, Morene and Cho were not going to be so quick to abandon her to abduction and whatever else these people had in store for her.
“Release her to me,” ARTUR commanded, “
now.”
“Not a chance,” Cho shook his head defiantly. He swished an arm through the air and a small wall of marble erected, shielding Iris from view.
“I will not ask again,” the hunter growled. He took a step forward, his gargantuan seven-and-a-half feet towering over Cho and the knight errant. Morene’s gaze traveled up their enemy’s body, and she scoffed.
“You heard him,” she almost smirked. “No.”
A sharp
shwing echoed throughout the chamber as Galvanus swung upwards at ARTUR. The hunter-bot leaned back, dodging the strike, and leapt to a distance before shooting a static strike in Morene’s direction. The knight errant scowled as the dart approached, preparing to bat it away when another small hedge of marble flooring erupted from the ground and took the hit instead. The dark-haired woman glanced at Cho, who winked at her, before turning her attention back to their enemy.
ARTUR leapt forward, curling his fingers into an imposing fist. He hurled himself over the barrier that Cho had erected and swung a punch straight into Morene’s gut,
clang-ing against her armor and sending her sailing backwards. She spun in the air as she flew, crashing into the base of Aragorn’s statue.
“
Morene!” Cho shouted, starting to move to the woman before he remembered that he was the only thing standing between ARTUR and Iris. He glanced from Morene to the hunter, mind racing as he tried to formulate a plan for what to do next.
For her part, Morene Fellon was back on her feet in a flash, frantically searching for Galvanus. Her sword, it seemed, had also flown to a corner of the chamber upon ARTUR’s impact. So as their foe approached Cho -- prepared, it seemed, to launch another onslaught upon her ally -- the knight errant did the only thing she knew to do.
She retrieved another weapon.
Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of Narsil and she charged forward, lifting the broken sword into the air and preparing to thrust it downwards into ARTUR’s spine. Her feet carried her most of the way before, suddenly, she felt her entire body get jerked off the ground.
“
Woah!” she yelped, flying into the air and freezing in place several feet above the action. Her gaze flew over to the other inhabitants of the room and she saw Davy Jones’ hand squeezing the air in front of him, a deep scowl cutting through his tentacled beard.
“Put. That. Down,” he nearly yelled, and Morene didn’t hesitate. She released the hilt of Narsil, and within seconds, she had been released, falling to the floor with a resounding thump.
All three fighters froze as Captain Jones stalked over towards the knight errant. “Ye are not worthy to hold Aragorn’s sword,” he shook his head, kneeling next to a Morene that had suddenly gone pale with fear. He leaned down and sniffed her, then quickly pushed himself back to his feet and shouted again, addressing everyone and no one all at once. “The original ninth Arbiter,” he continued, tears welling in his eyes as he turned his gaze to the statue, “and my friend.”
“Hm,” Arthrihel mused from atop Radish. The angel cowboy had trotted over to check on Ruedlen and Sergeant Swift whilst the conflict surrounding the android had proceeded, but his attention had been called back by Davy’s outburst.
The original ninth Arbiter, he thought, trying his best to let the revelation sink in. One part of the gestalt’s mind knew who the new one was -- the man himself behind Dante’s Abyss, Mr. Jak. With these revelations, though, came new mysteries, and the fallen angel wasn’t so sure that Captain Jones was in the mood to be forthcoming with any more answers.
Then, the ground beneath them rumbled a bit. Sergeant Swift reached out and grabbed on to Ruedlen’s arm, holding on for dear life, before repeating her chat once more.
“
He’s coming,” she said, prompting Jones’ ire.
“Quit yer blabberin’,” the pirate Arbiter called across the chamber before another rumble shook his boots beneath his feet. He looked down at the floor, then back up at the gathered crew of mortals before finally, for the first time since any of them had met him, allowing a smile to sneak onto his face.
“So it’s time, then.”
***
“Mustang,” Hawkeye coughed, clambering up from behind the bone wall that had been shielding her from the cultists’ continued assaults, “...was that you?”
Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang gazed with some sense of awe at the scene that had just played out before him. In one moment, he and a group of ninja turtles had been fighting valiantly against a crew of too many cultists to count -- flames dancing one way, sais and katanas and poison gas the other -- and then suddenly, the tide had dramatically shifted. He looked out over a sea of burnt, charred bodies, watching as the last licks of blue flame took the lives of the last surviving thralls of Darkseid. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon but somehow -- everyone in here he’d counted an enemy was dead.
He shook his head. “Not me, lieutenant,” he confirmed, kneeling next to one of the bodies. As the last embers of blue fire whipped this way and that, he wondered, idly, if perhaps Azula were here -- certainly not the first person he wanted to see, but if she wanted to be an ally against the forces of Darkseid, he wasn’t really in a position to refuse her help.
He glanced around at the gathered forces. The ninja turtles seemed capable enough, and the ninja doctor, wherever he’d gotten off to, certainly had his moments; who else had delved into these tunnels to find out what Darkseid’s plan truly was? And had anyone else had more luck finding things out than they had?
The chamber they stood in now should’ve seemed evidence enough that all was not as it seemed, right? It seemed like some sort of ritual room, used for ceremonies and the like, and certainly, that’s what the cultists had planned on using it for. In Mustang’s experience, though, as much as they wanted to be on the same page with their Dark Lord, denizens of the Crossroads who were not unmade had trouble discerning the Fallen Arbiter’s true designs. All that to say that he’d never met a single cultist that wouldn’t get sliced to bits by a parademon any slower than he himself would. So whatever ritual the blue-robed folk had been planning to complete with the girl and the fae, well… perhaps that wasn’t why they’d all been brought down here, after all.
But why, then? Certainly someone had wanted them to come here. Everything about this whole damn situation spelled
trap.
Ker-thunk. Mustang spun around, lifting his hand up and preparing to unleash a blast of alchemical fire. The turtles, too, readied their weapons, all turning their gaze onto the half-destroyed throne at the head of the room. It was moving, shifting from its spot to reveal a staircase beneath it… and emerging from the staircase, an angelic cowboy wreathed in blue flame.
Mustang’s brow furrowed. Not Azula, then… but who was this?
As Radish carried Arthrihel into the central antechamber, his companions popped into view one by one. Cho earthbent Iris’ unconscious body up into view, followed by Morene, who held ARTUR at bay. The white-haired hunter scoffed, for the moment muzzled by the presence of Davy Jones, next up the stairs. Finally, holding up the rear, Ruedlen helped a still-quite-shaken Sergeant Swift limp into view, and almost immediately, Roy Mustang and Hawkeye looked, alarmed, at each other before the lieutenant colonel broke into a sprint.
“Sergeant!” he shouted, brushing past everyone else until he was next to the blonde woman. Ruedlen carefully transferred her weight to Mustang, who led her away from the stairs as she continued to whisper her words of warning in her comrade’s ear.
“
He’s coming… he’s coming… he’s coming…”
“I thought I told her to quit her blabberin’, General,” Jones growled, crossing his arms and moving towards the center of the room. Mustang looked up.
“General?” he asked, fixating his gaze on Arthrihel. “General Althaus?”
“You must be Mustang, then, eh, pardner?” the angel cowboy nodded. “You’re mighty more diminutive than I imagined, feller.”
“You… sound different,” Mustang noted.
The lieutenant colonel suddenly felt a pang of pain in his skull, and fell to his knees, bringing Sergeant Swift with him. It took mere moments before Arthrihel had dismounted Radish and closed the distance between them. The cowboy knelt down, placing a hand on Mustang’s shoulder and shooting him a look that, despite the fact that his face was mostly a blue-flamed skull, the dark-haired man took to mean ‘are you okay?’ -- to which he could only bite his lip and sigh despondently in response.
Ah, the voice of Arthrihel rung out in his head,
a trap. I agree, pardner.
What? Mustang thought,
what’s going on --
You’ll get used to it, Arthrihel smirked, before turning back to the rest of the room and standing up. He crossed towards Davy Jones.
“So, fishy feller,” he asked, not un-accusingly, “why’d ya bring us here, then?”
Captain Jones’ tentacled face whipped back toward Arthrihel, looking almost… offended. “Me? Bring ye here?” he chuckled before finally doubling over completely with laughter. “I would never bring ye here. This place is scared to me, and none of ya -- ” he stopped to point at everyone in his vicinity, “ -- deserve to walk on this hallowed ground.”
“Then what is going on?” a new voice echoed throughout the chamber. Faces turned to see an ice robot barrelling in, sword raised, ready for whatever answer was going to come out of Captain Davy Jones’ mouth -- and whatever fight may ensue because of those words. Behind the Toa of Ice, a mouse, an android, and a Gal’skap cultist frantically chased after him, trying their best to resume the low profile they had thus far been enjoying.
“
Koppy!” Mickey squeaked, “we were droppin’ eaves, remember?!”
“I must have answers, Mickey Mouse,” Kopaka glared at his diminutive companion. “Do you not wish to know why we’ve been brought to this place?”
“Of course, I do, but -- ”
“Kopaka?” the drawled voice of Arthur Morgan broke through the blend of Arthrihel’s tone for just a moment. The angel cowboy took a few steps toward the Toa, who looked over at the man who’d said his name. The Kanohi Miru on his face shielded his expression, so Arthrihel wasn’t quite able to tell what, exactly, the ice robot’s response was, but… he would press forward, he decided. “Kopaka… that you, bud?”
Kopaka stood alarmingly still for a few moments before finally speaking. “I am Kopaka, Toa of Ice.”
And then the floor between them split open.
***
Chara Dreemurr carried her brother on her back through the battlefield, undeterred by most obstacles.
Minutes before, she’d been on the edge, near death, and ready for it — but now that she was here… now that she was back, and with Asriel… well, there was no way she was going to let any harm come to him, now was there? She had to find the medical evacs, and she had to find them
right now.
As she dodged and weaved through the streets and alleyways of Nausicaa, she found herself wondering if any of this had been worth it. She had no way of knowing how many people had made it off the island alive; no way of knowing if any of their efforts to rescue the people of the City of Hope had actually borne fruit. She’d managed to spot the occasional hovercraft fleeing the scene while she fought, but were those medical evacs? Or were they mercenaries, hired by the city, who’d realized all too quickly they’d gotten in over their head?
And in over their head they were. Chara remembered all too well the aftermath of the Siege — yes, they’d won, but at what cost? Markov had been marred beyond anything it had seen since The End. Police presence had skyrocketed, and the military organizations had started to hold more power and sway in a new, unmaking-centric world.
And the fact that most of the other worlds couldn’t be bothered to offer them any support? Well, that was just the cherry on top.
Gotta get Asriel out of here before this becomes Markov two-point-oh.
She turned a corner, and at last, there it was. A huge crater with an omega sign dug into the center of it, but most importantly — a crew of medical tents and vehicles. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath before pushing her way into the crowds, holding on tight to the sleeping Asriel.
“Excuse me—” she stammered, reaching out and trying to get someone, anyone to help, “my brother, he’s… it’s my brother, I’ve got to get him… ugh.”
Rejection after rejection as doctors and nurses and soldiers brushed past her without a second thought.
“Young one,” a voice said from behind her, reaching out and touching her shoulder. She spun around defensively, but upon seeing that this person, too, seemed to be a medic, relaxed. “Young one, do you need help?”
“Isra,” Meng shouted from behind, busting through the crowd, “
you still need help, and you don’t need to be out here in this
mess — ”
CRACK, BOOM.
A tremor flew beneath their feet, and Isra could almost feel the ground whipping beneath him. A crack opened up between he and the Dreemurrs, and he reached out, grabbing Chara by the wrist as she narrowly avoided being yanked into the abyss below.
Meng reached out, wrapping an arm around Isra’s waist and pulling him away from the edge of the cliff. They stumbled backwards, landing in a dogpile of four weird-looking folks amidst a stunned crowd of medics and people just trying to find some help. At the top of the pile, the excitement seemed to have shaken Asriel awake.
“Chara… what’s… going on?”
“The island’s breaking apart!” someone yelled from nearby, “everyone to a transport, now!”
***
Mmmmmm… how about a little nap…
No.
Mickey Mouse blinked himself awake. What had happened? One second, they’d all been gathered here, in this room, and then in the next… boom, or something? Right? He shook his head, pushing himself up off the ground and starting to try and take in his surroundings.
The entire room had been essentially upended. A small chasm in the middle now bisected the floor, water bubbling up and into the room. The mouse king watched as several of the twenty-odd others in the chamber also started to rise to their feet and absorb everything around them, until one by one, their focus stopped on the newest arrival.
Davy Jones gurgled, choking in the grip of a giant, formidable hand.
“W-what the…” the shocked voice of Dr. McNinja broke the silence. Mickey Mouse glanced over his shoulder to see that the ninja doctor stood, with his charge and her guardian, in the entrance. The doc and Juno stared up at the newcomer while Amalia still writhed in their grip, still battling the spirits her parents had forced upon her. The sight of it was something that might’ve scared Mickey on a normal day, in a normal moment, but…
But today, Darkseid was mothertruckin’ here.
The Fallen Arbiter floated above the chasm, Davy Jones firmly in his grip. He held the Arbiter of Opealon by the neck, squeezing just tight enough to be painful but not tight enough to kill. No, no, no… there were still uses yet for the captain of the
Flying Dutchman. And besides… he had insects to greet.
Mickey stumbled backwards as red eyes focused in on him. Darkseid’s gaze traversed each person in the room carefully, taking what seemed like ages to examine each of them. All insects, yes, but, for the first time… he took interest. He watched them all rise to their feet, standing in the face of him and yet also -- cowering. None would dare to challenge his power; that much he could tell from their pale expressions, their frozen features. They were all of them weak, and meaningless -- yet, their persistence had intrigued him.
Oh, well, he thought, loud enough for everyone to hear, “you all were quite fun.”
“
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
White light swirled around Mickey Mouse’s hand as he broke into action, sprinting forward toward the edge of the chasm. Ninja turtles, ninja doctors, and not-so-ninja lieutenant colonels watched as the mouse king’s gloved fingers wrapped around his keyblade, and he leapt off, flying through the air and lifting his weapon to strike the Fallen Arbiter.
Darkseid swatted the mouse back to his place like he was nothing.
*SNAP*
Flames erupted from the air around the Fallen Arbiter as Roy Mustang, too, jumped into the fray. The man let out a gutteral battle cry as the smoke around the Dark Lord began to clear, and before anyone could even see him again --
*SNAP*
More flames. Fire engulfed Darkseid and Captain Davy Jones, dancing around their gargantuan, muscular bodies as a third prepared their shot. The flames began to swirl faster, whirlpooling around Darkseid’s free hand and disappearing from view. Mustang staggered back, gazing up at the Fallen Arbiter and seeing no evidence of even a single burn on his charcoal-gray skin or his blue-and-black power armor.
Darkseid scoffed, and like it was nothing, fired Mustang’s flames right back at him. A huge, brightly-burning fireball slammed into the lieutenant colonel’s abdomen, knocking him down and onto his back.
“
Lieutenant Colonel!” Hawkeye shouted from the other side of the chasm. Darkseid’s gaze flew to her with an entertained smirk.
While he was distracted, Arthrihel held up the volcanic pistol, and squeezed the trigger.
*BANG!*
Darkseid flinched as the bullet collided with the side of his skull, his scowl deepening as he zeroed in his gaze on the fusion of Arthur Morgan and Ezrihel. Individually, neither had crossed into the Fallen Arbiter’s notice; together, they were nothing more than a flea.
Arthrihel blinked, and Darkseid was there, floating in front of him, Davy Jones still held in a stranglehold in one hand. The dark lord’s other hand flew up and backhanded the fusion across the face, sending the angel cowboy flying clean across the room. Arthrihel smashed into the wall of the temple’s central chamber, crumpling into a bruised and battered heap on the floor, almost buried by marble chunks his impact had dislodged.
Darkseid watched with some interest as the avenger tried to dig himself out of the rubble. Was this the best the Crossroads had to offer? Certainly the combined might of the andromedan and the Dante’s Abyss champion was the most powerful force in the room, but… was that it?
Eh, he thought,
better stamp it out now.
“Do not touch my friend again,” the whirring voice of the Toa of Ice growled as Kopaka landed on Darkseid’s side of the chasm.
“You aren’t playing very fair,” the Man In Red scoffed, leaping up onto a raised marble platform and preparing an attack to aim at the Fallen Arbiter.
“Yeah, man,” Stephen called from the other side, kneeling next to a crumpled and broken Mickey Mouse, “you’re way outnumbered.”
Darkseid’s gaze fell on the raven-haired Android across the way. Another gestalt, just as powerful? Highly interesting. A pity that these fools would try every trick in the book and still fail to reach even a fraction of the power he wielded in his fingertips. Perhaps, he thought, he should just kill them all now; but what would be the fun in that? He much preferred delegating, allowing his peons to do the work… and he had just the perfect plan to rid himself of these pests.
He pulled Jones’ face within inches of his own. “I grow bored of them, Captain,” he sighed, “and their impudence.”
Davy’s tentacles twitched. “They do not know—they canna’ understand the power ye wield,” he whispered, coughing and choking as he did so.
“No,” Darkseid nodded, “but you do. Yes?”
Davy glanced to Arthrihel, then around at as many of them as he could. Then, finally, he let his eyes fall back on the Fallen Arbiter. “I do.”
“Then perhaps you’re not a fool,” the Dark Lord smirked. “Perhaps — unlike any of them — you understand why I’ve brought you here. Why I ripped your beloved temple out of the sky. Stole it back from the Skylanders who stole it from you, Davy. So you would come. And so you would thank me.”
Darkseid lifted Davy Jones high into the air, then slammed him into the ground. Kopaka lifted his ice sword and took only a single step forward before the darkness’ voice was in his ear receptors.
Kneel.
He kneeled, like he had no choice.
“Koppy!” Mickey Mouse shouted, breaking free of Stephen’s grasp and rushing for the edge of the chasm to lay on the attack once more.
Kneel.
And the mouse king was on his knees, bowing to someone altogether diametrically opposed to every fiber of his being. Mickey stared across the gap at Darkseid as the Fallen Arbiter glared at him with horrifying red eyes, floating down to the ground and landing just feet away from the crater where Davy Jones’ mangled body lay.
“Captain Jones,” the Fallen Arbiter growled, “if you offer me your service willingly…”
“No!” Roy Mustang shouted.
“…if you offer your service willingly, there will be further rewards in store. You know of what I speak,” Darkseid continued, kneeling next to the Arbiter of Opealon. “If you join me… accept your unmade destiny… your surface shall go unharmed. I shall exact my vengeance only on the traitorous Skylanders.”
Davy shivered. Was this the power that Darkseid carried now? He seemed so much… stronger than he’d been, all those years ago. Back when the eight remaining Arbiters had sealed him away, back when they’d exacted revenge on him for murdering — unmaking — Aragorn, back when their powers combined had been enough to stop the unmaking, they hoped, for good. What a horrifying thing it was to be wrong, and not just been wrong, but weaker now, incapable of standing up to him individually, and probably not together, either…
Davy’s eyes flickered down, and every would-be hero felt his thoughts, his gaze, on them, all at once. He could no longer bear to look at Darkseid’s proffered hand, at the promise he’d been offered.
Will it be one of them this time?
The choice was easy.
A green, slimy hand raised up and clasped Darkseid’s charcoal grey fist. Scored by the sounds of protests from all nearby, the Fallen Arbiter lifted Davy Jones up, and engulfed him in a bright blue light. The light exploded outward, filling the central antechamber and, for a few seconds, blinding everyone there.
In the white-out, the heroes gathered heard only one more phrase from Darkseid. “Good choice, Captain.”
When Dr. McNinja’s vision came back, Darkseid was gone. So was Captain Jones, too — at least the way the heroes knew him up till now. In his place stood a disgusting, malformed, crustacean-like creature, ugly in every way, its claws clicking and its gaze surveying its future victims with all the markings of a predator examining its prey. The doctor knew that in a situation like this, with a possessed child and a pretty undefended fae under his care, there was only one thing to do — under both his ninja code and his medical code.
And that was to
nope right on out of here.
Grabbing Amalia by the scruff of her neck and Juno by the wrist, Dr. McNinja turned tail and tried to run. They’d just reached the entrance to the antechamber when Godzilla came crashing down in front of them, tumbling into view with the Living clambering out of a hole in the wall just a few meters away.
“Okay, girls, so maybe not this wa—” Doc started, but got cut off by the entire chamber starting to shake and rattle. Cracks began to snake through the floor and walls of the Water Temple, and it soon became quite apparent: this place wasn’t long for the world.
The unmade form of Davy Jones lifted off the ground, snarling at the collection of heroes gathered all around him. Would any of them dare challenge him, even as the temple itself began to collapse on top of them? Would any of them muster up the courage they’d need if they had any hope of actually making it to his master, let alone defeating him?
He doubted any would prove worthy… but didn’t doubt they’d try anyway.
Well, then. Come forth, me hearties.
Davy Jones has been unmade. I'll try and get the pic to post in Discord but it isn't working here, but basically he's super ugly and has crab features instead of squid features now.
Nausicaa is falling apart and sinking into the ocean. Everyone must evacuate, now, or risk being sucked into the depths of the ocean.
But, naturally, unmade Davy isn’t going to let you get away without a fight, and I assume some of y’all hero-types are probably gonna try to keep him at bay!
This is the final act of the Nausicaa Incident. Thank you for your patience with this update; this phase will last until Saturday, November 20, 2021 at 10AM EST.
