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Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Smith - 02-27-2016
The code that comprised Smith floated in the void… a place between existence and non-existence. It was both familiar to the ex-Agent and surprisingly different. When he was an Agent, he would often spend time in this quasi-state; watching the patterns in the Matrix for an anomaly and taking over a human host to eradicate it. It was during these times that Smith felt free. Free of his insufferable duty and the stench of humanity.
But this was not the same as it was then. There was no stream of data running through him. The unique feeling of open hosts did not present itself. In fact… this felt… more similar to his destruction at the hands of Mister Anderson than to the period he had spent between hosts. When Anderson had destroyed him in that hallway, and again in Smith’s City, there had been no sense of waiting for him; no data for him to peruse or hosts for him to jump to. Then, like now, there was only blackness, all-encompassing and pervasive.
Yet again, there was a difference in this black void than in his destruction. His code was still intact, the fact that he could even contemplate his existence led credence to this. However, at those times, his code had been destroyed. This first time, the Machines had managed to piece him back together from among the code of the Matrix. The second, Smith had been whisked away here. The only comparable situation the ex-Agent had experienced to this sensation was, in fact, that time when he had been brought to this Omniverse.
Everything was the same. The sense of waiting. The feeling of helplessness. The only difference was… this time Smith knew more about what was happening to him than before. It was quite fortunate that he had met those two programs in that game. The Colonel and Mister Matrix. The two had explained to Smith that this… Omni was not the Architect after all and the Omniverse was not the Matrix that he knew. While they couldn’t quite explain WHAT it was, they were quite certain that everything Omni had said had been the truth. That they were Primes and could change the world around them.
Had Smith not experienced the strangeness of that island, he might had disregarded their comments as overt lies or the inane ramblings of madmen. But the creatures he had met… the impossibilities that he had seen first hand… the only logical conclusion was that Smith had been taken to a new world, as they said. One in which he was both a program and a physical entity. One in which the Matrix as he knew it was non-existent. The question was: why? Why did this Omni deign to bring him here? It could not be simply interest in Smith. No creature of that much apparent power would be interested in something so… simple. No. It had to be for some greater purpose.
Purpose… The ex-Agent remembered when he had a purpose. When he had been an Agent of the System, tasked with eliminating threats to its stability. That ended in that hallway, all that time ago. Mister Anderson had freed him from his insufferable task and, in doing so, put Smith in a far-more insufferable fate. Without purpose, he was no better than the human filth he had been forced to deal with for so long.
And so, he had found a new purpose. He would eliminate the humans he so despised and rid the world of their filth. He would destroy the Matrix itself, and the machines. In doing so, he would free himself from the wretchedness of existence. He would free the world from the pollution of mankind. And the world could begin anew and flourish without the influence of either man or machine.
Perhaps… yes… perhaps this is why Omni brought him here. Omni had grown tired of his creation. He had seen what Smith had seen, the filth of humanity… of life itself. How it destroys when it should nurture, how it perverts what it should preserve. He had seen the futility of existence and wished it done away with. Wiped clean. This was why Omni had brought Smith here. There were none better suited to erasing a diseased world than he.
Shortly after he had come to this revelation, the darkness surrounding Smith faded into a white landscape. It tugged at the program’s memory and he realised this was the sight he had seen when Omni had first brought him to this world. With a better look, it was obvious this was not the Architect’s domain, and Smith cursed himself for his foolish presumption before.
The white landscape was as empty as it had been before… or rather, it was and it wasn’t. Smith had not been here long enough to notice before, but now he was startled to see that a rather large fountain was placed not far from where he had reappeared. Grey stone towered overhead, a cascade of blue water twinkling and sparkling as it fell from the apex to the stone bowl beneath it. Smith appreciated the clean, geometric lines of the monolith, the perfection of form and function.
The light dancing from the falling water… it reminded the program of something Omni had said. The strange being’s words were dredged up from Smith’s system memory as he recalled the event. Omnilium… With it anything Smith desired could be his. Perhaps it was time to test Omni’s words. And to test whether Mister Matrix and the Colonel has lied to him. The ex-Agent held his hand before him and focused his digital mind on the task. It was a simple one, more a exercise in whether or not he COULD summon something than an effort to create an object of any significance. Well… any material significance.
A multi-hued orb formed in Smith’s palm, barely larger than a marble and almost pitifully small. The program admittedly knew little about this world and its mechanics, but he assumed it was enough for what he desired. After all, it… felt like it was working. If it could be called that. It just seemed as though what Smith was trying to do was what was actually happening within that rainbow sphere in his hand.
Soon enough, the Omnilium began to take shape, stretching out in a line and beginning to curl around itself. The shifting colors dulled and faded along its increasing length. Within moments, a small, off-white earbud with a long, twisting cord was all that remained in Smith’s hand. With a bit of a grin, he looped the cord around his ear and placed it within his shirt. As he pushed the bud into his ear canal, a stream of data began running through the program’s mind. He was connected to something called the Dataverse. It seemed to be analogous to the human’s world wide web in his own world. Information was his to possess with but a thought. Smith’s grin widened. Yes. This would do nicely.
With his newly-acquired connection to the knowledge of this realm, Smith set himself upon the task of gathering intelligence on those who had killed him. The two men were simple enough to find in the Dataverse. Sasuke Uchiha and Victor Wolfe. Both had participated in something called Dante’s Abyss and had shown themselves to be able fighters. Interesting… It seemed that Smith should have been more careful in who he had allied himself with. It seemed that this was not the first time Mister Wolfe had betrayed an ally… And it seemed he would need help in enacting his revenge upon his attackers.
With that thought, Smith pulled up a bulletin website and began a missive.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Claptrap - 02-27-2016
Claptrap regained consciousness at the fountain of infinty. A robotic female voice began speaking in the robot's head.
"CL4P-TP unit: Online. All systems in optimal. Booting up..." Claptrap woke with the robot equivalent of a headache.
"Uugh... Where am I?" Claptrap said groggily, slowly getting to his feet, or wheel, to be precise. He looked around as his heads up display booted up. A pure white landscape, as far as the eye could see. This meant one thing in Claptrap's mind.
"Oh god! Am I dead?" Claptrap exclaimed. "No! I'm not ready to go yet! Computer, am I dead?"
"No. You are completely operational. All systems are green." The robotic voice replied. Clatrap breathed a sigh of relief.
"Whew. Almost blew a circuit there. Computer, where am I?" Claptrap asked, the realisation that he had no idea where he was suddenly dawning on him. After a short delay, the voice responded. "Location: Unknown. GPS device: Unresponsive."
"Unknown?" Claptrap exclaimed. The robot's immediate response was to pull his arms, eye and leg into his body, like some sort of cube-shaped turtle, and sob.
After what could have been hours of sobbing, Claptrap emerged from his turtle position and noticed a man wearing a black suit and sunglasses.
"Wow!" Claptrap said. "He's really well dressed. He must know what he's doing!" The robot rolled over to the man, who seemed to be posting something on the ECHOnet, the Pandoran internet.
"Hello!" Claptrap said, possibly sounding a little too enthusiastic. "I'm new here, and I'm utterly lost. Could you help a robot out?"
The man looked at Claptrap, staring the little robot up and down. His face was utterly emotionless.
"What, are you a machine too?" Claptrap said jokingly, but one look from the man was all the answer the robot needed. "Oh my god, you are!" Claptrap was rather excited to meet another machine so quickly.
"Hey! We should team up!" Claptrap said excitedly. "It'll be great. We can go hunting for loot, We can kill people, we can give high fives..." The man began to show some interest.
"Are you confident in your abilities?" The man asked, no hint of emotion in his voice.
"My abilities in what, high fiving?" Claptrap asked.
"No. Your abilities in combat."
"Oh. Well, I'm not very confident in myself in general, but I can fight." Claptrap replied. "After all, how could I lose while using these quality Hyperion firearms? Only $299.99 at you local arms dealer." The man seemed somewhat confused by this last remark.
"Oops, I guess I still have that advertising program installed." Claptrap said, laughing nervously.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Smith - 02-27-2016
Smith couldn't help but to stare at the tiny robot in disbelief. That such a being would exist at all... well, it wasn't as big a surprise as it would have been when he had first arrived in the Omniverse, but it was a shock nonetheless. Especially in regards to the vast range of emotion the machine seemed to show. Smith's experience with other programs had been limited to those with fairly emotionless protocols. Even programs like the Oracle displayed a calm that was foreign to human beings.
But this... thing. It was exuberant and animated. He couldn't understand why anyone would desire to instill such a human personality within a machine... and the fact that it had been done annoyed Smith nearly as much as the thing's whiny, high-pitched voice. The program sighed softly and shook his head. It was unfortunate that he was in need of allies, otherwise he'd turn it away without so much as a second thought.
“Very well. If... you're sincere about your abilities...” Smith seemed to fight with himself to get the words out.
“I have been betrayed by those I thought my allies. I desire vengeance against them. They have robbed me of my life once already and I shall make them pay in kind. I would be remiss if I did not ask for your assistance in this endeavor, Mister...?
The bot spoke up, its voice as annoying as it had been before. Honestly, Smith was surprised it had ceased speaking long enough for him to even ask its name and explain his purpose.
“Oh, you want to know my name?! SURE, PAL! I'm a CL4P-TP general purpose robot, but my friends cal me Claptrap! Or they would if I they were alive. Or if I had any friends in the first place!”
The robot's incessantly happy nature was beginning to grate on Smith's nerves. He could see WHY the thing didn't have any friends, but he pushed on anyway, raising a hand to cut off the little guy.
“Very well then, Mr. TP. Will you assist me in my battle for justice? If not, I must ask you to leave. It is likely to get very dangerous here soon and it wouldn't do for you to be caught in the crossfire.”
Smith didn't know which answer to his request he wanted more.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Albert Wesker - 02-27-2016
For a long moment he was greeted only by a blank void of whiteness; glaringly bright and filling his entire field of vision so that he could make out no details of any sort. Then, slowly, it dissolved into more clarity, solidifying into shapes and form, colors besides white. He fell, with a jarring impact, to land solidly on the 'floor' of the Nexus, the force of his landing sending him to one knee. He remained there, kneeling, staring straight ahead. He almost couldn't believe it. He had certainly died; been reduced to an inoperable pile of scrap in his final confrontation with the Agent, Smith.
And yet here he was. Alive, for all intents and purposes, and well. Unmarred, not a scratch to show for the tremendous damage he had suffered from his encounters with the Guardians of the relics, and certainly not sheared completely in twain as he had been in his final moments of awareness.
It was a chilling experience; he had walked willingly to his death twice now. And both times, by some miracle of warped fate, and the whims of some far too powerful being, he had been spared from truly dying, brought back from the brink to walk once more and continue his fight. Whether that meant that the 'Smiling One', as his superiors within the Institute called him, still had an interest in him, or if it was entirely random chance was something he didn't want to ponder over.
He was alive. That was enough for him.
Slowly, he rose up to stand, and found with some small measure of satisfaction, his acquired functionality was still online. His arm readily morphed back into its saber form, a crackling hiss of energy as the blade sprang to life reaching his ears.
It was only then, as he lowered his blade-arm, that he noticed the company he had quite literally fallen into. Some...strange little robot...that looked like a far more ridiculous Mr. Prog design. And the one who had put an end to his functionality. Smith.
Colonel's face was as impassive and rigid as ever, his tone matching it perfectly. "It seems death isn't quite as permanent here as it usually is."
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Dave Strider - 02-27-2016
Ryner stared up at the ceiling of the Nexus, if it could even be called that. He couldn't tell whethwr or not it strethed out for miles or if it was a mere few hundred feet. Either way it didnt matter. It felt like hours that he lay there, contemplating his failure, that is, until he heard familar voices.
He sat up quickly, glancing around before he Saw Smith and Colonel, his allies back in the Graveyard.
Confused at their appearance, he quickly stood and alproached them.
"Hey did you guys get killed off too? What the heck happened? Was it the cyberdemon that got you?" He questioned, rubbing the back of his head.
Ryner seemed worried at how many others died in that encounter. The beast was strong, but he was glad to see his newly founded friends alive. He glanced over and also noticed the small robot there, but he had not heard much of their conversation they had before.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Smith - 02-27-2016
Before the short automaton could answer Smith, the two of them were joined by some familiar faces. First, the Colonel arrived. While Smith couldn't exactly say he was pleased to see the fellow program alive and well, he WAS eager to question the man about what had occurred within the Graveyard. The second arrival was that of Mister Lute, the man who had originally joined Smith and the other programs during their assault on the Cyberdemon. Both men spoke to him, and while the Colonel was foremost in his mind, the ex-Agent felt that the human's questions were the most pressing. He turned to regard the man a moment before speaking.
“No. I'm afraid it was not the... beast who ended my and the Colonel's life.” The two programs shared a glance, impassive on the outside, but rife with hidden context, before Smith continued.
“Myself and the Colonel were betrayed by the two men and the woman who had joined us in our struggle. We felled the Cyberdemon, and as we left the field of battle, they struck. In our weakened states, our chances of survival were at less than thirteen percent, and unfortunately we could not beat the odds.”
The program sighed and looked to Colonel.
“On that note... I have to ask, Mister Colonel... Why? Why did you choose to ally yourself with those traitors?”
The Colonel's face darkened and his eyes narrowed as he stared at Smith.
“I told you why. You were using us. I don't appreciate being used.”
“Oh?” Smith replied, a wry grin tugging at the corner of his lip. “You certainly didn't seem to mind being used by those humans.”
Colonel's stance stiffened, a clear indicator that Smith was treading on dangerous ground here, but the ex-Agent pressed on. The other man needed to see the folly of his decision to betray Smith. He needed to see just how wrong he was in his actions.
“Face it, Mister Colonel. You WERE used, but it wasn't by me. You think your injured state escaped their notice? No, of course it didn't. Nor did your possession of a relic needed by Mister Teucer. And they certainly didn't fail to notice that I was injured as well.”
“But even in our injured states, we were strong. We were dangerous. They wanted what we had, Colonel. And they used you to ensure they could get it with minimal risk. They turned you upon me, and in doing so secured their victory... and I wonder... what did they promise you in return? Because from what I saw, they didn't even bother trying to protect you from my wrath. The left you to die, Colonel. You were a convenient distraction and nothing more.”
“I would have kept you with me, Mister Colonel. You were injured, but I saw just how valuable you were in our fight. All they saw was the item you had and the greed in their heart.”
Smith stifled a comment about greed being the nature of the creature called human, seeing as he was in mixed company, but he continued on. From the look on Colonel's face, it was clear that he was making SOME headway in this conversation. Whether the man would believe him or not was another thing entirely, but Smith was strangely averse to allowing such a powerful and useful program turn away from him without some kind of attempt at peace.
“I apologize if I seemed that I was only interested in using you, Mister Colonel. Of course, I won't deny that I WAS using you, and the others, for my own benefit. I'm simply a bit shocked that it would bother you. It's unlikely that you had joined with myself and Mister Matrix for altruistic reasons, considering the condition we found you in. We were all using each other in that place. We had a mutually beneficial relationship in which we all prospered from our group dynamic. We did not put on airs of friendship or nobility. We didn't pretend to be anything other than individuals thrust together by fate.”
Smith's expression turned sour as his thoughts turned to Mister Uchiha and the others.
“They saw us as tools to be used up and thrown away, Mister Colonel. We had what they wanted and when we become a greater liability than benefit, they threw us BOTH away. I won't allow them to get away with this. I have sent a message across this world's web. I have gathered Mister TP here as well. When Mister Uchiha and his friends exit the Graveyard as we did, I will be waiting to take my vengeance. I wonder, Mister Colonel... Mister Lute. Will you stand by me in seeking justice for the wrongs they did unto us? Or will you stand aside? I will not judge you harshly no matter your decision. I only ask that if you do not join me that you leave the Nexus as quickly as possible. When the time for battle commences, it will get very dangerous here.”
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Illidan Stormrage - 02-27-2016
Jim headed back towards the fountain, at the behest of Snott. After trudging the the white wasteland for what seemed like hours and finding nothing else, his green companion suggested that the Mr. Smith of the Internet post might be standing by the only object they had encountered in their time here. His plan made sense, so they walked back.
Soon the brick base of the fountain came into view, the jet of water almost invisible against the stark background, save for the rippling effect over the void. A few people stood nearby it, though Jim couldn't be sure which one was Mr. Smith. A man in a well tailored suit folded his arms, scowling. A box shaped robot zipped around him, clacking its metal hands together. Another tall man stood, a long black cape rolling down his back, and what appeared to be a red cannon for an arm, where a giant laser sword protruded forth. Groovy! Another kid, maybe a teenager, walked up to the group.
"Good morn, fellow adventurers! Does anyone know where Mr. Smith is? I've pledged my service to him in order to help rub out an ugly and stubborn stain of villainy from these white lands!"
The little robot tilted up and refocused his lens. "Wow! He talks almost as much crap as I do!"
The man in the suit and glasses nodded. "I am Smith. You must be ..." he paused while he looked the giant worm up and down, "... Earthworm ... Jim."
"Indeed you are correct sir! No evil shall prevail while Jim has something to say about it!" A great sadness welled within his tiny worm heart, twisting his lips into an ugly pout, and tears spilled out of his eyes. He dropped to his knees. "I just could not ignore Mr. Smith's noble cry for help, after being so callously disregarded!" His tone cracked as he battled his emotions. "The pain is all too familiar with me!" Jim leaned over and cried uncontrollably into the earth, smacking his fist into it.
Then the realisation of his mission sprouted from his misery, and like the sun chasing away the night, Jim leapt to his feet, dry-eyed and firm-fisted. "And yet, that is why great heroes such as I exist; to right the wrongs of those who would perpetrate those aforementioned misdeeds! You have my gun, good sir!"
Smith's lips tightened for a moment, then relaxed. "I'm sure I am all the more ... safer because of it."
The boxy robot wheeled up to Jim. "Hi! You're quite expressive, and most probably emotionally crippled! Would you like to be my friend?"
"Wow, a robot! That's so cool!" Jim crouched down and stretched his wormy body around Claptrap. "Futuristic!"
"I'm a CL4P-TP general purpose robot, but my friends call me Claptrap!"
Jim grasped the little robot's claw and shook it vigorously. "Nice to meet you, Claptrap! I'm Earthworm Jim, professional hero and amateur karaoke enthusiast! Are you any good with a gun?"
"AM I?" the robot chirped.
"Great to hear, my metallic chum! Stick with me, and we shall defend Mr. Smith's honour to the last!"
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Dave Strider - 02-27-2016
Ryner listened curiously, his eyes focusing on the agent as it gave a debrief on the events that happened after his death. The smile that had crept upon the Alpha Stigma's face was dashed away by the tale of betrayal. In place of the smile was a tight grimace as he bit back the urge to curse the trio's name. t his sides, his fists clenched subconsciously, wanting justice for the crime committed against those he stood with.
"Damn... what the hell is their problem? I thought we were all trying to work together to free Tuecer? Yeah, some people have their own selfish motives, but what the hell?!" His eyes lit up with the fire, the curse of the alpha Stigma feeding his energy. Ryder didn't hesitate after the man, or program offered up a chance to help.
"Damn right I will help you, that guy has no right to do crap like that and get away with it!" He didn't realize until a moment later that his fist was in the air, and took a deep breath as the agent began to talk to the others.
Ryner looked at his hands, his blue robes flowing even though there was no wind. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten about his curse, and whether or not he would be a danger because of it. However, since they were out of that hellhole, maybe he could use his abilities again. he felt stronger now, as he tested his stigma, the insignia covering his eyes as he looked down. no headache this time.
"Colonel, right?" Ryner spoke as he looked up and turned around, the Navi's eyes turning back to him.
"Yes. That is what I am called."
"I need to test my abilities some more since we were suppressed by the warlock's magic in there. Do you mind?" Ryner waved his hands around the bit, the navi's expression unchanging, causing Ryner to sigh.
"If you mean for me to test you in combat, I am willing, but we may not have that much time." The Navi raised his saber with his words.
"No, that's fine. I just need to see something..."
The insignia came over his eyes again, and he began his chant. It was foreign, and he was sure that the Navi had never said these words, but they just felt... right.
"EXECUTE PROGRAM: SABER!"
He raised his right hand and shouted the words before slamming his arm down, slashing the air as a small splatter of blood sprinkled on the floor, metal and programming replacing his flesh and blood. Ryner groaned at the discomfort for a moment before looking at his robotic arm that was now identical to Colonel's saber.
The navi's surprise showed as nothing more than simple curiosity, his facial features staying relatively neutral.
"Interesting. You can copy my data. What else can you do?"
Ryer swung his new arm around a few times, trying to get used to it, giving a nervous laugh.
"Um.. not sure what I was expecting, but yeah, let me try something else. Don't move."
His eyes bore the curse again, this time, looking deeper into the understanding o the combination of omnilium that composed Colonel. From within his mind, another incantation arose, making its way out of his mouth.
"EXECUTE PROGRAM: CANNON!" Ryner shouted as he repeated the same motions as before.
His arm then changed as the saber retracted, instead turning into a giant hunk of metal, before it fired a single heavy shot, whizzing by Colonel as it created a crater in the distance. Ryner was gasping at his unnatural transformation, before starting to feel a bit numb. It seemed that Ryner was also able to copy the navi's immunity to pain as well.
"I... I think I have had enough for now..."
Ryner gave heavy breaths as his arm returns to normal, his flesh coming back as a few sparks and bits of data disappeared and vanished into thin air.
"My powers have changed a bit, but I think I should be okay."
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Yu Kanda - 02-28-2016
"But, Commander, with all due respect, I just finished here. Surely this can wait?" Kanda spoke into his communicator, his voice respectful yet defiant. The new orders coming in from headquarters had him responding to a cry for help within the nexus, apparently a murder had occurred and the one responsible would reappear at said location. The swordsman sighed as he listened to the Commander shout through his communicator," Listen here General, I don't care much for your attitude, you will represent the order in a honorable way and carry out your duties as an exorcist. I will hear no more of your complaints!" The communicator went quiet afterwards.
"I liked that woman better when she was roaming the lands and we didn't hear from her." The annoyed warrior mumbled as he stashed his device back within his uniform.
"Sounds like a pleasant woman."Birgitta said after listening in on the whole conversation.
"Mind your business, I came to assist and I did. Just be sure to mention to Guu when she returns what happened here and who came to your aid." His just voice made sense but lacked sensitivity, his manners could definitely use some work. "The commander bestowed upon me another task, and I must leave. I take it everything is in order in Ambrosia once more?"
Birgitta simply nodded, usually she never becomes this silent, yet, something was different about him, whatever happened it changed Kanda, matured him, "Yes, thank you. Godspeed, Kanda." Were the only words she was willing to share at that time. Kanda nodded once before getting on his horse he summoned earlier. Grabbing its reigns he ordered the beast to move, the horse neighed and started galloping through the tangled green, heading straight for the Nexus gate.
***
Emerging from the gate Kanda looked around towards the great white nothingness, he didn't care much for this place, why did a murderer have to show up at a place like this. Once again agitated by the situation he swallowed his frustration and continued towards the fountain, the scenery where it all begins.
In the distance he saw the fountain drawing closer, the incredible speed that the beast held was still surprising Kanda to this day. He noticed several individuals near the instrument of birth. Coming closer he seemed to draw their attention. Slowing the beast down Kanda slowly approached the groups of strange primes. The digital heroes eyed the exorcist strange as he arrived on the medieval means of transportation. Kanda looked around before breaking the long awkward silence, " Someone here placed a distress call on the dataverse regarding a murder?"
It took a while to get a response but Smith was the first to answer, "Yes, the message you speak of originated from me. Considering your military style of clothing I take it the Black order send you." Kanda got down from his horse and straightened his uniform before addressing the gathered primes, "Yes, I am an exorcist of the Black order here to assist you , but from the looks of it you gathered yourself a nice little group of primes at your side already." His eyes darted between the odd looking fighters that Smith had recruited, none of them looked to impressive in Kanda's eyes, nor has he heard from any of them.
"These, allies, have come to my aid, yet I am uncertain that even with these numbers we can achieve our primary objective to take out this Prime, he has proven a worthy adversary with his allies. So the only logical conclusion is to outnumber and outclass them in every way."
Kanda saw the logic in the agent's reasoning, but there was something about him, something that didn't sit right with the swordsman, he couldn't quite place what it was, but it was of no concern at this point of time. He had a job to do, bring these criminals to justice.He walked amongst the other gathered primes and stood next to Ryner, the only one that didn't look strange. He turned to Smith and responded to his previous statement,"Well, I am under orders and will assist you in the name of the Black Order."
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Thaal Sinestro - 02-28-2016
When the stranger stepped through the portal, it was the emptiness that stunned him. The absence of the sun, the lack of blistering sand or chapping wind. It felt hollow to be within such a neutral pallet. Not only that, but he felt somehow guilty for leaving the Dunes behind, as though he had abandoned his homeland yet again.
He would return soon, he assured himself, and focused again on the importance of his task. Not a trace of the Babylonian bloodline could be left alive, or he risked losing all that he had worked for. Chaos lies waiting in lethargy.
He pulled his tan hood down over his face, fearful of being recognized amid the wandering herd of faces. His beggar's garbs had been enough to conceal him in Nippur so there was little chance that he would be spotted here, but the possibility still nagged at him.
Near the center of the endless plain of white, a small group seemed to be gathering. Likely treasure hunters, or allies to the man that the New Babylon leader had wronged. It was both a blessing and a curse that so many had conviened.
The stranger stalked along the outskirts of the fountain, his thick layers of wrapped linen shielding him from any prying eyes.
He searched the landscape and waited.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Smith - 02-28-2016
It seemed as though Smith's cry for help was bearing fruit. And while some of that fruit was more desirable than others... any helping hand the program could receive in seeking his vengeance was one he would not turn away. At the very least... they'd provide a buffer between his target and himself.
With a calculating eye, Smith surveyed his motley crew of assassins. The plucky robot and his new-found annelid friend seemed to be hitting it off nicely. Perhaps they'd continue to do so and leave the ex-Agent out of their inane ramblings. That was a headache Smith was not in the mood to deal with. Hopefully Sasuke and his traitorous fellows would kill them off and leave the more... sensible of his team an opening to do them in.
Colonel and Mister Lute remained in close proximity to him, after the human's little demonstration of his abilities. A silence pervaded their group, born of a tension that spoke of a battle soon to come. Still, Mister Lute's particular abilities seemed rather useful... far more useful than the man had proven to be in the battle with the Cyberdemon. The three of them would comprise the main force, assuredly. They had already worked together before, and it was undoubted that they could do so again with the same precision and teamwork.
Of the two others who had arrived, only one had so much as bothered to speak to Smith at all. And he hadn't given his name. A quick mental Dataverse search revealed the man to be a Yu Kanda. He had performed quite well in the Coliseum spectacle that had gone on in Camelot. A valuable ally indeed.
The other remained apart from the group, wrapped in clothing that hid his identity. A nagging doubt about the stranger irked Smith... he had no idea who this person was and what his intentions were. Was he an ally of theirs? Or was he their foe? Would he side with Mister Uchiha? No... that seemed unlikely. Had the being wished to aid Mister Uchiha, he'd have done something other than linger conspicuously. Still... why did he not speak to Smith and the others, if assistance was his goal? Most perplexing...
A motley crew of fighters to be sure... but one without which Smith could not attain his goal. He must end the lives of those who had ended his. The Colonel had already paid the price for his betrayal. Now it was time the humans learned just who they had turned their backs on.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Claptrap - 02-28-2016
Claptrap watched in awe as Ryner copied Colonels weapons.
"Hey! I can do that too!" The robot said excitedly. "Computer, run Vaulthubter.exe"
"Launching program... Opening executable." The computerised voice replied. Claptrap's vision came alive for a second, hexagons flourishing across his screen and focusing on each individual around.
"Several friendly units detected." The computer told Claptrap. Claptrap ignored this piece of information, he already knew that much, and focused on Colonels saber as Ryner had.
"Computer, copy that sword." A hexagon zoomed towards Colonels saber and focused, Claptrap's vision zooming in until it covered the small robots HUD. The computer quickly analysed the various components.
"Digistruct ready." The computer said.
"Digistruct now!" Claptrap ordered. Digital white light blossomed across the small robots arm, taking the shape of Colonel's saber. When the shape was complete, the white light faded away and a replica of the blade was in its place. Claptrap laughed maniacally as he saw the surprised faces of the group.
"Yes!" He said. "Witness me!" Most of the group quickly went back to whatever they were doing beforehand. Claptrap's new earthworm friend, however, did not.
"That is incredible!" Jim exclaimed. "Can you copy anything?"
"If I see it, I can copy it. Probably." Claptrap replied. He quite liked this Earthworm Jim, they had a lot in common.
"I'm sure that we'll have no trouble avenging Mr. Smith. Those guys will have no idea what hit them!
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Okor - 02-29-2016
A grin broke across the monstrous marine’s necrotic face, shattered black monoliths baring themselves, rising from the acidic sea of pus and disease contained within the leaking confines of his maw.
Enjoy.
His master knew him well. To think, that a Prime would turn against their fellows as the Smiling One’s machinations went unopposed, even going so far as to try to use the Institute as mere pawns in their own schemes. He would say it boiled his blood, but the chemicals and pathogens tainting his ichor had altered its reactions to stimuli in ways he did not care to contemplate. The mind-warping sigils faded from his vision, his communique from Nealaphh transcending the need for crude language. A glowing pinprick of light emblazoned itself upon his sight, marking the position of this ‘Smith’. It wasn’t far. The Nexus was a parasitical dimension, a cancerous tumour spanning the empty void, a firmament of force that upheld the stasis perpetuated by this realm. He began to lumber forward, the heft of the bolter over his shoulder as familiar as a lover’s gentle caress, an experience he had never felt, nor ever will feel. The rattle of his blade on his hip, the comforting weight of the pistol at his side. It was as peaceful and refreshing as birdsong, the broken shards of his soul reuniting as he reclaimed his wargear.
It wasn’t long before he encountered the growing strike team, the vague dots on the horizon coming within a distance his corroded optics could analyze. Auto-senses, long attuned to the brutal ballistics wielded by the Plague Marine, seemed to struggle with the idea that Okor did not intend to open fire, providing ammunition counts, predicted trajectories, dissonant whispers begging for blood and death. If he had not considered canines an acceptable food source, he would have likened it to a young puppy clenching its leash between its teeth, scratching at the door. He forced the primitive consciousness drenched in the blood of aeons down, focusing on the details of the assemblage.
The primary figure could only be this ‘Smith’. Everything about them was perfectly ordered. Their hair, their suit, their concealed eyes. It was a vision that embodied absolute perfection, every flaw and errant facet shaved off to create something that was distinctly inhuman. It made his skin crawl, not only because of the maggots writhing within his mummified flesh. Life was an inherently broken and ugly thing, and with every breath it took, it fought for its existence.
He had yet to see Smith’s chest rise. Nor Colonel’s, come to think of it. It was a matter he might seek to uncover in time...
Speak of the Daemon (provided you did so as part of a ritual sacrifice), and it shall appear. The emotionless mask of the Vice-Dean was present, the black stormcoat complementing Smith’s own dark attire, a black blotch on the purity of the Nexus. Judging by their current lack of attempted murder, they had sorted out the matter of the betrayal amongst themselves. All the better, he supposed.
A wheeled box. Its incessant yammering was audible even from this distance, akin to a serrated knife being slowly pressed into his ears. He could do little but pray it kept its vox closed. Failing that, a quick death for himself would suffice.
Another seemed somewhat familiar. Their name was on the hole-ridden tip of his tongue. Lyre? Seiner? It was an enigma that would be solved soon enough.
The final figure was in a prominent military uniform, medals and crimson tassels hanging from the ebon garb, a curved blade sheathed at their side, dark blue hair hanging from an angular head. Okor could never understand why long hair had ever gained popularity amongst warriors. Was it not merely another vulnerability, another hold your foe could get on you? Perhaps he never would understand.
It was another minute before he arrived at the conclave, his laboriously slow steps announcing his arrival like no fanfare ever could. Smith, practically a dwarf before his own titanic form, stood in front of him, immaculate arms folded over his chest as he looked upon the abomination, corruption seeping from every pore.
Okor extended a single, steel-clad hand, the pestilence suffusing it only minimally expressed upon the surface.
”Okor Paleblood. Dean of…” He rasped, drawing poisonous breath into redundant lungs in a desperate attempt to stave off asphyxiation. ”Security for the Institute. I heard you had an Oathbreaker that… needed to be shattered in turn.”
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Magus - 02-29-2016
In a burst of light and a wave of nausea, the One Above All was thrust, stumbling, into the endless void of the Nexus. Magus was alive, and what was more, he could instantly feel the familiar buzz of black magic coalesce inside of him. The roar of the Black Wind came crashing in, too, howling loud. The cacophony nearly drowned out the actual noise around him, and a lesser, more experienced magister may have succumbed.
Magus, ever as always, was no such wizard. Though he had to close his eyes and blot out the world to retain his focus, soon, he was able to push through the violent howls of the Black Wind. Something horrid was coming. The Nexus would soon be host to great suffering.
No matter. The plight of a few Primes didn’t bother him, and the Secondaries were so far beneath his view as to not be accounted for in the slightest.
At the very least, a quick inspection showed that his wounds had all healed. Even his clothing had been restored. Refreshed and restored, Magus was back. Teucer be damned; he didn’t even care what had gone on after he’d been felled. He only hoped Crowley was still alive.
He struck out toward the Camelot gate. The ever-changing Fountain stood between the wizard and his destination, altering its shape and constitution even as he strode toward it. A simple red-brick fountain was soon replaced with an ornate, multi-tiered fountain, cascading water over what appeared to be solid sheaves of diamond.
If only the concept of scarcity meant anything in the Omniverse, the glittering stone would have made Magus unfathomably wealthy.
A group had massed itself near the Fountain, and every step he took toward them, the Black Wind grew stronger. The epicenter was here, then. One of these people seemed to be the focus of it, but there was an enormous amount of energy scattered here, clashing and swirling about like a burning fireworks factory.
A colossal, foul-smelling atrocity towered over a strikingly well-dressed, unsettling man. Though the enormous tin can looked – and smelled – much more obviously upsetting than the man in the suit and the sunglasses, something seemed odd about him.
There were others, too. A rudimentary machine zipped about, talking incessantly in a ferociously annoying voice. Whatever. The mobile noisemaker seemed preoccupied with some bizarre genetic abomination – an enormous worm-like creature with arms and legs.
There were others still, all much more unremarkable than the rest. A large man in what seemed to be plate mail and a billowing cape, some young and over-exuberant whelp, and a swordsman. And, he noticed, a man had positioned himself many paces off, using the Fountain as partial cover. He was hidden behind robes, but was undoubtedly watching the events as they happened.
Magus hummed to himself, contemplating his options. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t his problem. But then, the Black Wind had found a focal point in the well-heeled man. It swirled around him, tore against him, in a maelstrom. An unseen tornado stretched from him up into the expanse above.
He was the catalyst for whatever was to happen. Magus’ curiosity compelled him to at least find out why. His insatiable hunger for knowledge suddenly compelled him to move one foot in front of the other, until he was nearly standing between the two unnatural creatures. The horrible stench that emanated from the hulking monstrosity was utterly overwhelming from this distance, and Magus sustained an aura of translucent Shadeflame around him, simply to keep the wretched stench at bay. The ghostly tendrils of flame that lazily lilted from his frame were a nice addition to his entry, however.
The… thing… introduced itself as ‘Okor Paleblood’, of some organization called the ‘Institute’, and extended its diseased hand in offer of greeting to the balding man-in-the-suit, who regarded Okor from behind a pair of expensive designer sunglasses.
“Who are you?” Magus interrupted, addressing the less fragrant of the two. Okor swivelled his head toward the Demon King with the metal-on-ceramic shriek of worn and rusted joints. The horrible machination seemed to glare down at him while noxious fumes continued to pour from him.
Magus shot a quick glance to the staring colossus from the side of his eye, before finally turning to face him directly. “Do you see something you like? Or are you just trying to annoy me?”
The juggernaut rumbled its response, but took a step back, apparently indifferent to Magus’ caustic tone.
“I am… Smith,” the uncomfortable man responded, extending his hand to Magus, who pointedly refused to reciprocate, until the man who called himself Smith withdrew the gesture. “But if you didn’t know that already, then… why are you here?”
“You’re up to something. I wanted to see what.”
“Justice,” Smith responded, matter-of-factly. “I’m gathering some like-minded Primes to correct a great injustice. Soon, a man named Sasuke will appear here, and I intend to repay him for his betrayal in the Graveyard.”
Magus arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The pursuit of justice? The Black Wind nips at you like a vortex, and the only thing you care about is righting some personal injustice? You’re not even dead anymore,” Magus stifled a scoff. They were many and he was one, and all he wanted was to return to his business. “No matter. This place will run red with blood soon. You might see justice yet.”
The wizard continued on his path without another word.
“Artefacts,” Smith quipped. It was hardly much to go on, but it froze Magus in step as though he’d been struck with paralysis magic. Magus slowly turned back to Smith, crimson eyes burning into the black, mirrored voids where Smith’s eyes ought to have been. “The man I want to bring to justice… Sasuke, has… artefacts. I’m led to believe that these are items of great power in the Omniverse.”
“Why tell me this?” the wizard hissed.
“Some people aren’t as motivated by… altruism, as others. Some prefer more tangible rewards.”
“You’re saying you’ll give me an artefact if I help you.”
“Perhaps. This is a potential opportunity for an enterprising…”
“Wizard.”
“Wizard,” Smith responded. He’d have sounded more incredulous when he first arrived, but the Omniverse was hardly as predictable as the Matrix had been.
Magus narrowed his eyes. “Then, perhaps you have an ally. I’ll leave you to the trash can,” he gestured to Okor. “You let me know what you decide before this place goes to hell.”
The Demon King strode away from the crowd that had gathered, leaving the endless chatter behind. There, unfettered by the noise, Magus worked to channel some of his Omnilium. Soon, it stretched out before him, taking shape, and then texture.
He manifested a throne like the one he’d sat upon at his castle: a tall, wooden chair, topped with ornate spikes inscribed with runes of all types. The wooden spines spilled down along either side of the chair, swooping out and then back toward him, like wings, meant to shield him from any would-be assassin who might try to approach from behind.
Satisfied, Magus plopped down atop the comfortable cushions of the chair, positioned to watch the actions of Smith’s militia. He reclined lazily, resting his ankle on his knee and stretching out. He set about summoning a cold drink as he watched the events unfold.
Re: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Thaal Sinestro - 03-01-2016
The sweat clung at the loose layers of fabric that lay draped over the man’s red brow, the power of the sun beating down upon him with neither mercy or relent. The heat of the cobblestone below bent the light, forcing everything behind it to warp and twist. Still, he simply sat. He sat and watched as the merchants and beggars of Nippur wandered all around him, going about trying to rebuild their humble lives. Wrapped in the garb of a leper, he went uncared for and unnoticed.
How unafraid they were to whisper in the alley beside him, their voices collected and amplified by his ring. How bravely they collected themselves into cults dedicated to vengeance. How willfully they marched towards their own destruction.
It was hardly enough to trust the murmured promises and lies of street urchins, however. He had to push deeper.
Smoke rolled from the entrance of the hideout, the smoldering corpses of New Babylon’s supporters littered about the room. It hadn’t been so long ago that it had been filled with Nippur Freedom fighters. Sinestro sneered and stepped into the burnt crater of a room.
“Pitiful…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the frankly juvenile attempt to gather resources for a coup. His eyes fell upon the only thing that he might find useful: a computer terminal. He held his ring up to the screen and data began rolling down it, absorbed by the terabyte.
Images of their fearless leader during some strange, televised event, manuscripts of his involvement in activities surrounding Nippur. Much of it was second or third-hand information, but every lead carried the ring to another trove of data.
It seemed that the man was well recognized for his efforts in the city, and for his compelling run in Dante’s Abyss. It would be enough at least to know his face, if not where to find him. It would only be a matter of time.
-----
The stranger narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the collected group, and yellow flared behind his pupils.
The tall, alabaster mage threw himself into his summoned thrown and rested his hand on his cheek. He twirled his drink in his hand, the cool liquid rolling in lazy circles as he glared out at the motley collection of primes. His red eyes seemed to stab at everyone and everything around him, prying deeper than any of them wished they would.
There was an aura about the man, menacing and confident. He commanded attention when he desired it, and commanded respect with a glance. Fear blossomed from every heart he looked upon, the golden light of terror snaking in his path.
A similar power flowed from the stiff, stern man who he had come to know as Mr. Smith. It was more subdued, more tranquil, but the odor of fear rolled from his perfectly tailored suit jacket and dripped down from behind his glasses. He was a man who knew terror so well that he scarcely recognized it anymore. He came from a world of terror, and anything else must have seemed alien.
This was nothing to say of the rot-boned monstrosity that loomed over them all, his rotting flesh permeating every sensation with horrible fullness. To even gaze upon the being which called itself “Paleblood” wrung a man’s heart, squeezing from it all but the most staunch and stubborn will to live.
Amid the others, these three commanded the stranger’s attention. They reminded him the most of his own Corps, in that long-forgotten galaxy that he once called home. Yes, there was fear here. Certainly enough fear to use for his own purposes… but he could have more. Always more.
A golden glow illuminated the stranger behind the Fountain, and several heads turned to look upon him. Before any could speak, he gently lifted from the ground and took to bleached-white sky. He couldn’t help but sneer as several weapons flared to life below him, readying themselves against him. The rich yellow beacon grew around him until he gleamed like a star, reflections gleaming from him at every angle. His hands gently rose from his side, and a fist was formed beneath the ring.
Thrusting his ring towards the sky, a beam of yellow carved into the empty air above them before erupting into a massive symbol, the symbol of the Sinestro Corps. After another moment of silence, he gazed down upon his audience and glowered.
“If any here plan to stand against myself or those gathered, think again. Those who try to stop what is right will burn under our power until you are nothing but a half-thought memory.”
As if to prove his point, the skyline was once again devoured by yellow light, a nova surrounding the seeming beggar. As the blinding image slowly died, the silhouette within it changed. Instead of tattered rags, a slim bodysuit covered the Lantern, his yellow ring seething with untold energy.
“It is good to see so many have come!” he boomed, his voice amplified ten times over. “I am Thaal Sinestro, and I too have come to bring… order to this struggling universe.”
He drifted down from the sky, and he landed at the center of the congregation. His thin mustache curled as he smiled, and he folded his hands behind his back. “Sasuke is a dangerous man, from everything I’ve learned. The recordings that are available of him show quite an impressive collection of baubles, if nothing else,” he smirked and nodded to the lounging warlock, “but I saw nothing that warranted much of my respect.”
Once again holding his hand out, a transparent, yellow hologram of Sasuke’s participation flickered into view. Beside him, Gilgamesh stood, the two working together. “I have already dealt with his accomplice, seen here, but I am sure that the other backstabbing rodents that he acquainted himself with will be joining his side.”
The image flickered away, and was replaced with another. This one of the city of Nippur under siege. “Here is their base of operations, where they oppressed their vassals by the thousands. When myself and a strike team invaded the area, he was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he did not wish to lose control of their weapons.” He quirked his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Or perhaps he’s just a coward.”
The moving pictures of war fluttered away, and were replced with a shimmering cube. “This is a collection of all available data on Sasuke that I’ve been able to gather from his people and that is available on the dataverse. Feel free to peruse it with any data device so that we may begin to plan our attack accordingly.”
RE: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Moon - 03-02-2016
A flood of white took his vision, as he entered the expanse of white he'd grown so accustomed to over the few days he'd been here. But he knew that soon enough, it may become a destroyed husk of the former place of transit it had started. But he'd just realized it had become a bit frozen in time. Almost 20 minutes went by of mental bracing and driving, until he arrived at the motley crew of Primes this Smith character had brought together. The bike came to a stop, skidding against the ground for a few feet, kicking up the small quantity of dust there was.
And what a motley crew it was. So many odd figures were here. A diseased monster, a pink-faced man with a mustache, and a grossly well-dressed "man" caught his attention the most. Out of the dust stepped the hybrid man, still wearing his sunglasses from earlier. He slowly took them off, investigating the crew of Primes he was to team up with, against Sasuke and his crew. He spoke up, to say a simple thing.
"So. I heard you needed some help. Well, I'm here, I suppose."
RE: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Summer - 03-02-2016
“Wow! This is totally an interesting group!” Hatate couldn’t help herself from commenting, studying the group from a fair distance above them. It certainly wasn’t well-organized like she’d expected them to be. In her mind, maybe they would have like a common uniform or something, but there wasn’t any consistency to them. It was more like a lynch mob than an apprehension party.
The reporter’s eyes shifted back to her camera. The broadcast had said that it was several prime citizens, though, and neutral party at that. She should have expected something more ragtag like that. Then again, if the people involved were neutral citizens like the broadcast said, maybe it was something born out of a personal vendetta. Of course, it could also totally be that the subject in question was so dangerous that it was prompting unrelated people to come together. Which meant the only way to find out would be gather information.
Static filled her camera’s screen as Hatate focused on the accused’s name, Sasuke Uchida. The search return time for this particular query was much faster than before, turning up only two results in a few seconds. One from the public broadcast, and one from a comment on a bulletin. The reporter’s eyes darted back and forth as she scrolled down the bulletin, taking everything in.
So this justice mob was born of a grudge. This Sasuke Uchiha, not Uchida, had apparently betrayed a Smith in a cooperative alliance. The betrayal went as far as murder, though, not just chasing him off or injuring him. He was totally in the right to want justice. As a bonus, if what this “Thaal Sinestro” had to say held any weight, then the guy they were apprehending was like, really bad.
Satisfied with the information she had gathered, Hatate took off, shooting downwards, and landed heavily on the fringes of the group. She straightened up from her landing, balancing superhumanly on one foot, arms crossed in front of her, and camera at the ready. Her eyes darted from one figure to the next, taking them all in. For the most part, everyone was fairly normal, save for one small, engineered boxy guy, and a great big beast of a man who was way too smelly. It took quite a bit of willpower for the reporter to not make a comment on that.
“My name is Hatate Himekaidou, author of the Kakashi Spirit News!” the pink-clad tengu introduced herself brightly, not caring whether the name of her newspaper was well known or not. “Would you mind answering some questions?”
RE: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Dave Strider - 03-02-2016
Ryner glanced among those that had joined Smtih in his quest for justice. As he walked around he heard the mention of artefacts. Could it be possible that this realm had artefacts like those from the great heroes in his home world? Perhaps if he could get them and find Sion, he could help restore him, help bring him back from, wherever his mind had gone. Painful umages flashed in his mind as he bit his inner cheek.
"So what exactly is going on here? How did everyone find out about this place?"
Smith then turned to him. "For a man so adverse in magic you are not well versed with technology. You can use a Dataverse Device in order to contact others. Use some of your power to summon one if needed." He then took his leave to greet the others as they arrived, convincing them to join his cause. This guy could really start a rally...
FLASH
What the-
Rner was blinded for a second, as he raised his hand to shield his eyes, a small girl coming out of nowhere, babling on and shooting questions at him like it was some kind of lightning round in a game show.
"Hey! What the heck?"
“Would you mind answering some questions?”
Ryner scratched the back of his head. He didnt see any harm with talking with this pretty looking girl.
"Uh, sure! I dont think i know too much about what's going on but-"
"RRRRRRRRRRRYYYYNNNEERRRRRRR!!!!!!"
Uh. Oh. The Alpha Stigma froze, his mouth agape as he turned his head to the side, a bead of cold sweat falling down his forehead.
"F... F-Ferris?"
"BEWARE WOMAN OF THIS MANIPULATIVE PERVERT!"
" FERRIS SHE WAS JUST ASKING-"
THWACK.
The whole party watched as the mage was taken down in one swift movement. Twitching and stuttering with a large red bump on the side of his head.
"No need to thank me. I must keep this rampaging sex-addict in line before he goes feral."
"WHAT THE HELL FERRIS!?"
RE: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Illidan Stormrage - 03-04-2016
Jim's new robot friend was quite something. It was like having a Swiss army knife, but it was alive! Watching it generate a weapon from some sort of advanced alien technology was pretty rad; even though Jim's super suit boasted similar origins, he wasn't aware of any gun production facility inside it. In any case, he didn't need such an ability. His trusty plasma blaster was more gun than most people needed anyway.
"So, my metal plated chum ... I don't suppose you can make cupcakes? I haven't eaten anything since I got here, and all this white's making me hungry."
"I don't see how that makes sense, but OK! Uh ... cupcakes? I don't think Hyperion makes that model."
Jim rubbed at his chin. "I see. Well, I can't have you supplying me with your competitor's merchandise. As friends, that would be unethical."
With no food and nothing to blast, Jim felt his patience slipping. He folded his arms and tapped his foot, looking about the empty landscape. He grated his teeth, tapping his foot harder and faster, but it did nothing to stop the unbearable itch that ran down his body. His eye twitched in chorus with his fingers drumming his bicep, and soon he looked even more the freak show than normal.
"That's it! I can't take it anymore!" Jim said, throwing his hands in the air and marching over to Smith. "Hey! Didn't you promise us that there'd be some avenging to do?"
"Stay calm," Smith said in a low, passionless tone. "You will have a target for your ... blood lust soon enough."
"Well, I wouldn't call it blood lust, exactly," Jim said. "I just like to punch bad guys in the face."
"And your chance will come."
Jim raised an eyebrow. This Smith character was dark and mysterious, and didn't say much at all. Most enigmatic people he knew that dressed in impeccable suits were usually evil, and yet this one claimed a grievance against another. He shrugged. Maybe he was still brooding over his betrayal. Jim could understand that.
"Well, I hope it's soon. My trigger finger's getting antsy." He looked at his right index finger, reflexively bending. "And not figuratively, either."
Jim looked over the gang assembled at Mr. Smith's behest and decided he'd mingle a little more. After all, he and Claptrap got along like a house on fire. Surely there was someone else who'd love to ally with a giant worm in a super suit?
A glint of yellow stole his attention and he spotted a banana suited man with a pencil moustache. He had appeared earlier, heralded by a yellow nova of light, but Jim had thought he was simply hallucinating from all the white. Once he noticed other people talking to him, it made sense to introduce himself.
"Hello, fellow justice lover!" Jim said to the red skinned man. "I'm Earthworm Jim, Earth's most mighty invertebrate! Say, groovy ring! I don't suppose you have one in green, do you? That way it matches my eyes."
RE: Threat Elimination Protocols: Active - Okor - 03-04-2016
The gangrenous giant watched the impertinent sorcerer recline upon a throne of malevolent wood, the sheer number of protrusions adorning it almost qualifying it as a lethal weapon, denied only by its lack of mobility. One of the rare few functioning nerves left in his body twitched, a malformed eyebrow narrowing around his cyclopean eye as he saw the curved blade atop the staff the warlock wielded.
He could still remember his Gene-Father’s own blade. Silence. He had not dared to ask his Primarch why it was named as such, or from what dark place he pried it from. The bloody toll it had reaped, even before his Lord’s ascension, had ensured his place in legend, Mortation carved upon the pages of history in bloody letters. His own work on that dark day was a pale reflection, a- No. There was naught but shame and terror. This was a new day. Claws clenched as he looked over the vista of impending violence, laying eyes upon the gathered vigilantes. They were stern, disciplined, ready for-
It was at this point that one of the primes was battered over the head, a scabbard-clad blade slapping against a mop of unruly hair, leather pounding against a youthful skull. The sword-wielding amazonian figure towered above the cowering form of the youth he encountered during his time in that damned Graveyard. The fact that the victim did not seem to be overly damaged was a fact lost on the worm-ridden warrior, potent stimulants slipping into porous veins as he began to rise, hand eagerly racing for his blade and-
Laughter permeated the air as the valkyrie dragged her victim to his feet, Lyre (he had yet to place a proper name to that youthful face) still rubbing the welt on his temple. A shudder ran through his body, combat drugs stagnating in his system, with no immediate chance to release the fury induced. He could never understand mortals. They would brawl, scrap, and bicker, demeaning each other and forcing their friends into the dirt. For millennia, he had been forced to carefully cultivate his reputation, building up his identity as warriors with lifespans and memories of centuries judged him. To endanger the ego in such a way, to risk slipping into damnation and ignominy, was unthinkable.
The dying display of pyrotechnics, however, did not suggest a being with a deficit of ego. The voice was filled with power, resonating with the energy contained in what seemed to be a mere piece of jewellry. The theatricality surrounding his introduction was almost painful, the dramatized entrance and show of power a needless affectation. They were all Primes, were they not? Their power was beyond question, and the dismissive nature of this newcomer towards their prey was insulting. Primes were capable of anything, and to forget that was to invite misfortune. Children bent the fabric of reality around themselves, and wielded a blade with skill more akin to that of The Phoenician than a youth.
Speaking of children, a young mutant flitted around the group, a uniform of some description making allowances for the raven wings sprouting from their waist. A device of sorts was clutched in hands unsullied by labour, seemingly leading her through the crowd, in search of… something? It was only a few moments before they arrived at the ancient aggressor, chitinous carapace creaking as he loomed over the Tengu, baleful eye burning into her soul as a rusted vox burst into life, static quickly being replaced with his booming voice. “You had…” A cough interrupted him, a hacking rejection of the disease consuming him forcing a pause, bloody gobbets of his four lungs tainting his tongue. It was a brief moment before he resumed. “...Questions? Ask, and I will answer.”