Kill the Numbers [Dark Data]

[Miranda Frost]

The whole thing was a setup, a trap. Who's to say that conquering the Ashen was even the true goal here? Miranda watched as the man who set them up made his escape. How infuriating it was for the true enemy elude them so. It was such a simple trap, yet Kuzu's unrelenting blood-lust could have possibly ensure their deaths.

 Miranda would cross her arms as her former adversaries became allies of necessity. It wasn't completely an annoyance. Miranda held high regard for the way the pair worked together. Seeing Kuzu getting stricken across his smug face was pure bonus. The pale woman smirked, the dark flames that flowed over her flickering before cutting out, before a message appeared over her vision.

DARKCHIP.EXE IS CORRUPT, TERMINATING PROCESS.

"Damn it", Miranda spat out, her claws digging into her arm to withdraw it. Upon examination it would seem the chip had burnt out, unable to be reused. Even the data that was left could not be scrapped together to produce the same effect once more. In short, the chip had lost its usefulness. Such an impulse of power had not left Miranda unscathed. Her prosthetic arms and legs were strained and her claws chipped in various places. The cybernetic networks throughout her body had run hot, which became apparent from the steam ebbing off of her body as the rain hammered down upon her. In the grand scale of things, Miranda could still fight at near optimal specifications. The damage done was annoying but not impossible to deal with.

 The dark chip had given the cyborg warrior a taste of overwhelming power and the euphoria it gave. The feeling was something she could become addicted to, but, unfortunately, she'd have to fall back onto something she hadn't used in some time.

 Her heads up display would scroll through her various subsystems until the descending tree of options came across her main power supply, the circuits that governed the distribution of power generated from the two crystals in her chest. All that was needed was to raise the limiters, giving her a tad more input of power throughout her body.

 She'd began stepping toward the charging hoards of darklings, their blades poised to strike. Something was awfully familiar about the whole ordeal. As her crimson, fire-like aura began to consume her she looked back on that day at Death Mountain. She remembered the hoards of dragons swooping down from the mountain to defend their mother from the Primes' assault. A cloud of red beasts, a symphony of gnashing fangs, and the light of raining fire filled the warrior's mind. Here was a similar scene, though these dragon-like creatures had something more human about them. They brandished their weapons and pounded against their armor pieces as they approached.

One by one, crimson wings of flame sprouted from her back, the six of them stretching out wide in warning as the hoard of dragonlings came ever closer. A burning halo would form above her head, completing the transformation. This day was all too similar to the Battle of Death Mountain, a day she swore would never relive. Yet here she was, facing a hoard of creatures with the same face as those of those dragons. They would pay for having her break her oath.

 The hoard would crash into her, enveloping her like a crimson tide. Their swords hammered against her cloak, but to no avail. She reached out grabbing on of the blades that struck out towards her face, shattering it within her palm with little effort. Her other hand would grasp at the dragonling's sword arm, her claws cutting pass the armor and flesh. She'd pull hard, swinging the  struggling body around as a make shift weapon, crashing him into the crowd around her. The surprised hoard gave space, realizing how little damage they were inflicting and rather circled her, their hungry eyes seeing nothing but stubborn prey in Miranda.

 "I've been here before, used to this kind of war. Crossfire grind through the ash.", she stated, lashing out towards a darkling that had gotten too close. It attempted to stab at her with its dagger but instead met her fist instead, the bladed fingers of her gauntlet cutting and crushing its face. Three more rushed to attack her from behind, but little did they know that the immediate group around her were all under her watchful gaze.  She ducked as they aimed to decapitate her and thrust her claws into their abdomen, slicing at their vulnerable  organs. 

 To the darklings, Miranda had became a tricky opponent.  Their obvious choices were to rush the angel of death and be obliterated or stay back and be erased by her fists.  Miranda however only had a limited amount of time before her transformation would dissipate.  Hopefully this glowing angel of war would draw much of their attention to her to allow escape.