The Dark Ages [Dark Data]

[Hiro Protagonist]

Hiro was easily the fastest of the three Liberators, his boots making little sign of his passing as he ran towards the screaming. His body felt electric, ready, tensed with potential energy like a coiled spring. He lost sight of Madotsuki as she went blurry and disappeared like a patch of haze, and the steady, loping footfalls of Okor's weighty armor beat out an advancing pattern that spelled doom for any who opposed them. 

-fwit-

The screams were coming from a village, thatch roofed cottages alight with demonic purple flames. Peasants clad in roughshod fabrics ran to and fro, chased by monsters of all kinds. Orcs, trolls, mercenaries wearing spiked leather, and strange demons. All shared one attribute, namely they pulsed with dark energy, visibly. With Hiro's high spectrum goggle vision, they resembled little more than violet spectres. He poured on the speed, determined to make an entrance and have this encounter spread across the rolling green hills of Camelot by word of mouth.

-SWISH-

"HHUUUOOORRRGGHHH!!" A Darkling orc raised his wicked weapon, a gnarled scimitar made to look like it was bone. Or actually made of bone. Pitchfork raised, family cowering behind him, a lone farmer stood against the wall of a burning hut, jabbing ineffectually at their attacker and his two minions, both glowing with purple corruption. "Back! Back, you monster! Foul abomination!" The man cried out desperately, fighting for his very existence. With a swift, cracking blow, the orc removed the head of the pitchfork and laughed. Deep and mucousy booms of nefarious intent accompanied the downward chop of his weapon.

Hay blew up from the ground as a blue and black blur interposed itself between the Darkling and his victim.

Then a wet meaty sound, and the orc fell onto his knees, headless, Hiro's katana outstretched and dripping with ichor as he paused, visible in all his technological glory. The suddenness of his appearance left both attackers and victims speechless and gawking. Lowering his head, the Digital Daimyo grinned. "Someone call for a rescue?"

Blades flashed, blood sprayed, and in the end, Hiro was left standing. He adjusted his goggles and looked back at the Secondaries he'd saved, waving them off. "Go. We'll handle this now." They nodded with fear and scrambled to leave the combat zone. The hacker drew his pistol in his off hand and crouched, watching as Okor charged into a corrupted man in armor, cracking his skull backwards with the butt of a rusted and glowing bolter, firing rounds into other targets and bellowing Nurgle's glory. "Fuckin' A, man. Let's get to it." Hiro muttered to himself, and dashed forward again, out of the visible light spectrum. The three Primes were holding their own quite handily against the darklings attacking the town, although as the hacker twisted out of the way of a dagger thrust and lopped off the offending limb, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was forgetting something.

Then that roar they'd heard earlier sounded again. Oh. Yeah. Right.