06-10-2017, 08:58 PM
The entire world was falling apart. Chunks of the spherical world 'overhead' were falling out, tumbling in toward the center and breaking into pieces. Spikes and bursts of darkness and fire erupted at random from every surface, sometimes even from thin air. Flashes of purple and blue light crackled and spiraled through the space like lightning. The wailing of tortured, dying grunts and soldiers of Nebula, doing anything and everything they could to try and take down the fleeing group of Liberators with them.
Claws raked, spectral hands grasped, weapons slashed and barked their last. It was a dizzying display of color and sound, the entire, small world seeming to spin crazily out of control as the group hurried for the only exit. Huge, gaping pits sprawled out across the landscape, more and more of them cracking open as chunks of the ground fell away, or were ripped out to float lazily toward the center of the world. Sometimes they just ceased to be, breaking apart into digitized chunks and constructs.
In fits and spurts, the lingering traces of the nebula space's corruptive influence waxed and waned, the powers it disrupted growing stronger and weaker again. The entire place was unraveling, along with its power and influence. The warehouse they'd been dumped into loomed ahead, the walls crumbling and falling apart. The shattered, ruined corpse of the cyber-commander on his throne was still there, breaking apart and dissolving.
The Liberators headed for the portal, the thing sparking and crackling, wavering unsteadily and crazily like a light source about to lose its power. One after another, they piled through. All except for one.
The fusion of Dante and Desman felt a snag in their stride, stumbling and all but faceplanting at the sudden weight. Like a lead brick had been clamped around one ankle. Looking down, they saw why. The shattered remains of a cyberman. From the waist down, it was naught but a mess of wires and trails of oil and dark fluids. The left arm was blown off just above the elbow, half of its head was sheared off. Exposed wires sparked and fizzled from every join and crevice in what was left of its body. And yet still, somehow, it was alive, and the grip of its remaining arm was as tight as iron. "DE-DE-DE-DELEEEEEEE-LEEE-LEEE-EEEE-EEE-LEEEE-LEEEEETE!" it issued, voice skipping and stuttering. Sparks crackled and sputtered ominously along its crushing grip, but the weapon system was far too damage. The deadly electrical system wouldn't fire.
But the grip did enough. It slowed Desmante down for a few crucial seconds. Long enough for the entire world to flash purple, colors flashing in all the wrong hues. For a moment, everything seemed weightless. The world went black, stars danced in a myriad of colors, and Dante and Desman were hurled apart, a brief instant of complete lack of power breaking their fusion. The devil hunter and the robot both staggered back up, making for the portal. The cyberman pitifully dragged itself along on its lone, working limb, whether in pursuit of them or some desperate struggle to escape the collapsing world and survive. It only got a few feet before what was left of its head hit the ground and it went still.
Everything lurched again, with a noise like tearing sheet metal. Sparks flew, colors whirled and a smell like decaying meat filled the air. Hues of black, purple, blue, and green flashed in a nightmarish kaleidoscope and redcoat and robot both found themselves pitched off the ground, hurled toward the portal.
Back in Coruscant, the portal belched clouds of noxious smoke and fumes, tongues of fire and lightning spitting and belching from it, like some great beast going through its death throes. Dante came tumbling out, tumbling in an uneven sprawl, ass over teakettle. Scorched and blackened, but alive and whole. The same could not be same for Desman. With a last, pitiful puff of smoke, the portal winked shut with a dull, rumbling boom, and ejected a single, blue wheel, rolling along the barren warehouse floor.
Four out of five had survived.
Claws raked, spectral hands grasped, weapons slashed and barked their last. It was a dizzying display of color and sound, the entire, small world seeming to spin crazily out of control as the group hurried for the only exit. Huge, gaping pits sprawled out across the landscape, more and more of them cracking open as chunks of the ground fell away, or were ripped out to float lazily toward the center of the world. Sometimes they just ceased to be, breaking apart into digitized chunks and constructs.
In fits and spurts, the lingering traces of the nebula space's corruptive influence waxed and waned, the powers it disrupted growing stronger and weaker again. The entire place was unraveling, along with its power and influence. The warehouse they'd been dumped into loomed ahead, the walls crumbling and falling apart. The shattered, ruined corpse of the cyber-commander on his throne was still there, breaking apart and dissolving.
The Liberators headed for the portal, the thing sparking and crackling, wavering unsteadily and crazily like a light source about to lose its power. One after another, they piled through. All except for one.
The fusion of Dante and Desman felt a snag in their stride, stumbling and all but faceplanting at the sudden weight. Like a lead brick had been clamped around one ankle. Looking down, they saw why. The shattered remains of a cyberman. From the waist down, it was naught but a mess of wires and trails of oil and dark fluids. The left arm was blown off just above the elbow, half of its head was sheared off. Exposed wires sparked and fizzled from every join and crevice in what was left of its body. And yet still, somehow, it was alive, and the grip of its remaining arm was as tight as iron. "DE-DE-DE-DELEEEEEEE-LEEE-LEEE-EEEE-EEE-LEEEE-LEEEEETE!" it issued, voice skipping and stuttering. Sparks crackled and sputtered ominously along its crushing grip, but the weapon system was far too damage. The deadly electrical system wouldn't fire.
But the grip did enough. It slowed Desmante down for a few crucial seconds. Long enough for the entire world to flash purple, colors flashing in all the wrong hues. For a moment, everything seemed weightless. The world went black, stars danced in a myriad of colors, and Dante and Desman were hurled apart, a brief instant of complete lack of power breaking their fusion. The devil hunter and the robot both staggered back up, making for the portal. The cyberman pitifully dragged itself along on its lone, working limb, whether in pursuit of them or some desperate struggle to escape the collapsing world and survive. It only got a few feet before what was left of its head hit the ground and it went still.
Everything lurched again, with a noise like tearing sheet metal. Sparks flew, colors whirled and a smell like decaying meat filled the air. Hues of black, purple, blue, and green flashed in a nightmarish kaleidoscope and redcoat and robot both found themselves pitched off the ground, hurled toward the portal.
Back in Coruscant, the portal belched clouds of noxious smoke and fumes, tongues of fire and lightning spitting and belching from it, like some great beast going through its death throes. Dante came tumbling out, tumbling in an uneven sprawl, ass over teakettle. Scorched and blackened, but alive and whole. The same could not be same for Desman. With a last, pitiful puff of smoke, the portal winked shut with a dull, rumbling boom, and ejected a single, blue wheel, rolling along the barren warehouse floor.
Four out of five had survived.
Quote:MISSION COMPLETE! Nebula's operations in Coruscant have been shut down.
Desman has died in the escape.
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