Putting out the call

[Nebula]

It was worrying. The amount of reports he was receiving, lately, about the increasing number of sightings and recorded attacks that were reaching him. Perpetrated by individuals and creatures baring alarmingly similar traces to the darkness that he been present in that organization from his home.

Stood in his lab, before a control console and a bank of monitors occupying nearly the entirety of the wall he faced, he read over incoming reports and messages from his scouts and aides. Confirming sightings or the remains after an attack, confirmation of delivering messages and contacting various individuals who he had scouted personally that might be of help, passing on the news to anyone who might have inadvertantly been attacked, or come across the scene of an attack. Notes about reports made regarding the dangers of the dark substances left behind after such attacks.

But there was no sense worrying over that now. He had a project to finish, which was very nearly done. Something that should be of assistance in tracking and combating the darkness that Nebula was brewing in the Omniverse for anyone who answered the call to assist. In short order, he finished glancing over the remainder of  the reports, filing them away in both data and memory, before turning toward the more pressing matter.

He whirled around, striding away from his computers and retrieving an unmarked folder from a table, and into an elevator. It was a short ride, only a few seconds, up to a higher floor, at what most would call 'ground level' of Tier 2. It was the main floor of his lab, where anyone who was to come by and heed the warnings and requests for assistance of his aides would arrive.

Doctor Regal paced wearily, but swiftly through the halls, to the main lobby of the structure. He paused to leave directions with the robotic clerk there, to be passed on to the rest of the staff, of what was to come. Anyone who came in seeking an audience with him was to be directed to his work lab and meeting room in the back of the floor.

And then he was off again, moving swiftly. He flicked through the folder, looking over the papers and notes contained within. The formula for reinforcing the natural regenerative abilities and structural integrity inherent in all Primes, and for tracking down the particular darkness that Nebula's resources exuded. Powerful, imperfect formula, that likely wouldn't hold for very long.

He snapped the folder shut, reaching his work lab, and setting to work on inputting the programs and formula into the fruit of his research into opposing Nebula.

Hopefully it would be long enough, however.

This is the 'official' IC thread to start the saga. If you have the intention of visiting Dr. Regal to obtain further information about the situation, or to ask him any personal questions, make your way here. This thread will be open for such purposes until March 4th, at which point things will progress onward.

[Marisa Kirisame]

As Kigal walked with Chara right behind him, he took a sharp turn down a alley way; and then out of the said alley onto another major road to a fairly large building. Kigal took of his white glove and put his thumb on a scanner. A voice spoke greeting Kigal to the good doctors lab. The wall opened up to show a door. "oooo fancy!" Chara was having a freaking field trip with the tech. "Do you think I could look for information on souls?"

She walked past technology that the monsters would dream of getting there hands on. Kigal pointed to a room to the left. "that is where Doctor Regal is at the moment."

Chara sighed before looking at her knife like a mirror, and she sees a monster. "If people only see you as a monster, then why should I try to be good?" She stepped into the area only to instead of seeing a old man, in a white lab coat; instead this man was quite young and had a purple suit. "Uhh hi? didn't expect you to look like this. anyway I came to help, though if you don't mind that I murdered someone with a darkchip. Here you go" she took the rag and put it on the table, then decided to wait for others.

[Marisa Kirisame]

As Chara sat on the pristine marble floor; she flipped through her memory's carefully, like a librarian arranges there books. She came up in her mind's eye upon Frisk falling upon her grave, awaking her.

 time and area change to the underground, the start of the ruins 

Chara had fallen and had broken her leg. "mother fucker!" She yelled with a anger, that was only increased due to being in immense pain. As she babbled profanitys, like a sailor; a small goat creature creeped up on her. He walked out in the open, visibly shaking and asks. "h hey, are you ok?" Chara looked at the small goat and glared. "DOES IT? HUH, TELL ME!"

The smol goat said with more determination. "My, name is Asriel. You need medical attention' Asriel went to pick up Chara, but found it hard due to the fact that she was trying to slap him. "Woah calm down, tell me your name to start off with." Chara huffing at this point, looked at Asriel and started to speak. "My name is Chara, so what? You monsters will just kill me anyways."

Asriel stunned by the statement the human said. Monsters killing humans? "Well Chara I would like to help you, but I can't if you don't let me." Asriel looked worried for the young human, if she didn't let him help her, she could die soon. Chara crossed her arms and muttered to let him help her.

Asriel had carried Chara to his home, to the surprise and worried expression of his mother. "Oh my, what a poor unfortunate child. They are lucky to have survived the fall, from that distance. Bring them to me so I get them something to eat." Chara was soon placed at the table with a piece of pie on a plate in front of her. "uhh, is this for me?" Chara gave a distrustful gaze, as the humans in her village had tried many times to kill her.

Toriel gave a mothers smile and softly spoke "Its fine, we wont hurt you. If you want I can give you books to read?" Toriel walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out a book before putting it on the dining table. Chara took the fork and eat a piece of the pie, her eyes widened at how good it was. The pie was just sweet enough, but had a slight tang to it that would make most chefs, jealous of this woman's skill.

"it's good right, Chara?" Asriel said with a smirk. The fallen child looked at Asriel with a look of joy. "Good? This is the best thing I have ever tasted promise." After that she dug into the rest of the piece of Butter scotch pie. After that Chara and Asriel became best friends, and who knows they could of been more than that if, the plan didn't get in the way.

 Back in Dr. Regal's lab 

As Chara shook her head, she could be heard crying faintly for her brother. "asriel, im sorry, I tried to free all of you and what I did just made it worse." She remembered every monster Frisk, and to an extent Chara had killed. There face's of fear and hatred to the last child fulfilling the prophecy in a dark way. She shook with fear of herself, as her soul pulsed weakly in its shattered form as pure determination dripped off of it. "there can be only one soul of Determination, my ass Gaster. Tell my why i'm here then?" She reached for her knife but stopped right before pulling it out of its sheath. "Im a glitch, and nothing more, nothing less. Unlike Frisk who is loved by all, i'm just a faded memory and should not be here."

[Simon]

13th Avenue had seen better days. Normally bristling with quiet life, traffic, and shining neon signs, the lane and everything that flanked it found itself struck with an oppressive darkness. Streetlights and traffic indicators were left crooked and sparking with vain efforts to be lit. The bright signs and advertisements occasionally flickered up, shedding mere moments of disparaged light before being choked into naught again. The only vehicles not deliberately parked (legally or otherwise) instead strewed themselves haphazardly on the road like discarded toys of a chaotic force- save for one.

An unmarked gray van pulled in from around the corner of 13th and Strato Road. The driver swerved around an up-ended hover car before screeching to a halt, diagonal to the road. Not a moment later, the back doors burst open to either side, a half-dozen humanoids pouring out from the rear. Each of them were garbed head-to-foot in protective black padding, reminiscent of a modern assault troop, and equipped with arm-length ranged weapons lined with glowing veins.

"Obsidian here, we're at the site," The co-pilot bleated through the dashboard radio. "We're moving in, prepared to engage."

"Gotcha, 'oud 'n' clear," replied the gravely voice, his tone made even less comprehensible through the grubby radio connection. It wasn't usually this terrible, Obsidian wondered. "Le's get this done 'fore th' Stormtroopers 'rrive."

The co-pilot twisted a dial counter-clockwise on the radio panel until the readout spelled "Ch. 8," then clicked the speaker. "Everyone ready? We're gonna find these punks, take 'em out, and get out before anyone thinks twice. Spread out and flank, corner them in the old building at the end of the street. Shoot on sight, shoot to kill."

Obsidian was met with a half-dozen affirmations from the uniformed men, before their split off into a pair of three-men teams. They each stuck fast to either edge of the sidewalk, moving between the different vehicles for cover. Obsidian and his driver remained in the van, watching closely. The silence was palpable, and terribly strange- as if the darkness had sucked out all the life and sound from this street.

They wouldn't be left wondering for long, though. One of the troops made contact, firing at the sight of a strange robot lurching out from behind a parked sedan. A flash of green lanced out and burst upon a violet metal carapace, and the digital droid lurched back in apparent pain. Several more shots followed suit, the scream of hot blasters echoing down the deathly grounds of the road. The machine absorbed every shot, scorching black smears coating its formerly polished hull. At two different points, the outer shell of the robot had been breached from concentrated fire, where it leaked a grueling black liquid as blood from an open wound.

No sooner had the thing faltered, though, than did it steel itself and recover its footing. The way the machine moved, how its limbs seemed to sway with an unnatural grace, generated a fair amount of unnerve between the squad of humanoids that had just pelted the thing. Obsidian would have none of it.

"What are you lot waiting for?" The commander barked into the radio speaker, his harsh grip threatening the integrity of the plastic shell. "Let 'im have it! Don't stop 'til there's nothing but scraps-!"

The rising cacophony of laser blasts quickly drained the clarity out of Obsidian's orders, and became the only noise traveling through the ominous street. Sparks and streaks of stray energy spattered off of the black-oozing hull of the machine, causing frequent flinching throughout the creature's movements. Despite the more intense payload, however, the offending robot seemed almost entirely unfazed by the attacks.

One of the soldiers found themselves startled by a gurgling cry behind him. He faltered in his assault to glance backward along the car he had been flattened against, to find the face of not his ally, but an identical robotic foe. A clawed arm had gashed open the soldier's jew, tearing through the protective mask like paper. Streams of disgusting dark red body liquids dripped all over, spattering over their armor and the asphalt. Finally finding the guts to say anything at all, the startled soldier cried out, "Rod! Damn, there's another one-!" Rod's half of the squad, now basically two men at this point, whirled about to lay into the destructive machine, but not even point-blank seemed to push it back.

As if the revelation shot new life into the first battered robot, the darkling stopped after a last stride. With only mild delay, it shoved one pair of iron claws into the rear car door of the nearby sedan, twisting its upper body to tear the door from its hinges with a sickening shred of metal. The squad's lasers now only found purchase against the fine leather siding and reinforced glass of the makeshift shield, much to their ire.

"What the hell is going on!?" Obsidian roared, sneering over the severe lack of progress present through the windshield. "How did you get sideswiped? Why are those stupid droids still standing? What is wrong with you dumb-?!"

The co-pilot never got the opportunity to finish, as the driver patted him hurriedly on the shoulder. An imposing form stomped up into the back of the van, the lights of the city behind them turning the robot into a deathly silhouette with scarlet eyes. "Fucking hell-!" Obsidian recoiled, dropping the radio and reaching for the door handle. Much to their horror, however, the corrupt machine lunged forward, a wicked hand punching right through the driver's seat and the driver himself in a single motion. Obsidian was already tumbling out of the shotgun door, on the verge of soiling himself as the witnessed the impaled Quarian caught in a soundless, choking scream.

Needless to say, the plan had gone to the gutter with a one-way ticket.



Rod spat out another glob of blood, complete with a chunk of tooth, as his vision attempted to stabilize. His murky vision met with the sight of his Klingon friend, Koh'rax, in a much more sorry state. The alien's chest was torn open, the riot vest having done woefully little to obstruct the wrath of the darkling's claws. Rod's eyes widened as he began to detail the full scale of the damage, and he suddenly felt very sick.

The gang soldier scooted back on the cold, unwelcoming pavement. At one point, the objective could not have been more clear- their little district-based "police" force was to ride in, shoot up the bastards wrecking this part of town, then leave. That should have been easy, and yet there they lay, massacred brutally. Jame looked particularly unlucky, pinned to the smoldering radiator of their service van with the sharp end of a sedan door. One of their mates had been so facially scarred than even Rod's half-elf eyes couldn't determined who the poor victim could be.

Not that the last survivor of them had the time to do it anyways, with two robots approaching him. Both were heavily scarred by the scourge of battle, entire chunks of their poison-colored armor torn away to reveal the undying machinery underneath. That liquid darkness poured from every edged and crack of their shell, dripping onto the pavement. Yet, Rod could tell it could not be oil- it seemed too viscous, too alive to be any sort of fuel, fossil or otherwise. For only a fleeting moment on death's doorstep, the soldier had to wonder what it could be...

An adamant hand latched onto Rod's shoulder, unreal strength pulling the half-elf upright. The poor victim felt so awash with shock that he could not managed any sort of retaliation, or even response. He could merely stare blankly, bloodshot eyes spread to the size of tea saucers at what he saw.

Rod's gaze turned to the darkling's hand, for despite being undamaged, it too dripped that black matter from its fingertips. He barely registered where the clawed hand was going until it gutted him, a single thrust plunging those finger into his midsection. The soldier lurched, heaving up another bit of phlegm and blood, his shattered jaw unable to properly release his cry of anguish. That darkness, he could it feel it, seeming through his worthless body like venom, numbing his life and replacing it with another.

It would not be long until he was just another one of them.

The first of the Heel Navis, battered but still very much in one piece, looked to the shop at the end of the street. With a rainbow shimmer, the saucy neon lights of a cursive sign wove themselves into being. The lights flickered and pulsing before finally coming to focus: the tell-tale header of Devil May Cry, joined aside the outline of a long-haired woman toting a pair of handguns. A guttural noise trilled from the darkling, something between a groan and a growl.

"One more..."

[Simon]

The tell-tale ding-a-ling of the bell positioned over the door snapped Dante from his concentration. One of the leather couches he had been trying to improve on the left side fizzled and shimmered, before finally dissipating a puff of prismatic substance. He sighed, bringing up his left hand to rub at his tired eyelids. Dante hadn't quite fallen asleep, but his sort of meditative trance undoubtedly warped his concentration, much less his sense of time. What time was it, anyway? The devil hunter groggily looked to the analog clock over the rim of the entrace, but after a few moments of the second hand not moving, he gave up.

"Well, now," Dante's vision panned down, sizing up his new visitors, "I don't suppose you're a customer?" From past the rugged polish of his boots on the desk, the red-coat could see three humanoid shapes- a well worn robot with a bulky purple casing, flanked by two lanky navy-blue 'bots adorned with literal spikes. All of them appeared to be well-acquainted with combat, but none of them looked the type that might need the services of someone like Dante.

Which could only mean they were here on their own business. Ugh, no thanks.

"Sorry, but we're not open yet. You'll have to come back tomorrow," The devil hunter jabbed verbally, managing to hide the sneer that would typically come with such a dismissive tone. Predictably enough, none of them were fazed by this- with their eyes looking to be permanently built into those unimpressed empty stares, they could probably never look fazed.

"You," The violet robot, presumably the leader of this little dispatch squad, stepped forward with a whirring clank. It spoke, with more definition and an ambiguously male voice- though still very artificial. "You are a Prime, yes? One chosen by Omni?"

Dante's sigh could only managed to be one step away from an exasperated groan. What gave it away this time, he wondered? "And where'd you get that idea, huh?" The devil hunter retorted, his words laced with his sardonic brand of venom.

The machine did not answer, taking only another step forward. The planking of the shop creaked under the rigorous steel footing. "I understand you are here against your will," it began to prattle off, "And so I come with an opportunity to give you what you deserve." To the maker's credit, there was some amount of effort to make the voice sound genuine, but it still might as well have been a recording. Especially so, considering no effort was made to even acknowledge Dante's own response. "The chance to become a part of something greater," it continued, stepping aside Dante's footrest of a desk.

The devil hunter rolled his eyes, very obviously not giving the missionary any attention. "Never cared much for the possessive types. I'll pass."

A servo-laced palm collided with the desk, but Dante did not budge. "You will not refuse. You cannot," The oversized toaster groaned out with more force, as if something set his dial from brown to black. "We can help you make this world rightfully ours."

Dante couldn't help but get a little impatient, and it was starting to show. When were they going to cut to just taking him by force, as the villains always did? That brand of persuasion, he could deal with. "Well-" Dante trilled, letting the syllable hang on his tongue sarcastically, "If that big face of yours can also bake pizza, then I might be interested."

He looked face-to-face with the missionary machine properly, donning a devilish smirk. "Because I know for sure you're just talking out your rear-end, buddy."

Unfortunately, Dante's masterful strategy had been initially banking on the leader attacking first. Instead, with just a flash of those yellow eye-slits, both of the lanky machines at the door lunged forward and lashed out. They weren't fast enough to seize Dante before he kicked off the desk, flipping heels-over-head as a pair of fists smashed the old wood down the middle.

His boots met the wall first, and as Dante's weight followed, he bent his legs and kicked off the wall. With stylish fervor, the half-devil plunged both feet forward and into the steely face of a now-fittingly-named Heel Navi. Dante's flying dropkick flopped to a stop on the ruins of his desk, and he whipped out his pistols to meet the robot he didn't just send flying. A shot from Ivory under that boxy chin sent the Navi belting back before it could wind up another blow. With a moment to spare, the devil hunter lurched his back forward to sit upright, the quick pickup managing to narrowly avoid the leader's own overhead attack.

Dante straightened out upright, flashing his guns in opposite directions. Ebony towards the door where the first spike-bot had taken a spill, and Ivory at the two robots sprawled over the remains of his work station. The violet droid yanked his energy broadsword from its pedestal of scorching antique woodwork, meeting Dante's gaze. The half-human hadn't changed his expression, still wearing that demonic smirk.

"I should apologize for my companions," The robot spoke again, his forearm now brandishing the dark-fueled weapon that temporarily replaced his right hand. "They are drunk with power, so little sense left in them. They are not nearly as forgiving as the rest of us."

The devil hunter laughed- a single, sharp scoff at the disc-head's excuse for politeness. He waved Ivory at the destroyed timbers under the robot's feet. "What, and that's supposed to excuse all the damage you just did?"

"All superficial." Another flash of the machine's eyes, and his two allies stood up right quick, faces glaring with their respective newfound damage. "In time, everything shall be broken down- and remade, in the image of Nebula."

Dante's own glare intensified, his eyes alight with inner power. "Don't bet on it."

[Jim Raynor]

The doors slid open soundlessly. A wave of cooled air flooded over Jim's face and into his suit. "Ah, that's the stuff. I wish Swann'd hurry up and fix the air-con in this thing."
 
Raynor ducked as he entered the foyer of the building. As he predicted, the journey had been longer than a Mar Sara summer. The traipsing back through the desert, through Carrefore where he was given dirty looks once more, and through the gate ... only to march back through the cornea-searing white of the Nexus to the Coruscant gate, then through what was known as Tier 1, all opulence and surveillance, before reaching Tier 2 and plodding all the way to the building ... it had been exhausting.
 
Jim climbed out of his CMC-400 armour, concerned that he may be seen as a threat if he continued to amble about in it, and approached the front counter of the foyer.
 
"Good day sir, how may I help you?" the robotic receptionist said.
 
"Uh, hi. The name's Jim Raynor. A Doctor Regal sent for me, said he had somethin' to discuss?"
 
"Ah, you must be here about the Nebula organisation. Is that correct?"
 
Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, pretty sure that was mentioned in the message."
 
"Excellent, Mister Raynor. There is a laboratory in the back where Doctor Regal will receive you." The robot stood from its chair. "Please follow me."
 
Jim did as he was asked, following the automaton through sliding doors in the back of the foyer and through a number of hallways. Soon enough they arrived at another room. The door skipped open easily over the tiles.
 
"Please wait here for Doctor Regal's arrival. He will not be long."

[Simon]

Only a brief, terse moment passed between the three versus the one, before the battle began. The Heel Navi at the door, boot-prints laced across his metallic guise, rushed forward with angry red claws generated from his hands. The attack was met from the opposite side from the leader, his energy-cast blade clashing against the furious mitt with a splash of plasmic sparks. Having deftly rolled out of the way, Dante crossed Ebony and Ivory sideways and pumped a small hail of bullet into the pair. Holes punched open on the pair, blips of odd black substances dripping out but provoking no pained reaction from either machine.

The third Navi held its ground and reached out, the arm on display distorting with packet flashes and raw data made manifest. From the forearm down, the metal broke down on a minuscule level to be digitally rearranged into the barrel of an imposing cannon within moments. With the pull of some invisible trigger, the darkling's weapon violently discharged a roaring blast in Dante's direction- however, the devil hunter already could be found leaping up in evasion. The window-shattering impact of the projectile erupting while he remained in hang-time, flak and glass dispersing ineffectually through the room.

Dante quickly righted his flipping jump and came down hard with Rebellion, swinging a deadly overhead cut that very nearly split the corrupt program's steel skull. The spindly body buckled under the force of the blow, mashing the Navi's head between the cracking floor and the harsh edge of Dante's blade.

The casing from the artillery-grade cannon shell hit the ground, and the violet Darkling lashed out again. The energy weapon projected itself in size, wildly spewing untamed plasma as it grew to the proportions of Rebellion. The two swords met each other for just a moment, with Dante's superior strength deflecting the swing. The other Heel Navi covered the ensuing exposure, but the devil hunter and his demonic sword held fast against the wild repeating strikes of the deranged robot.

The son of Sparda smirked, a short breath snorting from his nostrils. This lot still couldn't manage to be more than fodder.

As the machine wound up another swing, Dante threw the thing off-balance with a boot to the chest, leaning forward and leveraging it into a vertical kick. With another footprint added to the budding repertoire, the Navi flew back, away from the back-flipping form of the devil hunter and over the evasive movements of his commander.

The leading Darkling cycled through his chips to switch up the pace, but Dante had his own change in mind. He planted a silenting heel on the floored Navi, then kicked off with the other foot, surfing the body over the scuffed plank floor. The startled machine didn't have time to attack proper as the red-coat ducked forward under its rapidly-forming spearhead. With the second minion recoiling from his impact on the far wall, Dante kick-flipped off the screeching iron body board. Both of the Darklings crashed together, the dented spike-head grinding into the scuffed torso as the momentum send them both into the corner of the lobby in a heap.

A whoop of delight escaped the son of Sparda as he landed on the trail of wood tarnish wood he had formed, followed by a taunting laugh as he straightened out. "Get outta here!" He taunted, waving off the dummy machines with one arm and sheathing Rebellion behind his back with the other.

With a whir and a stomp, the leader behind Dante's view whirled around to drive home one of his his newly spiraled drill arms. The red-coat remained one step ahead, overhearing the obvious noises of the incoming attack and sidestepping the charging blow. A second drill launched an upward stab for the ribs, but this too was avoided with rapid reflexes. The Heel Navi lurched into a messy assault of flying jabs, which Dante humored with cool-headed dodges. That is, until the seventh attack or so, where he deliberately parried the incoming industrial tool with a flash of crimson-veined gauntlets and a determined glare.

Gilgamesh's fists found much more purchase than the Navi could've hoped for, devil-steel knuckles crunching into the inferior infected metal. A single punch dented the flat-headed program and crushed one vision sensor until the tinkle of glass. A following punch rolled into the robot's undercarriage, between the violet plates of its shell, and ground into the skeletal wiring within. Dante relented with his arms, placing weight and direction on his forward foot; in this stance, he spun around and delivered a buzzsaw-laced roundhouse across the bulky breastplate of the shocked Navi.

As the Darkling staggered back to the tune of groaning machinations and dissipating data, Dante landed in a bouncing stance. Credit where due, these mindless drones at least knew how to take a hit or several. With this in mind, the son of Sparda found himself quite fortunate his summoning spree included amassing a fair bit more firepower for himself. Reaching under his coat, Gilgamesh's hands grasped around the grip of his shotgun, yanking the firearm free.

With a pull of the trigger, the Terminator's extreme report annihilated the Darkling leader's torso. The shrill sound of shrapnel tearing apart the metallic armor filled the shop, alongside the scattering pieces of the Navi's upper half. It would've fallen to the floor, had the force from the shotgun not propelled the deserving bastard into the right-hand wall under the stairs. Dante pulled off another sweet-ass spinning reload of the shotgun, spinning about on his heels to meet the two remaining bastards. The sound of two agonizing robots pulling each-other apart finally came to a closing, replaced by a faint whirr of something outside - and then the bark of a 10-gauge shell.

Having gone through enough punishment already, the roughed-up punk head of the Heel Navi practically exploded, creating a fireworks display of metal fragmentation and disgusting ichor. Hardly fettered by even its own bleeding heart-core, the robot shoved aside the fresh carcass of its fellow brainless ally and stepped forward, one foot at a time. The particles of data projecting from his hand began to assemble into a pick axe, moaning on like an unstoppable murderer in the face of a reloading shotgun.

There was a certain amount of irony to it, Dante would realize later.

Before either of them could act, that whir grew into a dull roar, then into a sputtering growl. The windows of the shop suddenly began to shine light into the desolated room, blocking out the darkness that had hung over the shop for the entire time so far. That damned noise became all too tell-tale for Dante, and he began to preemptively wonder why this sort of stuff kept happening to him and his shop.

He only had mere moments to do so, before the power of 400 horses and industrial framework tore through the prohibition-grade construction of the shop.

The unmarked gray van barreled through the double doors, bursting through the frame and slamming grille-first into the back wall with a devastating crash. The scorching tires ground down to a stop, adding to the mess of destructive tracks on the creaking wooden floor. It would be safe to say that, with the smoldering engine crushed between the flattened corpse of a Heel Navi and halfway through a plastered wall, this van wouldn't be going anywhere else on its own. Not that the Nebula-converted driver would care, considering that his face was now painted all over what was left of both the wall and the windshield before it.

[Summer]

“I guess this is the place?” Somerled mumbled to himself, eyes darting between the building towering in front of him and the map in his hand. True to what the rest of Coruscant had been, it was quite a piece of modern architecture, all shiny and steel and very sore on the eyes. The monster averted his gaze skyward, rolling up the map in his left hand and shoving it back into a his coat pocket. Aside from the modernity everywhere, he’d have to say this “Tier 2” was much better than “Tier 1” had been. 

Here, at least, they didn’t even give an effort to pretend and control the weather. Instead, a poor facsimile stood in the sky, giving yet another illusion of a nice day. However, unlike the other one which was open air, this one was obviously closed off from the atmosphere. Anyone who had his sort of meteorological instinct would be able to immediately discern it from actual weather. Not that his power gave him any real advantage in this sense because it was also plainly obvious from the fucking roof over their heads. Presumably the base of the higher city if his elevator trip down had provided any clue.

The storm spirit’s gaze fell again, eyes focusing on the lab in front of him. While knowing the state of the weather was all well and good, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Glass and aluminum slid to the side as he took a step forward, automatic doors giving way as soon as they detected motion. His foot hesitated just before the next step, the spirit pausing for a moment before quickly pressing on.

Harsh, electric lights assaulted Somerled’s eyes as he stepped onto the tiled floor, door sliding closed behind him. Doing his best not to squint, the monster continued to amble forward towards what he assumed was a reception desk, though currently devoid of any staffing. A vague uncertainty stirred up in the back of his mind, perhaps they were closed? But why at noon of all times? He pushed the anxiety back out of his mind in a hurry. If they had been closed then the door would have been locked, he reasoned as he leaned up against the counter. His eyes scanned across the hard, glassy surface, searching for a bell or anything of the like that could be used to announce his presence. If push came to shove though he could always conjure up some lightning...

“Don’t even think about it,” his voice, hijacked by his other half, interrupted his mental rambling. The storm spirit mumbled something incoherent in response, mouth falling into a frown.

“My apologies for the wait,” an electronic voice suddenly spoke up, sending a rush of adrenaline through Somerled’s body. In a moment the spirit was standing straight up, body swiveling to face the newcomer. “May I help you?”

“Er...” he hesitated for a second, stumbling over the words he hadn’t even attempted to say yet, completely taken aback by the robot receptionist. “Um... Yes, I’m uh,” he cleared his throat with a quick, awkward cough. His posture was incredibly lax and uncertain, as he had no idea how to act around something that couldn’t be eaten or intimidated. “I’m here for a Dr. Regal. Uh, Somerled Murdoch’s the name if you have a list or something.”

“And your reason for the visit?” the robot prompted, its mechanical glare fixed on the youkai’s eyes.

“Something concerning ‘Nebula’ if the note given to me was anything to go by,” he responded, fidgeting awkwardly. At this point he seriously regretted giving the messenger his message back.

“Right this way then, sir,” the mechanical being turned and headed away through another set of automatic sliding doors, and Somerled followed. Before long, he had been lead to a small room, the receptionist beckoning him through the door and going on its merry way. The spirit spared a quick glance towards the other two occupants, presumably also called in by Regal, before plopping himself in one of the chairs provided and setting to work healing his fractured right hand. Hopefully he had enough time to get it up and running again...

[Madotsuki]

Madotsuki never thought she'd reencounter the monstrous albino this soon-- especially as allies. Over time it appeared that Rust and the Gear Grinders had grown to tolerate each other. The dreamer wasn't sure why, but maybe saving Errol had something to do with it-- after all, the baku could be considered an honorary Gear Grinder thanks to her efforts.

Currently her, Sabitsuki, Madeline and Rush were barreling down the streets of Tier 6 in a black convertible that Crusher had let them use. Normally they would've looked for a truck for this kind of job, but since Nico fixed the teleporter, they didn't have to carry everything back. It wasn't a necessarily complicated job; a rival gang had holed up in a factory not too far off, and they were stockpiling supplies. Driving them out would net them quite a pretty penny from selling their supplies, as well as send a message to the gang leader to back off.

They continued with their tinted windows rolled down  under the silence that night gave for several minutes until they finally arrived at their destination. Rush paused to pull something out from the glove compartment, tossing it to Madeline. She caught it clumsily, fumbling with the object for a few moments before finally getting a grip on it and revealing it to be a laser gun. The raven-haired boy pulled another one out and cocked it, turning to glance at the two without guns. "You sure you don't need a gun?"

"My pipe is all I need," Sabitsuki said, rubbing her palm against the rust-and-blood-covered surface.

'You know I don't need a gun to have some range,' the half-baku replied telepathically, staring out the window even though nothing could be seen through it.

Rush chuckled. "All right then, ladies." Kicking the door open, he rolled out and opened the passenger door. "You guys know what to do, right?"

"Mado'll do her ghost thing and bring us in," the brunette answered.

"Then we bash some heads in before setting up the teleporter!" Sabitsuki added, hopping out of the car and following Rush. Madeline left next, running to catch up with them. The dreamer left last, phasing through the door instead of opening it or leaving through the opposite side. She didn't bother to catch up, rather choosing to watch their back as they marched up to the factory. Warehouses lined the way to the entrance, but nothing indicated that the establishment was in use-- there was no sound of the construction belts, nor were the lights on.

Even stranger: the door had been ripped off its hinges.

[Simon]

From his spread-eagle hanging position on the banisters, Dante started down into the remains of his shop. Man, he'd been through wrecked offices and vehicle crashes before, but an entire van ramming through the front door was one for the books. That is to say, the hypothetical "Book of Things That Really Get on My Nerves". Ugh, seriously, what a pain.

The right-side cabin door met with the vigorous foot of a jet-black humanoid, practically booting the door off its hinges. The ex-commander slipped out of the shotgun seat and looked around the ruined building for signs of life, barely missing the one on the ceiling. The man pulled out a futuristic-looking handgun with one hand, and a small radio with the other, then stepped forward to examine one of the bodies more closely. Despite a stern glare and one or two pokes from his pistol, the decapitated body of the robotic Darkling offered nothing more than a leaking trail of tar-like substance.

Having found no satisfactory fruit, the husk of Obsidian gripped the radio tight and barked into it, "Get in here. We're gonna find this bastard and bring him in, you copy?!" The multiple plodding for several more sets of boots came from out the smashed doorway in response. Dante got the impression this fight would call for a fair bit more firepower...

One by one, a squad of six dark-touched infantry scrambled inside, fanning out around the crashed van to look for their target. The devil hunter didn't leave them waiting, and pounced on the last one of them to enter the building. His fall from the banisters landed on the alien shoulders, telescoping the Krogan's legs and sending his face into the hard wooden ground. Everyone else took notice, and then took aim, but Dante already sent himself on the move.

A dashing stab with the sword sent a grisly-faced Klingon reeling back, his torn vest offering little protection against the forceful blow. Dante dove after him, seeking cover behind the van from at least half of the Darkling squad, leaving him only at the mercy of one other standing soldier taking aim. The son of Sparda would be too quick for one man's blaster fire to do any more than graze him. The devil hunter swept from side to side, goading out several vain potshots from the infected soldier, and then retaliated with the business end of his shotgun and a ten-gauge shell to the torso.

Unlike the robots, the ballistic padding these Darklings wore when they had been converted seemed to take the damage much better, even if the force sent the victim careening into the stairs with a crash. That would be a tough problem to nip in the bud, Dante thought, as the rest of his problems either dragged themselves back up or came in from around the corner. The half-devil back-flipped onto the roof of the van, where three smoldering holes in the side became about a dozen thanks to the backup. Dante quickly flattened himself on the pale metal of the roof, earning a moment of reprise from the enemy fire.

As the squad below quickly set about trying to get a better vantage point (all to the tune of that loud-mouthed commander), the red-coat tucked away his sword and shotgun, to set about gathering up a more fitting weapon. Hopefully he could finish before one of the soldiers got a view on him. "Someone, get on the balcony!" Came the next order, but luckily enough, that last blast from Terminator resulted in a a dazed half-elf body being run through the lower half of the stairs. The son of Sparda managed to get all the time he needed, and then some more.

Only just a bit more, however. The soldier team's next effort would be to turn the van lopsided, as revealed by the shrill command of, "Blow out the tires, tilt it over!" As he heard those words, Dante rolled off the opposite side of the roof with his new tool around his arm. The sound of several laser blasts came not a moment later, followed by the two sharp blasts of the pressurized tires exploding.

As their efforts were revealed for naught, the half-devil reared up, took aim with the bio-weapon, and fired. The draining yet satisfying burst of a purple-green ray erupted from Nightmare-β, shooting diagonally to the ceiling only to rebound off the surface. A reverberating cry of pain and surprise indicated the shot had met its mark and would not bounce again.

The commander scowled over the shot down Synth, the blast having scorched his shadowy armor and shaded flesh into a single vibrant wound. As the other three damaged men were pulled back into action, the leader cried out, "Dammit, move in and get him already-!" The two untouched soldiers doubled back and pressed on, covered by the shaky-looking Krogan trooper behind them. No sooner had they turned the corner of the van than did they find themselves on the receiving end of another laser arrow, the shot scoring one of the two dead in the chest. Dante exhaled a strained breath as the yet unhurt Romulan let loose a barrage of his own weapon in Dante's direction.

Much as he hated to say it, this whole situation was starting to get a bit too crowded for the son of Sparda to deal with in a reasonable manner. The red-coat made a break for the farthest corner, ducking away from the pursuing red rays of pain. He pulled out Terminator again with his empty right hand, and turned back to unload a slug round into the offending Darkling.

The two of them exchanged damage, Dante being clipped in the head with a screaming bolt while his foe recoiled back in agony as the shell caught him in the gut. The Romulan's team-mates were quick to support him, two hard-eyed aliens providing covering fire. Though the wounded soldiers were alternatively gasping in pain and gurgling on their tainted blood, they managed the gumption to drag themselves away by the skin of their fingers.

Now bleeding from a molten wound on his right temple, Dante pressed on in similar spite. Three more shots grazed his extremities as he weaved through the doubled-up blaster fire, but he merely cycled another spread shell into Terminator, leaped into the air, and let loose on the tough alien Darklings.

A spray of buckshot assault them both, but the Krogan and Klingon together were astute enough to shield themselves before Dante could launch his attack. What they couldn't expect was for the son of Sparda to toss away both firearms and come down with an overhead sword slash. The tremendous cut very nearly took off Koh'rax's shooting arm as it landed, but it only marked the beginning of his next assault. The Krogan could only fall back to avoid the diagonal swipe of the sword, his fellow alien not so fortunate as his gnarled face was torn open by the pointed blade. That unfortunately left his prone form exposed to another overhead attack, the Krogan Darkling's desperate blocking hand mashed into his own skull by the demonic steel.

Stomping on the bloody face of the Klingon as one would crush a cockroach, Dante sent a white-hot glare towards the remaining batch of dark-infected soldiers.

That's five down, so far, and five more to go. Let 'em have it, big guy.

[Madotsuki]

"Looks like someone else got here first," Rush muttered, holding his gun at the ready. Cautiously, they creeped up to the entrance until they could stick their hands into the empty doorway.

"I must say, I'm impressed." Sabitsuki kicked the broken door on the ground. It did not move. "I don't think even I could do this." This comment caught Rush's attention for the briefest of moments before he remembered her... other form. "Whoever did this had a lot of strength, but they would also need impressive dexterity to keep it from showing notable damage."

Madotsuki chanced a peek into the abysmal darkness. While she couldn't see much, she could tell that the room seemed in relatively good repair. Pulling her head out of the doorway, she said 'Whatever broke their way into here wasn't doing it for destruction's sake.'

"It's like an assassin," Rush marveled.

"Should we just leave?" Madeline wondered, tentatively examining her weapon. Her wide eyes and worried frown appeared very out of place on a face with two giant claw scars running past her eyes.

'We didn't come all this way to return empty-handed,' the dreamer reminded her, putting a hand on her ally's shoulder. 'You can wait outside if you don't want to go in--'

"N-n-no." The battle-scarred rebel tensed up and tightened her grip. "If I can't do this, then how will I get stronger? I don't want to get captured again."

'...Fair enough. You deserve to be able to protect yourself. Especially when we aren't there to help.'

The albino tapped Madeline on the head with her pipe. "So are we going in or are we just gonna stand out here all night?"

With a gulp, Rush turned back to the entrance. "...Let's go." He walked a few steps into the building, then paused. "Hey, Mado, Sabi? Can either of you work the flashlight for me? I need both of my hands to use the gun." Said object flew out of the darkness, whereupon the half-baku caught it in her free hand and flicked it on, directing the reassuring beam into the doorway. The black-haired rebel raised his laser gun up to shield his eyes, but then he lowered it and smiled at her. "Alright, now let's see if we can put shed light on the subject and turn the power on?"

[Madotsuki]

As they walked in, their steps echoed across the room. The dreamer swiveled side to side, swinging her torch around to brighten up obscure crevices. No one spoke for a while, leaving their footsteps the only sound in the area.

First things first: they needed to go activate the power-- having the entire facility in lights would make it far easier for everyone involved. In order to do that, they had to locate the locate the breaker room. Unfortunately they had no idea where it would be-- they never had the chance to case the place due to the gangsters inside.

Madotsuki was starting to wonder if there was a better way of going about this when her foot caught on something and she fell over. The flashlight skittered out her hand and she flailed about, trying to grab ahold something to pull herself up. A moment later, she suddenly realized that she had landed on the very thing that had tripped her. It was warm... and almost soft.

A hand had found its way to her palm, and she allowed it to pull her up before she could think too deeply about the suspicious thing that had toppled her. Once she was back on her feet, she could barely see Rush in front of her. "You okay?"

'I just tripped. Don't worry.' The half-baku brushed the dust off her shoulders. 'Did anyone see where the flashlight went?'

Alarmingly, the beam of light was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere not too far off, Madeline was starting to panic. "W-we need to find it fast!"

"I can go look for it," Sabitsuki suggested. "Or the breaker room. Madotsuki, babysit these two while I search."

"H-hey!" The raven-haired boy called out.

While they weren't close enough to see her leave, the sound of footsteps confirmed that the albino was no longer in the room. And then there was silence.

And then something knocked the dreamer down onto the floor.

[Kopaka]

Kopaka shuddered involuntarily as he passed through the cold gate to Coruscant. Thought the air of Tier 1 may have been pleasant and breezy, the stagnant, unnatural nature of it did not sit well with this creature of natural power. On top of that, the infamy that Kopaka carried within the Empire made each passing glance feel like a rahi's bite. Murmurs and idle conversation drifted all around him, and he could hear the ridicule in the voices of the security line, just waiting to be unleashed. Cold, protosteel fists balled tightly, and a passing urge to show these filth the nature of their idiocy washed over his normally placid emotions.

"Stop it..." he breathed to himself, forcefully willing his hands to uncurl. The time came for Kopaka to be checked, and naturally when he did, the Stormtroopers were upon him in an instant.

"Weelll...if it isn't the prodigal son." one EPD trooper said, passing a scanner over the Toa's body in a cursory fashion. Was he barely perceived as a potential threat anymore? The scanning officer's partner looked up from his data terminal and offered a harsh, barking laugh through the vocalizer in his helmet.

"Whatever. You're clear to proceed. Third time's the charm, right?" the terminal trooper said after briskly registering the Toa's presence in Coruscant. Kopaka said nothing as he proceeded from the security checkpoint. The sooner he could get this over with, the better. Stepping out from under the orange, transparent awning, Kopaka indulged in allowing the majesty of the city wash over him for a brief moment. As unnatural and uncomfortable as it was, Coruscant would always be a sight to behold. The Toa hailed one of the flying yellow cabs before arriving at his dreaded mecca of shame: The EPD Tier 1 Precinct Headquarters.

The monolithic black building loomed before him like a solid thunderstorm, but unlike a roiling cloud, Kopaka could not banish the looming dread with a gust of icy wind. The Toa proceeded up the granite steps with heavy metallic footfalls, trying his best not to make eye-contact with any of the the EPD personnel flitting about the threshold. As the Toa trudged through the silently opening doors, the officer on duty at the front desk rolled his eyes. He jabbed an intercom button with a black-gloved finger and spoke softly into the microphone, though Kopaka could still hear him quite clearly.

"Uh, Lieutenant? Kopaka is here." the officer said, saying Kopaka's name in the same tone one might use address the village idiot. The Bionicle's pride seethed. The calm yet biting voice of Lieutenant Brath came crawling back through the comms interface.

"You handle it Desh, I'm too busy for try-hard Prime garbage right now."

The air around Kopaka became achingly frigid as the Toa's anger boiled over for but a fleeting moment. The Captain looked on dubiously as the icy biomech stalked up to the EPD officer, holding a dark chip in front of him. Desh glanced at it once then actually cracked a smile.

"Well, it would seem as though you've made yourself useful for once, Kopaka." Desh said, going back to idly prodding the screen of his work station. Kopaka waited for further insult, but none came. Neither did any clarification. The EPD officer was doing this on purpose, and the Toa would have none of it.

"What. Is it." Kopaka breathed. Desh glanced up at the Bionicle with a wry glint in his eye.

"I dunno. Dark Chip or something. Dr. Regal is collecting them."

"...Who?"

Desh rolled his eyes.

"Listen, Kopaka. As much as the Empire values your...earnest nature to be of assistance, you've kind of blown it with us. We are not a resource for you, so just find the damn guy yourself." Desh said. The Captain hadn't even bothered to look up from his computer. Kopaka had already suspected this was the case, but to hear it coming from the EPD themselves burned like nothing the Toa had ever felt before. The biomech stood in place for a moment, resisting the urge to freeze the EPD Captain into chilly brick, before turning on his heel and silently walking out of the precinct.

Fine. Fine! He would find this Dr. Regal himself, and he would discover the nature of these 'Dark Chips' on his own.

...

By the time the Toa did finally locate the lab of Dr. Regal on Tier 2, hours had passed. As loathe as he was to admit it, the Toa was still not entirely proficient in navigating the data structure of Coruscant's directory system. An EPD uplink would have been marvelously handy in that regard, but...

Kopaka breathed deeply for a moment, his respirators whirring rapidly for a moment as the Toa took a moment to calm himself. It wouldn't be productive to be in the middle of a silent temper tantrum when dealing with a new person of significance in Coruscant. If he was ever going to save face in this Verse, and indeed, the Omniverse as a whole, he was going to execute this investigation of his flawlessly.

Stepping into the cool and quaint lobby of Dr. Regal's lab, Kopaka took note of a few other interesting figures which had already been assembled. The Toa couldn't be sure, but based on their general appearance and equal desire to size him up, Kopaka assumed that they were Primes as well. It was funny; Kopaka had felt for a long time that being a Prime made him something of a rarity in the Omniverse, but he was beginning to discover that this closed-off dimension was practically choked with beings like himself.

"Hello Sir, how may I be of assistance?" came a chiming, pleasant voice from his left. Kopaka turned his head to see a short automaton of the same general configuration as the beings he had dispatched in the Nexus. Curious. The Dark Chip was held out wordlessly, and the navi seemed taken aback.

"Oh my! How did you come by such a thing? Hmmm..." the Navi said, delicately plucking the chip from Kopaka's fingers.

"I found it."

The navi must have been running some sort of internal analysis because a moment later he piped up in an excited tone.

"You don't appear to be on Dr. Regal's list of Primes to contact, but it is quite fortuitous you found your way here! Yes, Dr. Regal will certainly want to have a word with you! Please, do take a seat. He is almost finished making preparations for debriefing you and your teammates." the navi said before scuttling into a closed-off room towards the back of the reception area.

"Wait, teammates?" Kopaka breathed, glancing again at the other Primes seated around him. Things were moving very fast now, and the Toa didn't like it....

[Nebula]

Dr. Regal glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes only barely catching sight of a figure exiting the room. Though he knew whoever it was had uttered something upon entering the room, he had been too absorbed in his work to pay much attention. The researcher shuffled roughly the pile of papers he had been scanning before slipping it back into the manila folder. With a small sigh he laid the documents to the side and opened the parcel that the visitor had left him, unfolding the torn rag to reveal what he recognized immediately as a Dark Chip. He slid the nearly palm-sized bit of silicon into his grasp, tumbling it experimentally between his hands to examinethe weight and texture of the device before slipping it into his breast pocket. There was no mistaking it; his suppositions had been nothing short of correct.

“Dr. Regal,” the tinny tone of his secretary spoke from a terminal on his left. “Your visitors have begun to arrive.”

The doctor nodded to himself as he rose to stand, smoothing down the folds of his plum-colored jacket as he did so. He brought a gloved hand to his stylized monocle, adjusting it slightly before making for the door. Now was as good a time as any to address the gathered. He hoped that with their help he could track down and gather more information on what Nebula was planning.

Polished chrome doors swished open as Regal approached, the brightly-lit hallway from which he had emerged soon vanishing from sight as the automatic egress closed itself in his wake. A solitary, barely audible ding announced his arrival to those gathered, barely managing to draw the attention of even half of the newcomers. As he looked upon strange congregation, he fought the frown crawling across his lips. The turnout so far was...less than optimal.

“Greetings, everyone,” the doctor husked, pausing before slowly taking the few steps down from the hallway to the atrium proper. “I thank you all for coming.” His eyes flitted around the room, quickly sizing up each individual. “With so little reason to come all the way here beyond a simple request, I’m truly appreciative. If there are any questions you all might have, please feel free to ask for both your benefit and that of the group.” He folded his arms behind his back, dawning a pleasant smile as he awaited a response.

[Madotsuki]

On instinct, the dreamer phased out just in time to avoid a set of claws. She flew away from the intruder, turning back to normal a few feet away and withdrawing her knife.

"SABI! THE LIGHTS!" Rush shouted, firing off a shot towards where he heard the impact. The red laser raced by, hitting nothing, but providing just enough light for Madotsuki to catch a glimpse of what was attacking her: a lanky humanoid with one eye, as well as a giant black... thing jutting out of its back.

The monster reared up for another attack, but the half-baku was faster, slicing into its arm before it knocked her away. She quickly closed the distance, grabbing both of its arms and grappling with it. Another laser flew into the fight, just barely missing her head.

"S-sorry about that," Madeline stammered, shooting again and this time landing a shot on the beast's torso. It roared, and with an astonishing amount of power, it flung the dreamer away and into the air. Her impromptu flight was brought to an end when her head slammed into one of the defunct robots at the conveyor belt. Both Madotsuki and the machine collapsed to the ground.

She struggled to stand up as spots swam in her vision. The stray parts had fallen on top of her, and she was too far out of it to push them away.

The creature might've gotten to her had the lights remained off.

[Skeletor]

“Alright, pal. I’m gonna need you to do something about that face.” Ark spoke, his voice projected by his helmet’s speakers. “We don’t want your little death’s head visage here scarring some little girl.”

Skeletor looked at the Squad leader with an implacable expression, then raised an arm. He snapped with blue fingers and a gaunt mustached face appearing over his skull, its pale skin contrasting sharply with the blueish color of the rest of his skin. The Warlock dropped back his hood, instead donning a brown cap leading to a tapering point. A red feather sticking up from the brim competed the look.

“Is this better, Soldier?” the Warlock asked with a sneer. The Stormtrooper was silent for a while, before his speaker crackled back to life.

“I guess it’ll have to do. We’re on a tight schedule team!”

The Journey across the Nexus was long, but Skeletor was patient, he was still weak from being returned to life by that accursed thing, Omni. He would take some time recollect his power before attempting anything overly strenuous.

[center]---[/center]

The Stormtroopers escorted Skeletor through the checkpoint, having moved to surround him in as non-threatening a manner as possible. Skeletor walked amongst them, allowing them to encircle him for now. As he walked through the streets he focused, recalling his Havoc Staff and summoning it back into his waiting hand. The Warlock eyed his surroundings with an appraising glance. The spires of Coruscant rose around him, dwarfing even the spires of King Randor’s palace. Truly this new world was one he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

A lesser man than Skeletor would have been humbled by this realization, but the rightful ruler of Eternia was only stoked to greater ambitions. What need he to waste his time conquering such paltry settlements as Darkshire when there were such glorious domiciles as this? The emotionless face of Ro-Man as he thrust his spear through Skeletor’s chest appeared in his mind, and Skeletor gripped his havoc staff tighter. What reason besides revenge, at least.

The air around him was alive with prosperity, of a kind that he had not seen since that tyrannical Randor had been placed in control of the kingdom. Myriad faces and races conducted their business all around him, although his escort of Stormtroopers did ensure he was never blocked by the traffic of people. Up ahead he could see an imposing and well-fortified structure that was most assured the headquarters the soldier had mentioned to him. Skeletor was almost intimidated, as the structure seemed strong enough that he might not be able to escape by the pure power of magic alone.  The Warlock was surprised however, when the leader of his escort veered off suddenly. Stopping in front of a vertical tube, the Stormtrooper tapped and ID card to the monitor and the group piled into one of the many elevators instead.

The Second tier of Coruscant was by no means bad looking. While it lacked the grandiose skyline and spiraling towers, there was a solid presence afforded by the concrete sky above their heads. Skeletor’s suspicions of the stormtroopers only continued to go as their leader lead them down a collection of side streets before the crew split off, forming a perimeter around an alleyway, where Skeletor and Ark entered. Leader of the Stormtroopers knocked four times on a door that seemed to be a side entrance into a barber shop and waited. He looked nervous, Skeletor decided, cloak draped around his shoulders and Havoc staff resting casually in one hand. The Stormtrooper glanced up and down the alley as he waited, before one of the nearby panels sprung to life. Ark stepped up to it, and jerked a thumb at the disguised Skeletor behind him.

“Found one! Not even a freshie! He must of just got rezz’d.”

Symbols danced across the panel as it traced out and recorded Ark and the Prime he had brought. In a short while, a metallic voice answered. “The Resurrection Sickness is still in effect, this prime’s worth is thereby lessened 50% and your pay shall be reduced accordingly.” Another panel slid out from the wall, holding a small silicon wafer marked with the Imperial sigil.

Ark took the chip, but cried in outrage. “You’re trying to rip me off! I got you primes just like you asked, and this one has been through some fighting! He’s experienced!” There was no response from the panel. “You know, I should report you!” Ark threatened with a slight waver in his voice, “The Empire is going to notice if you keep snagging the primes we’re supposed to send their way!”

“Then you would be the one suggesting that the noble defenders of the Emperor would be susceptible to bribes in the first place, Sergeant. You will need to improve the creativity of your threats if you want more of my credits. Send the prime in, and be on your way before somebody spots you!”

The Stormtrooper grumbled but motioned for Skeletor to enter. The Master of Evil remained stationary “I don’t think you understand how this works, Soldier.” Skeletor murmured, his havoc staff sparking with unused power. “I am not some cattle to herded about and traded at market. You said that I was to be brought to your superiors that they might help me gain revenge!”

There was metallic laughter from the door-panel, “Then you were lied to prime. We command nothing but these mercenary’s wallets, and we care little about your revenge. Right now, there is something far more important going on.”

Skeletor cackled, though he was out of breath by the time he finished. How much of his power had death drained away? There was no time for that concern now, he had to press through it. “And what makes you think I care about your little game, you tin-tongued bucket of bolts?”

“Because there is a great power that threatens every verse it touches.” The voice sounded concerned, but Skeletor barely cared, he had ceased to pay attention after he heard the word he was looking for. Power. That was what he needed. That was what would let him avenge his humiliation at the feet of Darkshire.

Skeletor stepped towards the doorway with an intent gaze, “Tell me more…”

[Madotsuki]

The beast recoiled at the sudden presence of light, its head turning just in time to catch the iron pipe headed into its face. It stumbled backwards, a fair of claws covering its fresh wound.

"What is this thing?" The albino asked, readying the pipe for another swing.

"Not sure," Madeline replied, running over to the dreamer so she could assist her with standing up.

"Whatever it is, let's just put it out of its misery." Rush leveled out his gun and fired at the beast, nailing his shot and making the creature double over. Madotsuki rushed into the fray as soon as she recovered, making quick work of her foe with the help of her teammates.

Eventually the beast collapsed to the floor, no longer moving. The black object in its back hummed and trembled, and the crew took cover as it burst out of the monster at breakneck speed. It collided with the ceiling, then fell to the floor and vibrated for a few seconds before becoming still.

Hesitantly, the half-baku reached over and picked up the thing. She could feel... something trying to crawl into her skin as she examined what looked like some sort of computer chip. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, but she wasn't going to allow it to access her body if that cyclopes was any indication of what would happen.

"Hey, um, I think that thing made our job a lot easier," the brunette said, pointing over to where Madotsuki had tripped earlier. A corpse of a bulky man lied there, evidently the thing that had made the dreamer lose her footing. He wasn't wearing any sort of guard clothing, so she could assume that it was one of the rival gang members.

"Yeah, I was going to mention that," Sabitsuki said. "There were a few more bodies in the breaker room."

"You thinking about getting the stuff now?" Rush asked.

The Rust member nodded. "Sure. The only people I saw around here were dead, so..."

'Can you handle that on your own?'  Madotsuki held up the chip. 'I feel like this thing is really important. I need info.'

"Info?" The albino repeated. "I've heard of this scientist up on Tier 2. Maybe he could help?"

'Can I get directions?'

"Sure."

[Madotsuki]

Right, so this was the building. Hopefully Sabitsuki's directions were right.

She followed the general stream of people (although a trickle would be more accurate) as they entered, aiming to find another person with one of those chips. Eventually she caught one as they turned in a chip before they were redirected to another room.

She did likewise, eexcept this time she made it clear that she would keep the item in her possession. The receptionist, although suspicious, let her through.

It wasn't long before she arrived in a little room with a group of people. The man who stood alone at the opposite end of the room and talking had to have been Nebula, so she walked over to him as he finished talking.

'It looks like a lot of people have been finding these,' she commented, displaying the chip for the doctor to see. 'But what are these things?'

[Skeletor]

Skeletor stepped in, the bribed stormtroopers moving on with only the slightest grumbling. Before him sat a decrepit-looking robot, its faceplate grimed where an oil leak had not been cleaned. Skeletor looked at him with disdain.

“I doubt that you have anything to teach me of power, Trash can.” He stated simply, arms crossed confidently in front of himself.

The Robot’s internal mechanisms whirred with a painfully audible noise as it slowly responded. “Not me…. I am to send…. you to … Dr. Regal… he will…. Explan.” As he finished the statement the Robot’s noises grew significantly louder. it looked down as a roll of paper began inching out of a slot built into its chest. Once the paper stopped, and the sound retreated, the robot tore the paper, extending it to Skeletor. Printed on the sheet was an address. So this was finally who he was really supposed to be meeting.

“One question, Bot. Why do you work for the doctor?” Skeletor asked as he turned to leave.

The Robot gave a dry repeated chugging that may have been a laugh at some point. “Finder’s fee….. Regal wants..... primes. but..... doesn’t….. trust Soldiers….. Ark’s Squad is…. too nervous to ask…. questions.”

Skeletor nodded, and extended his Havoc Staff, “I am not a crate of Wine to be traded amongst hagglers!” he declared before blasting the already crippled Robot clear out of its seat. It did not immediately retaliate, and Skeletor did not care enough to find out if it was still operational.  Now it was time to see this Dr. Regal and get some answers.


The directions were clear enough, once Skeletor found the signs, and he entered the lab with an air of purpose. Finally, his quest for power was seeing progress! Another robot, this one clearly subservient, greeted him as he entered, and made inquiries about the nature of his visit. Skeletor ignored her stalking past with determination, he could already hear the voices of the ones that he was looking for. It was but a moment's work to find the room the other primes had been gathered in.

Skeletor strode into the room with a confident pace. The Master of Evil glanced around him, there were already several primes here it seemed. In one corner Stood a tall mechanical being, its movements too smooth for its seemingly bulky body. It watched as he entered, its optical scanner rotating slightly as it studied the illusory face he was currently hiding behind. The Bio-mech’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. A large armored warrior was sitting on a couch nearby, trying his best not to utterly crush the sagging furniture under his suit’s weight. He pulled out a cigar from somewhere on the suit and lit it, prompting the nearest other prime to stick out her tongue in disgust. Skeletor noticed it was the same girl that had abandoned their cause before they had set out to attack Darkshire. His grip on his Havoc staff tightened as he turned away.

There were three other figures in the room, A ragged homeless man sat at another of the couches, clutching his forearm. Skeletor more or less ignored, as he seemed little threat, of far more interest were the last two, in fact, the man talking to the other girl seemed the most likely of the group to be this Dr. Regal.

Skeletor began to approach, when the room began to shift, spinning away from under him, slowly. The Master of Evil grit his teeth. He would not show his weakness here, not in front of so many that would take the chance to slay him yet again. He had returned once by Omni’s curse, there was no promise he would do so again. Forcing himself through the Resurrection Sickness, Skeletor approached Madotsuki and Dr. Regal.

“What is that thing?” he demanded, pointing to the small chip the girl was holding, “And is it the source of this power I was told about?”

[Marisa Kirisame]

As Chara was flipping her knife to keep her self interested, she saw skeletor. she caught it one last time before sheathing it, and heading up to the taller skeleton, she waved before speaking, and showed her face with black goop coming off, she would love messing with the skeleton. "So how did that assault go for you? Terrible I hope."

 She grinned a shit eating grin, while bashing the skeleton. "I would love to bash you some more, butttt we have a job to do. A responcibility as Primes, to protect the world we inherit. I doubt you would understand, being power minded and all that jazz.' she chuckled like an idiot as she then turned quickly into her hate form. 'Why are you really here? I know for a fact, that villains don't just help out of the kindness of there hearts."

She did tricks with her knife as she looked at Mado going back into her normal self. She wondered what tricks this person would bring, as they were probolly a prime. She walked over to a wall, and sat on the ground. She sheathed her knife, and imagined a chalk board in thin air. She started to work on complex problems that would put most ten year olds to shame. As she looked at everyone, she sighed. She just wished this thing would get on the road.