As the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak abandoned its previous host and jumped ship to Bowser, the Koopa King was filled with a burning ecstasy as the newfound power coursed through his body, followed shortly thereafter by an endless desire for destruction and the abject terror of a dying man. As the infamous Crimson Cosmos Armor of the Juggernaut formed itself around his body, the destructive influence of Cyttorak and the memories that flowed from the now-deceased Cain Marko conflicted within Bowser's brutish mind, threatening to utterly consume him.

Bowser flailed around and roared wildly until the blue shapeshifter, Mystique, approached from behind and made her presence known. Her threatening voice gave Bowser an anchor to latch on to, keeping his mind from completely being shattered and calming him for the time being.

And then a different voice emerged, from the same person. Turning his head to see what had happened, the new Juggernaut snarled at Vaas when he leaned in, not paying any mind to the armed Madripoor soldiers that the madman had brought with him. He relented when the man placed a hand on his now crimson shell, perhaps recognizing something about him. When the vulgar man asked the name of the corpse, Bowser struggled to respond.

"Cain Marko . . . Strong . . . Not worthy . . . Bury . . ."

Bowser took a step toward Marko's dismembered corpse and bent down to grip it in his stubby arms. Even with Cyttorak having deemed Marko unworthy of his power, something inside the Koopa King demanded that he give the man a proper burial.

edited 31st May '15 9:33:16 PM by TrashJack

Teridax

Upon hearing the child's voice the Makuta turned round, shadows softly weaving a cocoon around the them.

"Yes..."

Slowly, Teridax stood up and made his way to the child. Behind him, ever so slightly, the child would be able to see the silhouette of a pair of black wings behind the Makuta.

"I am your angel from the sky child."

His voice was inhumanly soothing, calming, reassuring the child of safety.

"What is it that you want?"

edited 1st Jun '15 1:54:44 AM by biomechtraveler

Washington DC

The boy's eyes remained stuck on Teridax's face, as he let out several 'wows' each time his metallic lips moved.

"Are you going to clean the world? Like you said you would, in my dreams?"

Teridax

The Makuta paused. Who was this child? He guessed that he would find out very soon.

"Yes."

He thought of the other overlords. Their plans to takeover the world were admirable but their efforts less so. Destroy, takeover. What was the difference.

"I will be the one that cleanses this world. But...do you want the world to be clean?"

Washington DC

The boy nodded earnestly, tucking the drawing close to his heart.

"The world is evil! Lots of hate. That's what my family told me. That's why we don't live in house, but on stinking sewer..."

He stifled a sob.

"But then I had a dream, and it was you, and other friend angels, coming to clean the world, and then we'd live in house, and everyone would live in house together!"

Suddenly, he closed the gap between him and Teridax, grabbing the robot's hand and trying to take him deeper into the sewer. "Come come! I'll show you my room!"

Teridax

As soon as the boy touched Teridax's hand, the mask of shadows grew warm deep within the Makuta's chest and the Boy would for a moment feel that everything in the world was going to be alright. The Makuta's hand closed gently around the child's and he allowed himself to be led deeper into the sewers.

"You are right. This world is filled with such pain, such evil. But I am here to bring an end to that."

edited 1st Jun '15 2:52:48 AM by biomechtraveler

The Master swipes his hand across his sweaty forehead looking at his current blueprints of the nuclear weapon and a slowly growing set of communicators. "This is some fascinating technology, this weapon. We need better though. Tatu needs better. I won't end up like the clown for disappointing him. They're searching for us and I haven't even attacked my target yet. There's so much..."

He punches the table, nearly knocking over the set piles of communicators. The clock is ticking, Koschei. They're all growing and gaining strength. You need a purpose. A spot or you will perish. He looks over to one of the housekeepers and points at him. "You! Ask all of them outside if they need anything else from my labs and remind them I still need to target my own foes." I know it'll be a while to me due to the time compression but that doesn't matter. Just means more time to perfect this...to perfect everything. You need to be perfect...I can be, I'm more than smart enough. Just need time.

Tesseract - Attilan

"You have researched this. Is there any methods or procedures I must be aware of, or may I simply cut a piece off?"

Tesseract gestured towards his dagger, which still lay in his hand.

Menardi - Space Base Tearoom

Menardi grinned. So, she'd been correct! Powers that far exceeded what the Philosopher's Stone or even the deeper secrets of Alchemy still awaited. Truly, she had died and arrived in a pleasant afterlife.

"I see, so this is just the beginning! No wonder-"

She stopped herself. The bugs that were floating around the cakes made her wary of the possibility of the others listening in. She extended a hair-thin tendril of fire to burn away the pests, the lines of flame hot enough to immediately incinerate any normal bug.

"Your words when you first summoned me echo more strongly now, as does my conviction."

When she was a god, there would be none who could manipulate her. Menardi would rule over her own destiny in time.

"But will your campaign go unchecked? There is a rumour going about a group of warriors from another world seeking to confront us."

Chase Young - Not Pleased

"I doubt that every time he has returned to this time everything has been the same," Chase pondered out loud. "From the second time onwards, he has known what we were up to and tried to afffect the result. But even now he hasn't been able to succeed on every front, since you were able to take over the Hellfire Club despite his attempts to prevent it."

Yuyuko and her companions' ramblings were definitely not the answer he had expected... or one that was useful in any way. He did not care about flight and stupid rice crackers. He wanted to know about nuclear weapons activating in China.

"Are you sure you are not forgetting something?" the heylin warrior inquired, with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. "Something related to, I don't know, the explosive weapons that were activated at your location?"

She stood inside a house. Common, average house, utterly unremarkable in every way, save one fact. Her objective was here. Inside this house. Soul Edge would soon need a new host body, and Tira had been dispatched to find one. Imagine her joy when she managed to find not one, but two possibilities. Children, siblings in fact. Born with the taint of Soul Edge already inside of them. It made them perfect for a host, would ease the process of the takeover.

And so Tira stepped over the body of the woman in front of her. The mother, predictably, had objected to this. Foolish woman had dared to try to oppose Soul Edge in the past, and had somehow escaped with her life. A mistake that Tira had just corrected. But then again, she should be grateful. it was that very opposition that had infected her with the taint of Soul Edge, and enabled it to spread to her children on their birth. Tira chuckled at the irony of it all.

She stepped into the room holding the children. A bedroom, of course. The children were hiding on the far wall. They had heard the sounds of combat, apparently. Tira was unconcerned. She knelt down in front of them.

"Hey there. Do you want to go on a trip?" She asked, her cheerful voice betraying nothing of the pure sadism she had shown a few minutes ago as she ripped their mother apart. The children did not respond, apparently frozen with fear. That was ok. She had a solution to that. She reached into what passed for a pocket on her torn outfit and pulled out a shard, which the children's gaze was drawn to instantly.

"Ohh, do you like it? I have plenty more of them." She said, a smile on her face. "All you have to do is come with me." Wordlessly, the children nodded, their gaze following the shard as she put it back into her pocket. She walked over to the window and opened it, motioning for them to go out of it. No need for them to see their mother's mutilated corpse and complicate things. As they went out, it occurred to her that Soul Edge only needed one of them. Then she shrugged. The other's soul would make a fine offering to it.

She awoke in darkness. A place she was well versed with. But something was wrong. Something strange was attached to her. Cold and hard. Panicking, she yanked the things out of her arm. Then she looked around, realizing she was trapped in something. She reached forward, ripping whatever it was holding her apart.

She fell, landing on all fours on the waiting floor. She heard a clatter next to her, and looked over to see her ring blade next to her. It must have been in the thing with her. She grabbed it, the familiar steel bringing a smile to her face. Then she rose. She looked around, seeing a bunch of strange things around her much like she had been trapped in. As for what they were, she had no idea. Right now, she was only thinking one thing, one very important thing.

"Master?" She said quietly, looking around for any sign of Nightmare or Soul Edge itself. "Where are you?"

edited 2nd Jun '15 12:49:57 PM by Meanken

Zeal, Desco, & Schala (Combined GG & Stephan Reikan Post)

"A few of the Hellfire Club members were killed in the fight, so our mission wasn't a complete success," Zeal pointed out to Chase. "But you do raise a good point."

"So you want to be an adult?" Zeal turned to ask Wilhelmina, stroking her chin as if considering the idea. "I suppose any child would... At least, any child who would want to be taken seriously as a threat."

"However," Zeal glanced over at Desco, remembering from Amora's memories that Klarion once used magic to switch the ages of everyone on this planet, so using that on one person should be no trouble. "I believe Klarion was the most skilled at manipulating ages and you now have his power."

"Would you like the honors, Desco?" Zeal asked, offering Desco the chance to show off her magic.

Desco looked at the young girl and then at her own hands. Age huh? Desco wanted to be older too, at least try it for a while and see how it looked. She searched her magical knowledge and held her hands over her chest. "Morf eht niatnuof fo ginga i tnaw ot kool owt dnasuoht sraey redlo!" Desco chanted the magic and her body glowed purple. She shifted with her body growing tall. Soon it was finished and looked like a tall young adult around 17. "Yay it worked! How old do you want to be?"

Zeal looked rather surprised that Desco decided to change her own age to be that of a 17 year old, though Zeal was sure she said two thousand years in her spell. Even Schala who had been watching on was surprised at what Desco had done.

"Right, make her..." Zeal began to think of how much older she should be. "10 years older... She is human after all."

Desco nodded, she was a demon so she aged at a much slower rate than a human, at least after reaching the body she has now. Demons has lifespans of thousands of years. Desco held out her hands and chanted a similar backwards speech magic for Wilhelmina. "Morf eht niatnuof fo ginga ekam siht eno kool net sraey redlo!" The same thing happened as a purple glow emitted from her as had Desco and her body changed shape with the advance in age.

"Now, you know." Desco held up one finger to teach the girl on the magical knowledge she was using. "This form is only an illusion. It'll wear off if your bodyparts get chopped off!" Desco's illusions were quite sturdy but such a drastic change in the user would shatter the magic.

As she asked Desco to do this, Zeal began attempting to use her magic to warp the mind of Wilhelmina attempting to make her completely subservient to Zeal's own will. Zeal would have rather made a more powerful or skilled individual her enthralled champion, but Wilhelmina would have to do for now since everyone else from the Hellfire Club was too useful in resources available to them to make into a champion and she did not want to use one of her own Zealots for this. Zeal did frown at hearing that the form was an illusion, but added her own transformative magic to make her adult look the most real it could be.

"You look my age now, I think," Schala hugged Desco from behind testing to see if the form felt like an illusion or not and pointing out Bowser-Juggernaut and Vaas-Mystique on the monitor. "Bowser won."

edited 3rd Jun '15 4:48:55 AM by Chabal2

edited 3rd Jun '15 4:47:31 AM by Lemurian

Attilan

"Despite its properties, the Terrigen does not need special procedures to be cut." Amon said, checking the other entrances. "Although, be careful, Tesseract. If it falls to the ground, it'll create a small Terrigen mist. If we inhale it, it'll definitely kill us. It needs to be purified first."

He reached into the briefcase he had been carrying ever since the mission began, pulling out a burlap sack. "Place as many as you can in here." Amon said, before placing the briefcase on the floor and bending the water from the sewers into it, watching as its inner circuits were fried. "We have ten minutes before we'll be teleported back to the Space Base."

Space Base

"Our scans confirm that there have been traces of nuclear explosion from where Ms. Yuyuko came from." The Housekeeper informed Chase Young, as another walked into the room, parroting the Master's announcement.

"All those who wish technological assistance, the Master awaits you in his lab."

"I look... beautiful!" Wilhelmina whispered to herself as she looked at her now 24 year old body- thankfully, her clothes had grown along with her age. Combing her long blonde hair with her fingers as her other hand hugged herself, she noticed Zeal in front of her and threw herself to her feet, kissing Zeal's boots. "How will I ever thank you, my Queen?"

   "I would not worry about them. No matter what they do..."    Tatu put down his tea cup and reached over the table to caress Menardi's hand.    "It won't stop your ascension, my dear. You know, once you achieve godhood, you'll become the... essence of a concept. Just like me."    He nodded.    "Although I won't tell you what my concept is- that is a secret which will be revealed in time- I do wonder what will yours be..."    Reaching for Menardi's cheek, he wiped away a bit of cake that had somehow gotten there.    "The Mind? The Soul?... the Body?"   

   "Hello there."   

If she looked around, Tira would see something sitting on a nearby old and withered tree. It was a man, one that towered above her, ebony skin covered in red tattoos that glowed ever so slightly, reddish hair waving about in an unseen wind and two penetrating crimson orbs staring down at her.    "Welcome to my humble abode. I... am Tatu."    His long, prickly fingers rubbed his chin as he floated down from the tree.    "You must be Tira, correct?"   

Washington DC

The boy took Teridax through dark and dingy sewer tunnels, avoiding one of them which led to a surprisingly well-lit area. "That is where all the others stay." He told Teridax, the grip on his drawing growing stronger. "They don't like you, Mr. Angel. I told you about them, and they said I was dreaming! But now you're here, and I know that dreams do come true. But first I need to show you all my drawings!" He said, excitedly, hopping on one foot as he continued to drag the robot through the darkness.

They eventually stopped at a small round room which connected to all of the tunnels, which Teridax would immediately identify- due to all of the scaffolding and stairs leading to a boarded up ceiling- as the room through which workers entered the sewers. But covering the once gray and desolate walls were drawings, hundreds of them, all with the same style that labeled them as creations of the scaly boy. Their contents, however, were slightly unsettling.

It was the Overlords, drawn with details no sewer-living boy could ever obtain.

Spread around the northeast wall were drawings which portrayed, with exquisite detail (seen through the eyes of a child, of course), the battle between Teridax and Captain America. Except in this version, Captain America had red eyes, sharp teeth and an evil look on his face. Mr. Angel fights! proudly announced the words above the drawings. Spread around were drawings of individual Overlords, scattered around with simplistic smiles on their faces. Dio's drawing had sequins amateurishly glued to it. One drawing of Tesseract and Amon declared them to be mask buddies. Menardi stood in front of the four elements with the title of super elements!

"This is Mr. Angel." The boy said, pointing to a row of pictures depicting Teridax and the boy doing everyday activities, such as eating icecream, playing on the park, and going to school. In all of them, Teridax held the boy's hand. There was one, the biggest drawing of them all, that had all of the heroes Teridax had seen in the meeting lying on the ground, X's on their eyes, with Teridax standing atop of them, the boy on his shoulders. Happy world, it said.

"Where are Mr. Angel's friends?" The boy asked, showing him a picture of Chase Young dancing (an effect achieved by having his stick arms pointing in different directions). "Are they coming soon?"

As soon as Tira saw Taru, she was transfixed by him. She had never seen anything quite like him before, and she could tell instantly that this was something, someone unlike anything she had ever seen before. As she took a cautious step toward the man, she could sense the power that he held, power unlike any she had ever beheld before, power that made Soul Edge look like a plaything in comparison. She continued to approach, her purple eyes wide with wonder at this being that stood before her.

"Yes, that is my name. How did you know?" She said. "And, I....I have to ask. What are you? I've never sensed such power before."

   "Ah, such pleasantries. Enough to make me blush."    Tatu muttered, pacing himself around Tira.    "I am a god. Perhaps the most powerful you will ever encounter. And I have a plan, Tira. You see... I have taken you- no, I have recruited you... to be my general on an effort to conquer the entire multiverse."    He placed his hands on Tira's shoulders.    "You're not the only general, of course. You're one of many chosen by hand to lead my armies. Doesn't that excite you, Tira? I know it excites me."   

Tira was giddy with excitement at this point. She had no idea what a Multiverse was, of course, but she knew what generals were and what they did. Lots and lots of killing. There was no way she would be turning down the opportunity to kill in the name of someone who made Soul Edge's power look like a candle next to a blazing inferno.

Oh, yes, yes it does! She said, before suddenly changing moods, signaled by her eyes closing into a glare and her body going limp, as if someone had just cut the strings controlling her. You want me to kill for you? Rip out the beating hearts of your foes and bring you their souls? Just say the word, and I will do it for you, my new master.

Attilan - The Crystal Maze

Tesseract nodded, and grasped a protrusion of crystal in one hand, while cutting away at the length connecting it to the main body in the other. His blade was magically sharp, and while it wouldn't shear through steel or granite, it would work nicely against the crystal.

Once that piece was cut off, he would continue his cutting, being careful in placing the crystals within the sack.

Menardi could not help but blush at the brief touch of Tatu's hand. Again he was laying it on so thick she wasn't sure how much was genuine. She tried to concentrate on his words, but...oh, how sweet they sounded. To become a deity. No longer cut off from society, but a core of existence. Not a puppet of fate, but a spinner of her own destiny. Her word law and even her wildest dreams within reach. She tried to answer his question seriously.

"I...I don't know what..."concept" that would be. Mind maybe, with my Psynergy. But if I could become a god...then my concept would be Change, I think. A shapeshifter by nature, an Alchemist by nurture, at the end of my life given a new role...change defying the ordinary laws of fate has followed me throughout my life. Perhaps that is my...concept."

Teridax

As they walked, Teridax kept his eyes on the child. However, it didn't take him much mental power to sense the animosity, the fear and the curiosity that emanated from his surroundings. People, if that word could even describe some of them, were living here because the world of sunlight had rejected them.

He felt it, just under the skin- hatred or anger at those who denied them their right to live normal lives. Easily wielded for those who were apt.

But first, he would gaze upon the child's drawings. He did and when he examined them Teridax raised an eyebrow. Could this boy see the future? He had heard enough of the mutants of earth to know that their mutations granted them a fascinating variety of powers. Fascinating, if he could crack the code that was the mutant DNA.

Imagine tailoring mutations to suit the need.

But that was a matter for another time. Teridax reached down and unpinned one of the boy's drawings- it was the one where he fights a devilish looking captain America.

"What wonderful drawings. You have talent, child. And my friends...yes, they are coming and some have already come. Some are disguised, dressed up as normal people to blend in. Others watch and wait in a space station high in the sky."

Teridax pauses then replaces the drawing on the wall.

"Child, what is your name?"

edited 5th Jun '15 4:23:59 AM by biomechtraveler

Lancer and Kirei(?); Monster Metropolis

"Tell ya what. I'll make sure this sack of joy ain't dead. Then we can come back down and sort out all your problems. King's orders, through the lips of his most humble Servant."

Lancer turned around, almost flourishing Kirei.

"Oi, sneaky bastards. Keep an eye on them. Or six. The less of you there are the better."

He gave the heavens a fanged smirk.

"And that's your cue to get us, Tatu."

The Celt and his cargo disappeared in a beam of light.

You will forgive me if I say that my past is a mystery. I mean no deception. I affect nothing. What I say is simply the truth as it lies at present.

You must understand. There is an eternal storm in my mind. Not a scream of rain and thunder, but a wet whispering wind, rotting my memories to the bone. The desolation takes and takes. It does not give. Every day I face the desolation.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

I don't understand. I don't know why I'm here, or why the mist chose me, or why every day I wake up trying to name something that writhes on the tip of my leaden tongue. Perhaps the mist is my shield, my desperate attempt at erasing the sins of my past. Perhaps not. I don't understand anything.

There was a woman...

All I know is that I am empty. Dying I shall die.

Sometimes the breath of God blows through my graveyard mind. Sometimes I remember.

"He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end."

My father is exegeting in his study. Ecclesiastes Chapter Three. Verse Eleven.

I am eight.

"Father?"

"Yes, Kirei?"

"What is beauty? I don't understand."

Kotomine Risei looks at me from under bushy gray brows. Smiles his wide craggy man's smile.

"Beauty, my son, is to do the work of God."

"What is the work of God, Father?"

"To show charity and compassion. To stay faithful to the Church. To bring the repentant to salvation. To slay the demon and the heretic."

"Will that make me beautiful, Father?"

He laughs, cups my cheek in his massive hand. It is warm. My lips are cold and my eyes are bright. Fascinated I feel his blood coursing through his veins. I wonder, for a moment, what it would feel like on my face. What my father would sound like screaming.

"You are already beautiful, my son. You are made in the image of God."

My eyes widen. The thoughts retreat, then surge. I nod, lips pursed.

"Yes. I understand, Father."

That night, I go to my room and cry. I beg forgiveness for my evil thoughts. I beg the Holy Virgin to ask God to take them away.

Nothing. The next night I beg again, and still nothing. I will pray the same prayer for the next twenty years, not understanding, never understanding.

Because beauty is the rictus gasp. The hot blooming slick and the coppery fragrance. Everything else is cold and gray and dead.

God help me, God help me. I am damned.

And I remember something else. Almighty God, Blessed Virgin. Help me.

I baptized a devil with the Word. An adulteress, a succubus who revelled in her own harlotry. I gave her the due wages of her sin. She died with a curse on her lips.

And I am cursed. I have lived Hell. A thousand years of open rebellion. New old memories, like black mud bubbling through my mind-soil. I am profane. I am sin. I am demon. And the most terrible thing, the horror that sinks its claws into my wailing soul:

I have not changed one jot. Every new sin is old, a mocking thorn in my flesh. Everything I now desire I wanted already. I lust now as I did then. I want now as I did then. I doubt now as I did then, to the same despicable excess, and I -

God will not help me. I am damned already.

edited 5th Jun '15 5:05:33 AM by troydenite

Dio Brando: Fresh Prince of the Back Alleys

I can, however, remember the sound of impact. As the windows reverberated, dust fell from the ceiling in sheets. It was sublime.

Astoundingly, the text itself survived with only minor cracking and the flattening of the operative corner, binding loosened but otherwise intact, inarguable proof of the sanctity of the word of our Lord. I jest, but I suppose there is certain charm to that. Time allowing, I should find a scholar who can be convinced to add a miracle of sturdiness to the miracles of eloquence - The Spine Which Smote the False Prophet, or some such. Humble bookbinder, your diligence was truly holy.

In any case, the Might Human span away, jaw dislocated, leaving a crack in the wall and a skulking satisfaction in my loins. That battered Qur'an fell from my hands as he rose, both no longer a necessity and a weapon I doubted would survive - this time he swayed, and could not hide it, and though by the time he took full height it had been suppressed, I had obliterated his words almost entirely. The brain is a fragile organ, even in an indestructible man. Concussion is the death of the immortal. He no longer flew.

In the absence of wit, his reply was lightning - meeting the ethereal brambles of Jonathan's stand, it flowed around me harmlessly, rerouted to the floor behind my heels. Faraday, my heart for thee.

As it cleared, the pressure in my eyes grew once again, because by then my course was clear. I charged World-first- he parried to the right, the World slipping his blow and retorting with a chopping right, and for a while they descended into a frenzied upright melee. The windows closest to us shattered in the reverberations, and the few remaining lights dislodged entirely. It was a graceless chaos of fists and knees, neither side giving meaningful ground, but although his ability to take my vicarious beatings had not diminished, I was now able to deal with his replies. I broke wherever his fists landed on my Stand, of course, a rib shattered before reforming and my knuckles skinned incessantly, but he was no longer so insurmountable as he had been. There were limits, and he was reaching them. Much more, and I could overpower him.

But not yet.

Our sojourn into the mosque had run its course. Emptied of edible inhabitants and already crumbling around us, its refuge was no longer welcome. One part confirmation and one part distraction, I dispersed my Stand and ended my assault at the precise moment the fluids of my eyes reached their crescendo, immediately replacing the World with a second volley of my hydraulic essence.

This is not relevant, but a Tibetan once named the technique Space Ripper Stingy Eyes. It may be the wine, but at present, I could not adore that more. Space Ripper Stingy Eyes. Exquisite.

Recoiling from the force of it, I could not see him leave, but the wall behind was already weakened from his impact. I'd aimed squarely at his centre of mass, directly over the fault line. If he dodged, the doorway would open regardless.

Vaas, Madripoor

"You all heard the shell monster," said Vaas, gesturing to a handful his new men. Six of them holstered their rifles and broke off to give Bowser a hand or twelve with the weight, while another four unfolded their military shovels. There were compasses, and pickaxes on the reverse of the joint. One of them seemed to have grown a picatinny rail.

"Route march, motherfuckers. Out of the city. This just turned into a funeral."

Little by little, the giant's weight eased away from Bowser's stubby arms. Cain Marko travelled to his grave on the shoulders of six fellow warriors, flanked on both sides by ten more. Nobody knew him beyond a name and a reputation, but they all knew the procedure. The procession moved in silence.

As they moved from the city to the suburbs and out into the country, the crowds parted without a word. They knew the procedure too.

Vaas and Bowser followed a few paces behind, in theory overseeing. Vaas mainly oversaw Bowser, face resting somewhere between curiosity and niggling concern.

"These guys aren't gonna stop until we tell them, so where you wanna bury this, uh, where you wanna bury Cain? He like the beach? We've got some real nice fucking beaches here, hermano. Guy lucked out if he was a Hindu, too."

edited 5th Jun '15 1:16:18 PM by OG-Sama

Bowser - Madripoor, Countryside - Dazed and Confused

As Vaas's men assisted with the impromptu "funeral procession", Bowser struggled to maintain his identity as Cain Marko's memories and Cyttorak's destructive influence continued to flood his brain. As they marched out of the city and into the country, the Koopa King was bombarded with flashes of Marko's life.

He witnessed firsthand the favoritism that the oft-absent Dr. Kurt Marko showed toward his gentle, young, and brilliant step-son, Charles Xavier, as opposed to his brutish and less intelligent biological son. He personally took out his frustrations on the young Charles. He felt the resentment that Cain felt toward Charles for his achievements. He lived Cain's time in the Army, serving alongside Charles and fighting guerrillas in southeast Asia. And then, under fire, he fled into a cave, with Charles following behind to stop his desertion . . .

"Cain! Come back, you fool! That's a court-martial offense! Cain! . . . Don't do it!"

Bowser ignored Xavier's pleading words and continued to make his way inside the cave, finding a small temple with an idol clutching a ruby. Charles, horrified, seemed to recognize it . . .

"It's the sacred, lost temple of Cyttorak! Legends have warned of it for centuries!"

Undeterred, Bowser reached out to touch the gem as Cain's voice echoed through the temple.

"That ruby . . . It looks alive! There's an inscription on it!"

As he was beginning to experience the rush of burning pleasure from the Crimson Gem once more, this time from Cain's perspective, the memory was cut short as Vaas's words snapped him back to reality.

"-you wanna bury this, uh, where you wanna bury Cain? He like the beach?"

As Vaas presented a couple of suggestions for where to bury Cain Marko, Bowser, in this moment of clarity, pondered the idea before realizing there was only one place that would truly fit.

"Cave. We're burying him in a cave."

Vaas, Madripoor Countryside

"Caves, huh?" parroted Vaas. "I mean, that's gonna be a fucking hike, but sure. Fuck it. Let's go wild."

Within earshot and used to a long string of heads of state not in the habit of giving real orders, the makeshift funeral procession glanced at their shovels before shifting gradually towards the north and the island's mountainous centre.

As the distance closed over the better part of an hour, they moved from the comparatively acceptable face of the country to the depleted fields of shallow gold that gave the Madripoor economy its short-lived late-nineties boom. The rain started soon after, characteristic for the time of year, heavy and unrelentingly refreshing.

As the thunder echoed behind them, the procession grunted through the mud and gravel of an abandoned strip mine, the graveyard for a decaying bucket-wheel excavator and the ancestral birthplace of countless generations of mosquitoes. Nature had rolled in right where the miners left off, and coated the rubble in sheets of green. If you looked closely you could see a bleached hardhat or rotted shovel poking out of the foliage, an archaeological clue dropped on the spot once the losses became undeniable, but those were the only real signs left. With no other serious bidders, this part of the island belonged to the wilds.

"Big cave coming up ahead," said Vaas, once the silence became too stifling. "Up in the mountains. Used to be a real go-to tourist trap until this little operation went to shit. That's not me, by the way, hermano. Mystique liked to read up on this bullshit. Know her country, you know."

He smiled, although he wasn't sure what at.

"I mean, crazy blue fuck didn't read up much on bulletproof vests, but fuck it, I think that one worked out just fine. I think she thought guns were for weak little human boys, or some shit like that. Never learned her fucking lesson though, 'cos the real irony there is that I cut off her fucking head. Go fig-"

Nothing. Vaas looked up, and let the rain wash him away.

"-ure. Okay, what about Cain, hermano? I know how this works, I know all the shit you get rushing inside your head, all the little memories and the little bullshit feelings. And I know the kind of motherfuckers our boss hires don't give their enemies funerals. I don't either. I've been showing you a lot of a respect here, hermano, so tell me. Return the favour. Who was this guy?"

edited 6th Jun '15 9:49:09 AM by OG-Sama