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The Game
The Gamester’s Play
part 2
By Myths n’ Wraiths
Inside the
luminously lit titanium walls of the Dogs of War headquarters, the lead members
of the group of mutants met in a long sparsely decorated conference room. Seated
at a highly polished, stainless steel conference table was a vast array of
genetic talents. Myth, a tall muscular man in his early twenties, with olive
dark skin and straight white, shoulder length hair, was located at the head of
the table. Seated at his right hand was the older, clean shaven, Lusion; a
master of psychic abilities. Next to Lusion sat a lean, muscular man with a
wildly spiked head of blonde hair, who went by the name of Anarchy Soldier and
possessed the speed and reflexes to support that alias. A busty blonde with
striking green eyes named Haven occupied the next chair; as a way of
entertaining herself she generated a glowing green orb in an outstretched hand,
expanding it and compressing it with the will of her mind. Seated at the end of
the table, in a chair that was built in the manner of a support platform sat
the intimidating form of Desimus; a man with skin darkened beyond black by the
African sun and stature not unlike a small mountain.
On the left
side of the table sat Myth’s identical twin and Vindea, both of whom had barely
finished drying off from their romp in the city. Next to the damp pair sat a
young man with neat blonde hair and a teen model face named Octive. This junior
member of the team rarely had a place in meetings of any kind and despite his
usual cocksure attitude he was obviously nervous to be sitting amongst the
senior members of this elite Super Group. He fidgeted with a pen, clicking and
rolling it between his fingers until Myth shot him a grim stare that frazzled
his nerves but stilled his hands.
“Now that
everyone has arrived,” Myth cast a sideways glance at his brother and
continued. “Let me start by saying that the mission we are about to undertake
has been given to us by Statesman himself,” At this proclamation everyone in the
room shuffled in their chairs, coming up in their seats and instantly becoming
more alert.
“We all
know about the Gamester and the tirade he has been running in our city. Or
mission is to apprehend this man before his season of fun is over and he drops
off of the radar,” Myth clicked a small remote in his hand and an image of a
brightly wrapped present flickered onto a screen behind him. The image quickly
blurred and faded back in as an overhead view of the entire city with dozens of
tiny red dots popping up throughout the various neighborhoods. “This is our
only link to the villain so far. These are the locations that people have
reported finding the Gamester’s presents. We have good reason to believe that
he is using some type teleporting technology to place his presents but whatever
it is no one has been able to trace it. Sentinel and Manticore attempted to
develop a way to trace the portals back to their source, something similar to
how cell phones are traced but whatever technology powers these deposits is
unlike anything they have ever come across before.”
“Crey
Industries has been developing portal tracking technology based off of a
damaged Rikti scanner,” Lusion interjected. “Perhaps if we could acquire a
working model of one of their scanners we could have more luck.”
“No,” Myth said
with a dismissive wave. “I don’t want to tread on broken ground. If Sentinel
and Manticore failed with this approach than we will try another.”
“This will
be the focus of our hunt,” Myth said clicking his remote again. Instantly the
topographical view of the city faded from the wall behind the Super Group’s
leader and was replaced by a deformed looking snow man with massive stubby
limbs and virtually no head. “This will be our key to tracking this guy down.”
“The snow
monsters that are left behind have no recognizable intelligence at all; how are
they going to lead us to their master?” Haven asked with a hint of confusion in
her voice.
“Everything
that we know about the Gamester tells us that the technology he is using to play
these games has been borrowed from other sources. He has tailored his game to
fit the season by using presents and snowmen but to the best of our knowledge
these things do not characterize him as a person.” Myth said setting down his
remote and taking a seat in his chair.
“So you’re
saying that whatever the Gamester’s natural abilities may be it is not
summoning snowmen.” Vindea clarified.
“That is a
reasonable assumption,” Lusion agreed. “This man definitely values his
anonymity. Remaining a mystery is as much a part of the game to him as
depositing his presents so it would seem natural that he would use foreign
technologies and abilities to prevent us from getting a glimpse of what he
really is.”
“So if we
can find out where this Gamester got his ability to summon snow creatures we
may be able to find a clue as to who he is and where he is at.” Anarchy Soldier
said in a conclusive tone.
“Well
didn’t these snow creatures come from the Winter Lord?” Vindea questioned. She
was by far the newest member to the Dogs of War elite ranks, having been
recruited into the Super Group by her solemn mentor, Desimus, only eight months
earlier. She had however, risen through the difficult ranks of this group at a
remarkable rate. Her incredible ability to generate and manipulate energy made
her a powerhouse on the battlefield, which in turn brought her the attention
and approval of her senior members despite her relative inexperience.
“Yes they
did,” Myth responded. “But I find it very unlikely that a mortal would be able
to wrestle this ability from the Winter Lord himself.”
“You’re
thinking about paying our old friend Jack Frost a visit,” Lusion said
knowingly.
“Who is
Jack Frost?” Vindea asked in a puzzled tone.
“Jack
Frost,” Desimus spoke up, for the first time since this meeting had begun, in a
voice so deep it sounded as if it came from the Earth’s core, “is troubled.”
A faint
smile sneaked onto Vindea’s lips as she stared silently down at Mandy’s
sleeping form. Despite Wraith’s misgivings she had insisted that they bring the
child back to their base instead of dropping her off at the hospital. It was
well known by everyone in the Super Group that this base was considered a
secure location, a place where only the members of the Dogs of War were allowed
to tread, but something about this young girl, something more than her pleading
innocence and fragile youth, had called out to Vindea in a way that she could
not understand.
The
elegantly shaped super heroin had no telepathic or psychic abilities and with
her trouble history of abuse and betrayal she rarely formed more than a shallow
friendship with others. She was outgoing and flirtatious enough to fool anyone
into thinking that she had nothing but the most cordial upbringing, but just
like hundreds of thousands of other people spread across the world Vindea’s
mock joy was a front for what was a far more complex existence.
She could
count on one hand the number of people she truly felt a connection with and
this girl was one of them. Despite Wraith’s reservations he did nothing to
stand in Vindea’s way when she brought the child home with her. The brooding
scrapper had an overdeveloped sense of self-preservation to put it mildly but
little use for his brother’s rules and regulations. He had carried Mandy into
the base himself, to everyone’s shock and amazement, and practically demanded
that Myth check her out for injury.
After Myth
had given Mandy a clean bill of health Vindea laid the girl down in her own bed
to recuperate. She was hoping that the child would be awake before they had to
leave on whatever wild trip that Myth had planned for them but the departure
time was drawing near and Mandy had not stirred an inch.
May I come in? Myth knocked at Vindea’s
mind with his empathic abilities.
“If by that
you mean my mind,” Vindea whispered, “then no, but if you mean my room then
come on in.”
The door
opened quietly and Myth slipped into the darkly lit room. He walked silently up
behind Vindea and glanced down at the young girl. “Her dreams are quieter now.
There is less fear in her mind,” he whispered.
Vindea’s
only response was to broaden her smile and reach down to caress the child’s
hair with a gentle touch. After a deep sigh she tucked the blankets in around
Mandy’s small form a little tighter and then she and Myth retired from the
room.
As soon as the door was closed Myth
spoke up, “I didn’t want to raise the question when you first got back-”
“Myth,
please don’t fuss at me,” Vindea cut him of pleadingly. “I know that I am not supposed
to bring anyone here but I just couldn’t leave her behind. There is something
wrong with her Myth something more than the snow creatures attack I just-“
“I know,”
Myth spoke up, resting a reassuring hand on Vindea’s shoulder. “The child has
been abused by someone very close to her.”
Vindea
gasped and raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “I knew it Myth, I don’t know
how but I knew it. So you see I couldn’t leave her at the hospital, I just
couldn’t.”
“It’s
alright Vindea. You did the right thing. We are going to help this girl when we
are able, but for right now I need to know that your head is in the game. With
your history I can understand that you are sensitive to abusive situations but
I need to know that once we get out there you are not going to choke up on me.”
Myth emanated a confident and asserting aura as he spoke and to his relief he
felt that same confidence flowing off of Vindea as well.
“Of course
Myth, look I know I am kind of new but I am with you guys all the way.” Vindea
said stepping up to Myth. “I am not going to let you down, count on it.”
“I do,”
Myth said with a grin. “Every time my life is on the line, I count on it.”
“Alright
boss,” Anarchy Soldier said tossing a tool that was about the size of a
screwdriver but looked more like a prop from a science fiction movie into a
tool box. “The Arctic beacon is deployed and the telepad is homed in.”
The lean
mutant took a step back from a console that was situated on a shimmering pad
made up of octagonal tiles. Four columns rose up in an arch over the pad,
meeting in the center where a concave disk was suspended. Anarchy looked the
machine over one more time then nodded his head in satisfaction. “We’re ready
to go.”
Myth spared
a quick glance at the telepad then went to look over his crew. Each was dressed
in white, cold-weather outfits, complete with heavy parkas, goggles, ski masks
and thick snow boots. Each member was going over their outfits methodically
checking each pocket and strap as they waited for the call to action.
The only team member that still
wore his traditional attire was Desimus. The hulking mutant’s resistance to the
elements would make even the coldest of environments seem like a summer breeze.
A quick mental check told Myth that, as always, the invulnerable mutant’s mood
was as firm as his skin.
Myth’s mind moved around the room
checking the rest of his team as they all finished going over their outfits.
Each one emanated their own peculiar emotions but they all had one thing in
common. All of them had the same anxious energy built up, boiling just under
their skin. Like hounds on leashes just before they are released for the hunt
each and every member was an animal ready to stalk, ready to pounce, ready to
make the kill. Octive, despite the fact that this was his first mission as a
part of the team, had abandoned the nervous fidgeting he had been doing in the
briefing and now sat still and quiet on a component container with a focused
smirk on his face. He had not yet been inducted into their elite ranks but Myth
would not have guessed that by looking at him now.
“Alright
everyone time to move out,” Myth said zipping his own parka and stepping on to
the telepad. The rest of the team fixed their goggles in place and began to
move onto the pad.
“I hate
wearing all this crap,” Anarchy Soldier mumbled shrugging on his jacket and
following the others onto the pad. “It’s too bulky; slows me down.”
“You think
that parka slows you down?” Wraith said gruffly. “Just imagine how slow you
would be moving after spending two minutes in the Arctic without it.”
“Nice to
see everyone is getting along as usual,” Haven giggled and rolled her eyes.
“Well if I
start to get cold I know where I can go to get some hot air,” Anarchy shot back
at his two partners.
“Save it
for Jack Frost, people,” Myth snapped at his crew and quickly hit the
initiation button on the telepad before anyone had a chance to respond.
“HOLY
CRRRRAAAPPP!” Octive spat out involuntarily when the negative degree air
slammed into his lungs like a wrecking ball. Before he even had time to think
about his situation the moisture on his eyes began to frost under his
protective goggles and he had to clench his eyes shut to keep them from
freezing open. If that wasn’t enough the sudden gust of wind nearly knocked the
unprepared mutant off of his feet and onto the icy, wind-swept ground.
Haven
wasted no time in casting a large, protective force field around the team,
instantly killing the blasting wind, but to Octive the relief couldn’t come fast
enough. Even with the protection from the brutal wind he was beginning to
shiver under his thick clothing and it quickly became a struggle not to let his
teeth chatter obnoxiously.
Myth
reached out with his mind, instinctively checking all of his team to confirm
that everyone had made it. Not that anyone ever didn’t make it when they
teleported anywhere but Myth’s repetitive habits had saved him more than once
in battle and he relied on them as much as he relied on his breathing.
When he was
satisfied that everyone had survived the trip in mint condition, his mind
joined his eyes to focus on the single object that broke the even, luminous
horizon. Nearly a quarter mile to the North of their location a massive,
glittering, white ziggurat protruded form the frozen landscape. The entire
structure looked to be made of ice and snow. As the wind whipped around the
ziggurat, a mist of snow lifted off of the six regressive levels, blurring the
outline of the structure against the white skyline. A towering gate occupied
the side of the ziggurat that faced the small team. Two glacial pillars rose up
on each side of the gate, supporting crude images of a large grim face.
“This would
be the place,” Myth shouted over the sound of wind that howled outside of their
protective bubble. After one final glance over his people he began to lead the
way over the icy landscape.
Deciding to
make things easy on herself, Vindea called on her ability to defy gravity and
floated up into the air, coming back down to perch on Desimus’s broad shoulder.
If the tank noticed the slender blonde, that was now resting next to his head
with her legs crossed elegantly, he made no sign of it.
Few people
presumed on Desimus for any reason, due mostly to the fact that his mood
normally came across as grim as his face, but Vindea and the tank had a long
history of supporting each other in their own separate ways. Desimus had
mentored the young blaster since she had made her début in Paragon. For reasons
that she never quite understood Desimus took her under his wing, though he
seemed reluctant to do so, and had even recruited her into the ranks of the
Dogs of War. This was no small gesture of confidence since the group had
enlisted only two other members over the past year.
“So big guy,”
Vindea whispered into Desimus’s ear. “What’s the deal with this Frost guy?”
“He is a
cultist of the Winter Lord, a devoted servant to the demi-god, whose figure
guards his door,” Desimus said nodding at the face that topped the pillars at
either side of the gate. “After the Winter Lord was vanquished last year this
particular follower tried to carry on his master’s plan for another ice age.
Despite his fervor Jack Frost was sadly unprepared for the task.”
“So the
Dogs have tangled with this guy before?” Vindea asked with a hint of pride
edging into her voice.
“We
apprehended him when he tried to unleash a blizzard over Talos Island. At the
time we did not have the means to detain him so we vanquished him to
Antarctica,” Desimus said in his deep native accent.
“So this
should be a piece of cake,” Vindea shrugged. “I mean you guys owned this guy
before and now you have me with you.” Her voice was almost chirpy despite the
oppressing cold.
“When we
defeated him in the past it was while he was on our own ground. Now we will
face him in his domain and where he is most powerful.” Desimus countered. “I
expect Myth will try to reach a peaceful resolution.”
Vindea
frowned and shrugged. “But even if it does come down to a fight, we can handle
it right?”
“We will do
what we must,” Desimus responded in an even tone. Vindea sighed in frustration
and considered elbowing the tanker in the ear as a penalty for his grasp of the
obvious, but reconsidered the action when she remembered that his earlobe was probably
harder than titanium.
In the
eight months she had spent with the Dogs of War Vindea had seen the band of
mutants accomplish the impossible more times than she could recall. The idea
that there was a fight that they could not win seemed unreal. As they made
their way toward Jack’s lair, Vindea looked at each of her team members. Each
person held within them more experience and ability than Vindea could imagine
but something about the way Desimus spoke brought a shred of doubt into her
mind.
Finally her
eyes settled on Wraith, who was prowling at the head of the team, the doubt melted
away and was replaced by a warmth that defied the insufferable cold of the
arctic air. “We can handle it,” she said confidently and slid off of Desimus’s
shoulder.
It took the
team almost eight minutes to reach their destination. Despite the relatively
short distance to their goal, the desolate terrain made a struggle of the hike.
At times the wind picked up enough snow to completely cover Haven’s force
field, blinding the entire crew to the outside world. Their footprints, once
they passed outside the bubble, disappeared almost instantly in the constantly
shifting ice.
“Well
Desimus,” Myth spoke up once they reached the frozen gate. “Let’s be polite and
knock before we go in.”
Desimus stepped up to the gate and
pounded on its craggy surface with enough force to crack the thick ice. The
sound of the mutants flat palm slamming against the ice echoed out into the
blustering wind and could be heard bouncing off the walls on the other side of
the huge portal.
The frustration here is stifling. Lusion
projected to Myth. This creature was
always easily aggravated but this, this is something more, something deeply
personal. The psychic held his eyes half shut and his face pointed up into
the air, much like a hound sniffing for a scent. Even without his empathic
abilities, Myth new that Lusion’s sixth sense was focused to an unearthly
degree. The mentalist’s mind was like a surgical instrument and a broad sword
all in one, both reaching into the most narrow and obscure crevices of thought
and brutally crushing the strongest mental defenses with equal proficiency.
Yes, I feel it. Someone has stolen something
from him, insulted him and robbed him. Myth responded as he recognized the
base human emotions that were seeping out of the massive structure before them.
This will not be easy.
Desimus paused for a brief
moment while waiting for his nonverbal request to be answered. After almost
half a minute he repeated his action and again waited for an answer.
“It’s not
nice to keep visitors waiting.” Anarchy mumbled and rolled his eyes.
“You think?”
Wraith shot the man a confused look. “And just how many visitors you suppose he
gets out here?”
“What is
with you two?” Octive asked, daring to step in between his veteran counter
parts. The young mutant had begun to flap his arms and pace about in an effort
to fight off the life-defying temperature but the cold was really starting to
get to him. Having never been in a climate unlike that of his home city, the
very act of making it to the gate of Jack Frost’s ice fortress had been a trial
in and of itself for the junior hero. The strain of this new environment had
begun to take its toll on Octive’s mind.
Anarchy
Soldier and Wraith both shot Octive a mildly annoyed glance. The former paced
away, eyeing the solid ice structure they stood before, hoping to spy an
alternate entrance; while the latter simply shook his head.
“It is
nothing personal Octive,” Haven said, trying her best to throw on a warm smile.
“Sometimes people just don’t get along,” She continued in a motherly tone that
made Octive feel more than a little patronized.
“That is an
understatement if there ever was one,” Anarchy countered after giving up his
search for another entrance. “But battle forms strange friendships.” With that
the lean mutant shot a wry glance at Wraith. “This right here means nothing.”
He continued, gesturing to their surroundings. “Only what goes on in there
matters,” Anarchy pointed to the ziggurat.
Octive
stared blankly at Anarchy, convinced that his own brain fluids were starting to
freeze over. The words rolled around in the gifted mutants head but no matter
how hard he thought on them their meaning escaped him.
“Uh-hu,” He finally muttered
through chattering teeth.
“I think
the time for courtesy is over,” Myth spoke up, his clear demanding voice
cutting through the howling wind.
“Say the
word boss,” Vindea spoke up, her hands beginning to glow with radiant energy.
“I have got the master key.”
“No,” Myth
said, staying Vindea with a word and a gesture. “Octive, you’re up.”
“Me?”
Octive questioned doubtfully.
“If Vindea
lets loose on this door she is likely to melt a hole clean through the
building. I don’t want to ruin the guy’s furniture, just make a doggy door.”
Myth said, waving for Octive to come up to the door. “Take your time and find
the right frequency. Then, when you’re ready, give a short controlled burst to
knock a hole in the door.” He coached his junior member.
Octive
didn’t buy that explanation for one second but mustered his conficence anyway
and stepped up to the task. Myth always had his reasons and if Octive knew
nothing else, he knew never to question the boss. He walked up to the
shimmering icy gate and eyed it with the look of a young boy about to knock
over a house of cards that his little sister had just spent hours building.
Daring the freezing air, Octive pulled off one of his gloves and brushed the
tips of his fingers against the barrier. Then with an arrogant smirk on his
face he turned to Desimus.
“Snap your
fingers,” he said with a nod. The heavy mutant obliged his slighter comrade
without hesitation.
The sound of Desimus’ fingers
snapping could be heard like a gunshot over the constant voluble air but to
Octive it was more than heard. His gift came alive, allowing him to see, smell,
taste, and even touch the sound waves as easily as if they were waves in a
pond. He felt the waves collide with the ice, causing the frozen matter to
vibrate in response. These waves were what Octive homed in on, measuring them
with his sixth sense so that he could replicate their seismic opposite.
“Again,” Octive instructed and
again Desimus complied. This time Octive reached into the waves with his mind
and body, bending them, compressing them and stretching them in a fraction of a
second; manipulating them into the perfect tune, which he channeled through himself
and into the wall of ice that his fingers were still touching.
There was
no crash, no explosion, no grandeur; the area roughly six feet around Octive’s
touch simply disintegrated into a mist of icy dust. A slight draft flowed out
of the ziggurat, picking up the cloud of dust and carrying it out around
Octive’s feet.
Myth nodded
his approval. “Don’t forget that frequency,” He whispered as he passed by
Octive and entered through the newly formed hole.
The team
filed in after their leader, with Desimus taking up point behind Myth, ready to
bound forward on a moments notice. Next followed the less resilient members of
the team and finally, Anarchy and Wraith formed the rear guard.
Once
inside, the structure opened immediately into a vast chasm of a chamber that
accounted for the entire space of the ziggurat. Its walls sloped smoothly up to
a rough ceiling and were inscribed with intelligible runes that bore
resemblance to snowflakes in both their appearance and that fact that no two of
them seemed to be alike.
Colossal icy stalagmites hung from
the ceiling, some of which were more than twenty feet long. Like great
chandeliers, they caught the light from a small opening in the center of the
roof and cast it throughout the entire chamber. Immense columns lined the
chamber in six perfect rows and around each column lay a mound of snow which
had drifted in from the opening in the ceiling.
Myth led his
team unhesitatingly toward the northern end of the chamber, where a shrine of
clear smooth ice had been made. Before the shrine, bent on trembling knees and
with his back turned toward the group, was a small, withered, blue skinned man.
His face and arms were turned upward and a noise that sounded like ice shards being
scraped together emanated from his throat.
The Dogs of
War approached to within a few meters of the small man without interrupting his
worship. Once he felt they had come close enough; however, Myth issued a mental
command for his team to halt. As always the crew obeyed and instinctively began
to group up into defensive positions, with Desimus and the two scrappers
forming a perimeter around their companions.
“Seeking
penance Jack?” Myth broke into Jack Frost’s incantation with a question that
sounded more like a command. “I can’t imagine your master being too pleased
when he found out you let some else take control of his minions.”
The incantations
ceased immediately at the sound of Myth’s voice and Jack slowly lowered his
hands and face until they hung limply and forlornly. “No peace, not even here
in this lifeless land; there is no peace.” He muttered in raspy dry voice that
seemed to be born from its icy surroundings.
“Why have you come to torment me
mutant?” Jack snapped as he turned to fix Myth in a spiteful glare.
“You know
why we are here Jack. Someone has stolen the ritual from you and is unleashing
your creatures on Paragon without your master’s consent.” Myth said, returning
Jack’s glare with a steady gaze.
“The unholy
wretch,” Jack spat involuntarily.
“We want
you to help us find the man responsible,” Myth continued.
“Why should
I help you? You have disgraced me, and exiled me to this solitude. You are
responsible for this whole situation!” Jack shouted, coming to his feet and
pointing a bony blue finger at Myth.
From the
tip of his frosty white hair to his bare pail feet, Jack stood a mere five foot
tall. He was clothed in patches of frost that, when combined with his long icy
beard, barely generated a degree of modesty for the boney little man.
“As long as
the Gamester misuses your creatures you can hold no favor with your master.”
Myth countered, pulling on his empathic ability to try and calm Jack’s outrage
and hold his mind to a calmer line of reason.
Jack seemed
to ponder Myth’s words for a moment. He wrapped his arms around his narrow
chest and glared down his long beak of a nose while cocking one frosty eyebrow.
“On the other hand when the Gamester is done playing his little game he will
have no use of my master’s minions and will cease to use them on his own
accord, and I think that offering you and your team as sacrifices will be more
than enough to gain my redemption,” The frosty mastermind said with a wicked
grin.
The small man placed a finger to
one of his nostrils and, after taking a deep breath, blew out an unearthly gust
of wind from his nose. The gale filled the entire chamber in seconds, casting
up the mounds of snow that surrounded the massive columns into a blizzard of
flying ice.
When the
wind settled the small team of mutants was surrounded by dozens of Winter
Lords. They ranged in size from knee high to nearly ten feet tall. One in
particular cleared nearly twenty feet high and looked to be almost as broad.
Myth did not have time to issue any commands before the fight ensued but with a
team as experienced as The Dogs of War there wasn’t really any need.
The mobs of
snow creatures surged on to the besieged group of heroes, with the smaller
creatures leaping into the air, trying to land on their victims and pin them
down. A quick burst of protective green energy from Haven slammed into the
underlings before they could reach the team and tossed them back into the midst
of their larger counterparts. The burst reached its apex and stabilized into a
green bubble that held their assaulters at bay temporarily. While Haven could
easily guard the team against the underlings, the larger Winter Lords were
another matter entirely and none of the mutants were willing to wait for the
snow beasts to have a chance to break their refuge.
Desimus
lunged into the pressing ranks of ice and hate that were arrayed against the
team from the north. His hulking black form stood in stark contrast to the
waves of pure white Winter Lords. The massive limbs he wielded moved in time
with some primal rhythm that beat in the tanks heart. His leg crushed his
smaller victims, stomping them into loose piles of drifting snow. His
unstoppable form pressed toward the monster Winter Lord that defended the altar.
From every
other direction a wall of vicious ice pressed in on Haven’s force field, slowly
pushing in on the powerful bubble of energy with their combined weight and strength.
Wraith and Anarchy; however, had no intention of taking any shelter in this
fight. The pair broke out in opposite direction, Wraith taking the south-east
side while Anarchy stayed to the south-west. Combined with Desimus’ rampage on
the north side, the three brawlers formed a triangle defense around their
fellow heroes.
From within
the green aura of protection a spectacle of deadly energies lanced out in all
directions. With a mental coaxing from their leader, Octive and Vindea provided
support for Desimus as he waded through the throng of minions that stood
between him and the towering monster that protected the altar. Octive sent
sonic waves out as fast as his mind could control them, to soften the snow
creatures’ stability and allow Desimus to smash them with little or no effort.
Vindea, staying true to her calling, sent blasts of brilliant energy to
incinerate the smaller creatures that attempted to slow her mentor’s progress.
To her
dismay however, her blasts did not have the destructive effect that they had on
the Winter Lords she had confronted earlier in the day. In her previous fight
she had been able to blast through multiple creatures at once. Now she was
barely able to destroy even the smallest ones without using multiple attacks.
“These are
stronger than the ones we faced before,” She shouted over the fray of battle.
“Aim for
the area below their head,” Myth ordered those with ranged attacks. “If you
destroy their chest they will lose the use of both arms.”
Vindea set
her slender jaw and tried to focus her skills enough to target the Winter
Lords’ core but there were so many of them she could barely tell where one
ended and another started.
Fear crept
through the adrenaline that flowed in Vindea’s veins. After a few frustrating
moments of trying to pick apart her targets with well aimed shots she abandoned
the tactic and settled for a powerhouse effect. The young blaster unleashed her
abilities in full force, letting the energy flow from her hands and into the
target rich environment with a reckless abandon.
Stay focused, Myth’s calming presence
pierced her mind and instantly snapped her back into purpose. Desimus needs you.
With
renewed focus Vindea resumed her support role, destroying whatever target
seemed the most threatening to her beleaguered friend. Even with her renewed
determination she could not help but spare a glance to the south-west whenever
she felt herself faltering.
Wraith
unleashed a relentless barrage of negative energy on his assailants, draining
the life essence of even the largest of the Winter Lords. He leapt up onto the shoulders
of one snow creature and pummeled its head until there was nothing left but a
cratered set of shoulders.
He jumped
clear of the dismembered Winter Lord just in time to avoid being crushed by a
set of massive icy arms. Wraith hit the ground and spun around to meet his new
attacker head on, driving a devastating upper cut into its extended left arm
and severing it at the shoulder. Then, putting the full force of his body behind
his blow, he drove into the Winter Lord’s abdomen with a hook, cutting the
abdomen from the legs.
Anticipating
the next attack, Wraith spun around just in time to see a smaller minion
leaping towards him. He braced himself and cocked back his right fist,
preparing to meet the meager threat with extreme prejudice. The minion never
made contact however; just before Wraith was about to attack, the creature
vaporized in a heavy blast of dark energy.
Wraith
turned in the direction the blast had come from to see his brother staring at
him from behind the energy field; traces of negative energy still clung to his
fingers. Annoyed at having his fight interrupted Wraith shot his twin an
aggravated glare before continuing his assault.
Blowing off
his brother’s ingratitude Myth spared a moment to check on Haven. The enchanting
defender’s eyes clenched shut in focused concentration. Despite the biting cold
sweat was pouring down her face.
Hold the line baby, He said, using his
abilities to manipulate human emotions and physical reactions to heighten her
focus and ease her mental stress.
“There’s to
many Myth,” Haven gasped. “I can’t hold a field this large for long.”
As if
Haven’s fatigue were not enough reason for concern, a sudden guttural cry broke
through the noise of battle followed almost instantly by Desimus’s massive form
crashing back into the midst of his bewildered team.
“The
monster’s on a rampage!” Octive shouted and, for reason’s that probably didn’t
even make sense in his own mind, pointed at the massive Winter Lord that was
now charging the team.
“Pull
West!” Myth commanded after checking to ensure that Desimus was not seriously
injured. “Use the wall for shelter.”
Without
hesitation Wraith leapt to the western wall and began to assail the creatures that
occupied the area, thinning their numbers in anticipation of his team’s
arrival. Anarchy followed him at a distance in an attempt to carve a path for
their retreat, with the help of Octive’s ranged support.
Desimus,
having recovered from his first encounter with the monster, charged back into
the mass of Winter Lords to confront the beast once again. His mighty arms
flung the lesser snow creatures out of his path with ease as he approached his
target. As soon as he drew close enough to attack however; a blast of unearthly
cold air swept over Desimus’s body, freezing his huge form instantly in a
craggy block of solid ice.
A wicked
laugh cut through the air and Jack Frost jumped up and perched himself on
Desimus’s frozen form. “Kill them!” The small man shouted to his monstrous
minion.
The beast
charged the now cornered group of mutants with a reckless disregard; its
massive legs crushed handfuls of the lesser minions with each giant stride.
Both of its giant arms were held high over its head, ready for a killing blow.
“Brace
yourself Haven!” Myth shouted when he saw the monster’s arms come crashing down
toward them.
Haven
glared at her attacker with eyes that radiated with brilliant emerald energy
and raised both of her hands, palms open and facing upward, as a silent ward
against the attack.
A glacial
grinding echoed through the air when the monster’s arms slammed into the
protective barrier. Haven gasped in silent agony and cringed at the blow but
still her barrier held.
Undeterred
the giant beast leaned heavily on the force field, bowing the green bubble and
slowly crushing its center towards the slender woman that held it in place. A
scream of exertion escaped Haven’s lips as the two huge arms pressed closer and
closer to her. She stumbled for her footing then, mustering all her strength,
thrust upward with every ounce of her energy. The force field burst up with
such force that the monsters forearms were torn from its elbows and sent
spiraling across the room.
Exhaustion
took Haven almost instantly and she fell into Myth’s arms. The emerald glow of
energy that had been radiating from her eyes faded like smoke from a dyeing
fire as her mind slipped into darkness.
Before the
snow monster could recover its footing Wraith was already pressing their meager
advantage. The Hell bent scrapper lunged directly into the snow beast’s face,
pummeling what crude features it had into a lump of deformed mush and driving
the Winter Lord to its knees.
Myth’s mind
spun as he took in their circumstances. Haven was down but not out. Even with
his aid however, she would not be strong enough to bring her force field back
up for some time. Desimus would more than likely be able to free himself soon
but ‘soon’ was not going to be soon enough. There was still more than thirty
snow creatures surrounding them and they had no means of defense. Wraith had
managed to take the giant Winter Lord down but whether or not he could keep him
down while Jack Frost was on the scene was far from certain.
Gritting
his teeth and shaking his head Myth looked to the junior member of his team and
thought to himself, I hope this works.
“Octive,”
He shouted over the noise of the raging fight. “Remember that wave length you
used to get through the door?”
“Y-yes,”
The young mutant stammered as he blasted the arms off of a snow creature that
just had its limbs wrapped around his waist.
“Use it.
But this time give it everything you’ve got!” Myth ordered.
“But-“
“Trust me,”
The seasoned mutant commanded in a tone that seamed unusually calm considering.
With more
than a little uncertainty showing in his face Octive reached out with his mind
and began to manipulate the sound waves that were cascading through the air
into the exact wave length he had used on the ziggurats gate. Almost instantly
the walls and pillars that were around the besieged team began to slowly fade
into dust. In a matter of seconds the massive stalagmites that hung from the
roof began to break free from their housing and came crashing down around Myth
and his desperate team.
“What are
you doing?” Jack Frost shouted over the sound of the huge ice crystals smashing
on the frozen ground.
“Call it
off Jack!” Myth demanded in a commanding tone that defied his desperate
circumstances. The small man nearly went into a tantrum, stomping his feet on
Desimus’s frozen form and swinging his arms wildly.
His tirade
was cut short when an ice cycle the size of a small tree landed barely a foot
in front of his long crooked nose. The explosion of ice shards sent Jack
sprawling to the ground and broke Desimus free from his frozen prison.
In a
testament to his amazing resilience Desimus forced himself into action almost
immediately and, wrapping one powerful hand around Jack’s lean neck, lifted the
lean little man up over his head.
“Enough,
enough already.” Jack choked through his constricted throat.
With one
quick mental command Myth leashed The Dogs of War. Octive gladly ceased his
suicidal song; Wraith vanquished the crazed look from his eyes and ceased his
rampage, and Desimus slowly set Jack down on his blue skinned feet.
“So,” Myth
said, brushing loose ice from his parka. “You ready to play nice now?”
Are you certain? Myth questioned Lusion
mentally. The entire team was lurking in the shadow of a water tower on the
East side of Crey’s Folly. Myth and his telepathically gifted friend stood at
the head of the group eyeing a rusted out warehouse complex that had once been
used by Crey Industries as some sort of manufacturing plant.
It has been difficult to track him this far
but now that we are here there is no doubt. Lusion projected with the
utmost confidence.
After their
near victory against Jack Frost the crazed cultist had allowed Lusion take from
his memories the knowledge of the man that had tricked him into giving up the
secret to his minions. Those memories not only showed Lusion the Gamester’s
face but also his mind, or at least the limited aspects that Jack Frost’s
subconscious could perceive.
After
nearly thirty hours of continuously scouring Paragon City the psychic
bloodhound had finally homed in on the mind he had been looking for. We have found the Gamester. Lusion
signaled to everyone in the group.
Abandoning
his mental focus, Lusion opened his eyes and searched the buildings exterior.
“That door over there is closest to him. It should make for the most direct
entrance.” He said pointing to a small entrance on the corner of the building.
“Let’s
move,” Myth agreed. As was his custom he took point and began to lead the way
toward the decrepit old structure but before they reached the door the city
alert system sounded, filling the air with an obnoxious droning alarm. The
alarm was soon replaced however, by the voice of a man.
“Greetings,
citizens of Paragon City. As your newly appointed mayor and benefactor-“
“It’s him,”
Anarchy muttered more to himself than his team.
“We need to
move quickly,” Myth agreed picking up a slight jog and continuing toward the
warehouse.
Just before he made the door
however; he felt a horrendous tug at his thoughts. The voice had stopped its
preaching and had been replaced by a strange tune that seemed to demand
something of his body and mind.
A quick look around him showed that
he was not alone, his entire team, with the exception of Lusion and himself,
were dancing in time with the unusual music. Myth and Lusion both wasted no
time in using their mental abilities to free their companions from the hold of
the music.
“What was that?” Vindea gasped once
she was able to still her body.
“Some sort of mind control,” Myth
ventured a safe assumption. “He must be broadcasting it across the entire
city.”
“Yes,” Lusion spoke up. “But it is
not having the desired affect.”
All eyes turned toward Lusion, who
had his eyes closed and bore a strange smile on his face. “We must hurry
though,” He warned, opening his eyes and nodding toward the building.
Moments later the team had entered
the warehouse and they were making their way through the narrow corridors
toward the mental residual that Lusion had homed in on. Their path soon entered
a large empty room that, unlike the rest of the building, had been painted in
colorful panels of red yellow and green.
Out of instinct Myth slowed when he
reached the room and signaled for Desimus to move up. Understanding his
leader’s mental reservations the tank preceded into the room. After making it
over half way across the strangely decorated chamber without incident the rest
of the team began to follow their large friend.
No sooner had the last person made it
through the door than both the entrance and the exit slammed shut. The sound of
metal grinding on the outside of the doors said that both passages were sealed.
Panels along the side of the walls
snapped out of place and fell to the floor, revealing the muzzles of six
massive cannons. The team barely had time to even recognize their danger before
the room exploded with cannon fire. Massive iron balls filled the room,
trapping the heroes in their deadly line of fire.
Haven tried to throw up a protective
field around the team but the cannon balls slammed into the bubble before she
had a chance to stabilize it. The emerald field collapsed as quickly as it was
created, sending Haven’s mind reeling from the deadly impact.
Myth jumped to Haven’s side and
began to flood her mind with his regenerative abilities but was stopped cold when
a projectile clipped his shoulder. Even though it was grazing shot, the impact
of the cannon ball on soft flesh nearly ripped Myth’s shoulder from his neck.
He was sent sprawling to the floor in a trail of blood and agony.
Darkness reached into Myth’s mind
and threatened to drag him mercilessly into unconsciousness. With no other
option remaining to him, Myth used his last ounce of strength to key his
Emergency Teleport System transponder and disappeared in a flash of light.
Desimus managed to catch one of the
cannon balls in his unforgiving hands and sent it hurling back at the cannon it
had been launched from. The weapon’s barrel splintered from the impact and when
it attempted to fire its next round the entire cannon exploded into a heap of
smoldering metal.
After making his way to Haven’s
unconscious form and keying her ETS transponder, Lusion attempted to redirect
the cannons in a similar manner with his mind. He never had a chance to employ
his telekinetic though. No sooner had he keyed Haven’s transponder than two
cannon balls collided in mid air only a few feet from Lusion. The resulting
explosion peppered the psychic with deadly bits of shrapnel and sent him flying
across the room.
Anarchy Soldier came to his
companion’s aid by breaking Lusion’s fall with his own body. The scrapper
recovered from the impact with amazing speed and a blindingly quick motion from
Anarchy sent Lusion to the nearest hospital to join Haven and Myth.
Wraith
managed to make his way to the side of the room where he slid up underneath the
barrel of one of the giant cannons. Mustering all his might and calling on the
dark energies that he held mastery over, Wraith struck the bottom of the
barrel. The angle of the cannons barrel rose on its mount a small degree but it
was enough to force the next shot to hit the inside of the wall instead of
flying through the room. Wraith tried clear of the area just as the cannon
exploded but was not fast enough to avoid the searing flames that licked at his
back.
Vindea
returned fire on the cannons, taking out three of the weapons in short order.
She turned to finish up the last of the weapons but found herself staring down
its massive barrel. Panic gripped her soul and her heart pounded out a single
beat so hard it made her chest heave.
Paralyzed
by fear Vindea did not even have the presence of mind to close her eyes in the
face of death. If she had she would have missed seeing a giant black hand,
which seemed to come from nowhere, swat the cannon ball out of the air mere
feet from her trembling form.
Desimus
charged the last cannon with a roar of anger and challenge. The tank gripped
the barrel of the cannon in his hands and crushed the five inch thick steel
like it was a role of cardboard. The cannon erupted on its next shot with
Desimus still holding the barrel in his vice like grip. The invulnerable giant
let the scorching heat and lethal hunks of flying metal wash over him with
indifference. When the eruption subsided Desimus was still standing in front of
the wall, holding what was left of the barrel in his unbreakable grip.
With the
dust settling in the death trap, the team began to look around to take count of
each other. Anarchy quickly noticed Octive huddling in a corner, his eyes
closed and his mouth hanging open.
“What the,”
Anarchy muttered in frustration. After a burst of surreal speed Anarchy was
standing over the seemingly catatonic mutant and was ready to snatch him up by
the neck. He was not a particularly callus man but after seeing his friends
being torn apart in front of his eyes Anarchy was disgusted to find that this
man had been cowering in the corner the entire time.
“No!”
Vindea stopped Anarchy with a single word. “Listen to the music.” She said
tossing her blond locks away from her ears. Anarchy listened for a moment and
to his surprise the song that seized their minds earlier now sounded quieter
and sporadic, like it was playing through a broken speaker.
“It’s Octive,”
Vindea continued. “I’ve heard him do it before. He can cancel out sounds by
creating the exact opposite sound waves. He must be having a hard time hearing
it after all that noise.”
“He’s been
protecting us since Myth and Lusion went down,” Anarchy spoke in shock. He did
not have to mention that if his young teammate had not taken action when he did
the entire team would have been entranced by the music once again, which would
have forced them to dance helplessly in the middle of deadly cannon fire. “This
kid just saved our lives.”
“Keep an
eye on him,” Wraith said, smoke still rising in wisps from his badly singed
back. “It’s time to finish this.”
Anarchy
nodded in agreement. “Go ahead. I’ll make sure no one disturbs him.”
Desimus
peeled the steel door that blocked their way off of its hinges with ease,
making way for Wraith to enter the room they had struggled so hard to reach.
Once inside the mutant quickly picked out the form of a middle aged,
non-descript man standing over a console and speaking into a small microphone.
To their mild surprise he seemed to be wearing only a pair of shorts.
The man
turned to face the battered team with a look of bewilderment. His eyes widened
when he saw the look of rage that radiated from Wraith’s eyes. “What the hell
are you doing?” He gasped before Wraith’s fist closed on his throat, cutting
off all speech.
The singed
scrapper did not bother using his dark energies to subdue the villain; he did
not employ his deadly fighting skills or even bother to ball up his fists. He simply
took his time beating the Gamester sensless, tossing him through every piece of
equipment that looked as if it might cause pain in the process. Eventually
Wraith managed to send the Gamester crashing through a wrack filled with recording
equipment and the music that had been broadcasting across the city suddenly
stopped.
Vindea turned her face away to
shield herself from the flying debris that Wraith’s tirade was causing and
noticed a young boy huddled in the corner of the room.
“Are you
OK?” Vindea cried as she ran to the boy’s side.
“Y-yes, I
think so,” The boy stammered.
“What’s
your name darling?” The beautiful blonde asked as she cradled the young boys
head in her slender arms.
“J-jack, my
n-name is jack and I w-want to go home.” The boy was nearly in tears.
“Don’t you
worry none. This man won’t be able to harm you anymore and well get you home
real soon.” She spoke in a calming voice while stroking his hair.
In a rare moment of pleasure,
Desimus’s callus face broke into a slight smile as he watched Wraith brutalize
the man that had caused the city so much pain and nearly killed his friends.
After taking his fill of the action the tank picked up the microphone the
Gamester had been using and spoke his mind.
“The Game
is over.”
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