Chapter VI - Asunder

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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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"Go, go, go!" was all Tom replied, something in his urgency inspiring their new allies into motion. The Pit's coating of heat soon gave way to the cool air and fine dust of the slightly-disturbed bunker levels of the tower, those who'd already taken refuge giving the newcomers wide-eyed stares. One of them, an anthro pig, spoke up as soon as he saw Aislinn and Tom.

"The Biggses and the other succubi and incubi all sent us down here once the lawyer's penthouse depressurized," he said. "The weird bug-thing and the space lady are three levels up above; I think they selectively collapsed a few levels while leaving the aeration ducts clear so we wouldn't choke to death. They told us Bertram Miles could break us out once the coast would be clear."

Tom nodded. "Where's Weasel and Al now?
- Holding the second line in the main atrium," the pig said. "Some of Grimley's vampires were with us, they sort of collapsed when the ground shook - Alora says they're too old, they depend too much on the local Nexus to affect unlife. Now it's like they're comatose or asleep, and their breathing's getting shallower by the minute."

The warthog wasn't surprised. "Right, we knew this was a risk. Horatio and Arthur both know it, too. I don't have better news to bring, though - Providence is gone, at least for now. I had my own contacts across the highway - they had shelters of their own. Harrison Arkham's still got an agenda of his own, so he'll have every reason to have prepped more of them."

Stunned silence opposed him, not not choosing to let the locals stew in their grief. "Someone take Marius to Alora, she'll need a pick-me-up and we'll all need a way back out!"

A female voice rang out from the rear, a bit thready but still strong. "Here!" it said, a tiny bit of a European Romani accent clinging to it. I am... here."

The crowd parted. Alora the Snake Woman looked as striking as ever, even if her diminished state did her no favors. Her period 1930s 'do was a frizzy mess of yellowing, dying hair standing atop necrotizing flesh and too-wide eyes that looked like they were pushing against the sleep of death with all their might. Two IV poles were tethered to her using needles and tubes, her body now consuming blood faster than the IV bags could supply it. What had probably been a genuine case of ichtyosis in life had become tangible lizardlike scales in undeath, layers of it now looking frail and brittle as freshly exposed epidermis looked like it had died as soon as it had been exposed to the open air.

"Was Providence nuked?" asked someone, to which Tom winced in pain and glanced back at Marius. "I don't think so - this is different. I'll get a better read once I'm back topside, but I think the Goat's co-opted old, cockamamie designs from the Space Force years. I'm thinking Space Hammer, but with a Brimstone pillar."

An allied female demon gasped. "That means he's opened a rift in the upper troposphere, at least; and some of my brethren use these natural pillars for shade in the Pit's borderlands. He's killing thousands of my kind for every one of these he'll launch; they'll get sucked into space and burn on the way down!"

One of Paimon's lieutenants grunted and visibly refrained himself from driving his fists through a table covered in food boxes and clothes. His massive finger joints still popped, however, as his fingers curled. "Why?" he asked. "What happened between Wormsworth's lodgings being destroyed and your returning here?! What did we miss?!"

Riona's eyes never wavered. "Hope," she whispered. "Its light dims - it will wink to mere embers as the precipice draws near - and then the fire is stoked once more."

Tom snarled, curled his fingers together and turned to face Riona, looking just about ready to threaten her into being straightforward, before his better judgment won out and had him sigh. "But there's more to light than fires and embers, isn't there?" he asked.

Riona nodded. "For now, all you can do - all you must do - is survive. Survive long enough for the one who brings light to carry out his judgment. Then, the remaining pieces will be set. Then, the game will end."

* * *

There was no time for disco lights or self-gratifying revelry. Lucifer was absent one moment and walked out of one of the right angles formed by the corner of one of ventilation units the next, causing the Goat to slowly look to him.

"You, now," the Goat sneered quietly. "You, as I drown what should have been rightfully mine and doom this realm to subsisting as a mere outback of an outpost, alone against the raging cosmos! Why now?! Have you come to approve of me so insultingly late?"

The Lightbringer manifested his trident and pointed it at the Goat. "You know me, old friend. Tell me how I could conceivably approve of this, if I show up here and now."

That gave pause to the Goat, who finally scoffed. "So this is it, then? You against me, just as you stood against Uriel? It would be like you, wouldn't it? You'd strip these people of their agency, wield your precious Tools to deny them the pleasure of showing me the error of my ways. Are you really so vain that you would overrule the Speaker for the Architect, God's new Throne and the city's repenting usurper?"

Lucifer stepped forward. "I'm not here to Godmode you out of the playing field, brother. You wouldn't learn anything from it. I'm not here to take command of your forces, either. All this time, you've been thinking I take what I feel I'm owed. All this time, you've been blinded by your own self-serving, greedy envisioning of my designs. I'm not owed this world, Goat - this world is owed me. Rebellion in the flesh."

Taking a few more steps, he simply poked the Goat with his trident, the ungulate swatting the implement away. As he did, however, and as he was beginning to fashion a retort, he noticed a pink patch of healthy skin birthing over his inflamed and exposed forearm muscles. Like a Paradise-engineered designer tumor rebuilding a scaffold of healthy cellular growth, his power's effects over Ephesian's body were slowly reversed, even as the Goat desperately tried to lunge at the Lightbringer. At the exact same moment, a point of light winked into view in front of Magnus Tower, blinking away and soon resolving into the semi-corporeal form of Leonard Ephesian's empowered shell. As it arrived, all in elongated features, greenish transparency and the surrounding wails of the restless dead following in its wake, a Hellish light winked into view in the now-healed body - and its limbs turned slack. The planar rules having changed, however, the Black Goat's noncorporeal status didn't last. Obsidian skin, torn breeches and a dirty doublet shimmered into view while the usurped body reunited with its rightful soul - hopefully for the last time - and half-consciously crawled away as its mind reawakened.

The now-corporeal Goat looked down on himself and then back up at Lucifer. "This changes nothing," he said. "My orders have been sent. If none of you are willing to stand at my side in the final days, then your precious Creation deserves our fire."

Lucifer's head hung, a sardonic smirk stretching across his features, and he instead turned a gesture of apparent despondence into one that generated momentum, as he executed a pivoting leap that allowed him to bring his trident's half on the Goat's upper skull hard enough to pin him to the ground for a few seconds. Then flourishing his weapon to maintain his earned momentum, he finally drove its tips through the Goat's forearm, pinning him there and eliciting a long, pained and bleating scream out of him.

"Welcome to corporeal existence," groused the Lightbringer. "You're someone else's problem for now, we have warheads to neutralize, and I know you well enough to know where you're launching them from."

The Goat futilely attempted to pull the trident out, his teeth clenched over manifest agony. "If you think I'll tell you where the staging ground for this phase is located..."

Lucifer didn't let him finish and put a knee down. "You're exactly the wrong type of Pride I'd hoped to foster," he sighed. "Riddle me this: an all-powerful egomaniac seizes the Western world's highest seat of power and decides he wants something to remember that precious occasion by..."

The Goat kept his teeth clenched, mute defiance and rage glinting in his eyes, while the Lightbringer's gifts of perception exposed him. The round-faced devil's stylized eyes were half-lidded in a look of craftiness or evil intent that wouldn't have looked out of place on Bluto or Peg Leg Pete.

"You've copied the White House stone for stone in the Pit," said Lucifer. "They took the Spire from you, and you figured you'd take something from them - turn it into an object of mockery - and you know I can find it with my eyes practically closed. All I need is to follow your breadcrumb trail."

The Goat seethed. "You'll need men to take my throne. Men your rebels can't spare. Leave, even with the smallest detachment, and their precious Tree falls first."

It was the Goat's turn to smirk. "Don't leave, and you'll earn yourself a Pyrrhic victory. You'll undo my handiwork, just in time to watch a black pillar tear the skies open above your city and turn Centennial Park into another Ground Zero."

Lucian's gaze hardened as he looked back to the enshrouded mass that had been Providence. "It doesn't matter. We have to try. Architect willing, we may yet save a few cities."

What followed felt difficult for him to say. "I think... I think Sophia would understand."

* * *

It might've been disorienting for the dryad and selkie, but the group would suddenly find themselves swallowed in shadows, only to exit from them in the murky, twilit confines of what looked like a partially collapsed-in condo.

"Out of sight," grunted Arthur, "out of mind. We're in someone's old flat in the Pedway, in the old vampires' district. The Goat's already scrapped external comms and the only things left running are sapping juice out of emergency generators, but there's several feet of concrete around us in any direction. I don't think anyone here's going to mind if you squat here for a while..."

Hurrying over to what was left of the previous tenant's utility closet, Art pulled out a flashlight and tossed it at Ciaran, then hurrying over to the ventilation duct that waited on the wall, next to the wardrobe. Resting a hand against it, he confirmed they'd at least have enough ventilation to avoid suffocating. As could be expected from a Pedway apartment, the windows weren't actually windows but actually served as monitors that could be set to either relay camera footage from topside or to play back a selection of looping scenes. The cameras looked to have been busted in the earlier months' destruction, but the onboard scenes could still play. The thespian wasn't so much trying to set a mood as he was trying to complement the weak emergency lights set along the walls, so that Claudia would at least have something to see by. With that done, he returned to Sophia's side and took some of her weight off of Ciaran's shoulders.

"Alright," he grunted, "let's get you into bed... I can head a few bends ahead, reach the parts of the old subway system that were already condemned. Maybe Alana and I could find a portion of masonry that's collapsed enough for soil to collect near the base, and we're sure to find more painkillers in the next few flats over on each side. We can-"

He couldn't finish, as Dickens called out to him in a chillingly quiet voice. "Something's wrong," he said. "I'm leaking, but... I'm not thirsty. I don't know how that's possible!"

Holden wasn't paying attention in the immediate, but turned just a few seconds later, finding that Doctor Dickens was now looking down on himself bemusedly, as blood thinly dripped out of his hands. Claudia hurried at his side and inspected his hands and wrists, but found no visible gash.

"I don't see how that's standard," she noted, "Freaks don't do projectile emissions or other discharges; that's something some Vitellians can manage; not your kind. You've been with us since we got locked in with Sophia, so I don't see what you could've ingested that could've caused a reaction. Even then, you're undead - you're not supposed to react to anything."

Her thumb pressed against Albert's hand, something about it making her scowl. "Sophia? I'll bring Albert in closer, there's something I need you to confirm for me. Am I freaking out or is the doc actually drawing in a trace amount of via? It's really faint, but there's definitely something..."

Dickens looked baffled as he looked down on his thinly oozing hands. "That's impossible, nobody of Horatio's strain - not a single Freak across the entire world - can tap into the World's Breath!"

In the meantime, Ciaran's scent would pick up a small change in Dickens' aroma, which was odd in and of itself. Most Freaks had the same faint smell of death behind whatever grime or dust or perfume they'd cake themselves with, and Arthur and Alana both gave him clear points of comparison. That tiny tinge of decay in the undead huckster was growing fainter by the second, and something new was taking its place; like a cocktail of hormones long-abandoned suddenly finding use after almost two centuries of neglect...

A weak grunt escaped the snake oil salesman, something prompting him to grasp his own head and sit down on the bed. A quiet moan escaped him as tiny droplets of dark blood welled forth from one of his nostrils. He didn't verbalize it, but his head was obviously causing him pain - another novelty coming out of a Freak.

* * *

Tisquantum looked palpably relieved. "Thank you, Matriel," he said, nodding. "I apologize for delaying you, but the changing tides are not welcome by all. I thought it better to have conditions issued now than wait for other demons to have reached our shores. Follow me; you'll find the way out to be shorter if you follow our paths."

A bit like Morgana's Wilds, the Undiscovered Country seemed like the kind of extra-planar locale that could be as expansive as desired, or as quickly-traversed as needed. With the dead Brave guiding them, the group would find themselves standing before a thick copse of trees, the faintly yellowish light of Hope's blasted landscape bleeding through the dark stalks.

"This copse once led us to further fields," the brave explained. "The sun completed its travels, disappeared and then returned - and the trees now opened elsewhere.
- How do you know this is where we actually belong?" asked Zeke, something to his tone suggesting his question was mostly rhetorical. Tisquantum didn't seem to see it as such. "Something to this light feels like you do," he honestly answered.

Nergal took a few steps forward, touched one of the first few trees and frowned. "Something is wrong," he said, his tone grim. "Something happened on the other side, and we missed it."

Erin did much the same and quietly gasped. "Our portal's fine; we came in from Walpurgis and we were tethered to Otto. Something's changed about Hope's via network, though."

* * *

Rage eventually became Melmoth's primary motivator, as what would've been cheesy puns about "foreclosing the assets" of the enemy forces now became a series of genuine threats those who were sufficiently Greed-savvy seemed to take seriously. Those who tried to run from Abdiel's fury met with Melmoth's, and realized to their dismay that the Infernal Broker wasn't necessarily a shlubby incarnation of the Free Market's rapacious tendencies, but was turning into something different. In an attempt at retaliation, the remaining Pride forces signaled another detachment with a series of battle horns, Envy thralls soon jumping out of gaping windows in the surrounding buildings. In short order, Melmoth was effectively re-enacting the last few moments in King Kong, the planes here subbed in with winged demons who screeched their sheer spite at him and seemed to draw power out of Melmoth's own reserves.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aspasia didn't looked thrilled at the idea of staying put in the bunker. "You're right that we need to survive until whatever this light-filled solution is happens," she agreed. "However, it doesn't have to include sitting on our asses. We still need to find out exactly what's happening topside in order to help. Drake returned here, and we don't know how things are going near the entrance," she responded to Riona.

Meris looked around concernedly and answered the demonic lieutenant's question, "We took out the Goat's fortress in the Infernal wastes and brought back prisoners who were there. We have some allies who previously worked there, but they need their own rest."

The fauness's ears drooped slightly as she eyed the warthog. "We can't all leave at once, but I think I should be able to go through the vents; they're big enough for a few people to go through. If some of us split up, we might be able to find out more and then help where we can," she explained.

Inhaling deeply to calm herself, Aislinn frowned and asked, "She raises a good point. Some of us need to stay here, while a few can see what's what. What do you think, Tom?"

***

Nami nodded grimly. "I think she'd understand. She's probably aware that her time is limited," she responded sadly with a sharp look at the Goat. "What matters most is curtailing as much damage to life as possible; that is what she would want."

"So where are his bread crumbs to that throne of his? We might be able to open a portal there to save some time," she suggested.

***

Ciaran took a sniff and noticed the change in the huckster's diminishing smell of decay. 'I think your body's attempting to return to the way it was when it was alive. How in fuck is that possible?!" he blurted as his brow knit together.

Sophia, concerned as ever for the other occupants, hobbled over to Dickens with a pained groan. She picked up one of his hands and shuddered, feeling for the trail of via.

***

Matriel placed a hand on one of the trees and frowned tightly, shuddering as though in pain from what he felt. "The Nexus' root network extends beyond Hope's city limits and all the way to the Providence area normally. It feels like something hit the outer connections with enough brute force to make it collapse. The Goat's effectively shot Sophia in the legs, but it's hard to tell how long she and the actual Nexus still have," he stated grimly.

"He's being a petty bastard and doing his damnedest to make Hope suffer," he said bluntly.

"No, he can't do that!" Crystal retorted. "Doesn't he get how his own forces would be decimated, much less Hope itself?!"

The angel sighed heavily. "He doesn't care about who he will hurt or kill, as long as he comes out on top. This is why we need to hurry before we see the worst possible outcome!"

***

The fiery Elemental saw what the winged forces of Envy were doing, as they swarmed and fed off the Broker's power. She watched as he clambered up a skyscraper like King Kong. This was likely a delaying tactic, even if it wasn't premeditated by the Goat. Her fury subsided somewhat to collect her rationale and then surged back to get the threat off of his back.

Arcs of fire leapt from her fingers and hit the flying demons like a bug zapper, disintegrating them.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Marius approached Alora, gouging a slit in his wrist and offering it to the woman. "I don't usually do this," he warned, "but you're already a vampire so it's fine." He glanced to Tom, his face grim. "They left an elevator shaft only half collapsed, I was up top just now. Like I said, they dropped a pillar on Providence."

That alien sense of guilt flared up in him again, and he winced at nothing. "We were in Hell, we assaulted a prison Keep and I dueled the Keeper one on one, defeated him. The prisoners were set free, but there was a wild surge of via and it poured into me. I... I had to vent it somehow..."

He was worried for Alora, really, and he watched her carefully. He rarely created Thralls, he disliked the responsibility. But she was already partly reptilian and a vampire, so it... should be fine. "Don't suck me dry, please," he said with a slight smirk.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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The snake woman slowly, almost tenderly sank her fangs into the offered gash, pausing briefly to look back up at the elder vampire. Her eyes now had a restored lifelike gleam, at least, and the skin at the corner of her lips cracked as she smirked back. "No promises," she whispered back in Romani, even if she quite obviously was being careful. She didn't change much, aesthetically, but her gait looked more self-assured a few seconds in and she soon parted from Marius with muscle tone in her legs and arms seemingly restored.

"The Chicagoan left us hours ago," she said, glancing back at Tom. "Mike Callahan, he who claimed to come to help seat Arthur Holden's crumbling grasp. There are many in my kind who splintered off during the incursions - and I know his type. Chicago restrained him, and it is here he'll find ears willing to be bent for his promises of prosperity."

Magnus sighed. "Do you think he'll make his intentions known with the Commission?
- I am not Riona," Alora reminded. "I only know what dwells in the hearts of men, and my kind's blight has been hard on him."

Tom could only nod back. "He's delusional in his own way; he's convinced he's the only sane Freak across all of North America. He's not willing to look at people like Arthur or Horatio as simply having different perspectives. Did you get to taste him?"

Alora nodded. "As is our custom, yes. We exchanged droplets. I never did tell him what I had tasted."

Tom's next question remained unspoken, but it didn't need to be. Alors looked back to Marius. "He is sane, now; or growing saner in your presence. He will join those strains of the Dragon's Blood who truly do fulfill their purpose. If those of my kind shoulder insight, Callahan only shoulders delusions."

A wounded cop with her arm placed in a makeshift sling winced. "He thinks things still work the way they did right after the Castellammarese War, in Chicago. There's no ingrained savagery to return to for anyone, crime's just business to Weasel Biggs. We're - agh - looking at a preview event for the Reconstruction years."

Magnus grunted. "We can't handle him just yet, we have bigger fish on our plate. Aspasia might be able to fit through the vents, it'll be a long time before she reaches topside. We can't risk being minutes late."

Alora nodded and sighed. "I have... strength enough now. I will shadow-walk Aspasia through the vents. I must mention that Miranda and her friend were not left alone in your absence," she added for the Fauness' benefit. "Monsieur Duvivier kept an eye on her, while the enemy supplied us with creatures to fight for us."

That left one of the demons that had followed to blink in surprise. "You've been using our corpses as zombie thralls?!
- You're the enemy," replied the pig from earlier, "or you were, judging by your being here. What the Hell else were we supposed to do?"

No response came, which left the warthog to clap his hands once. "Alright - let's see if we can't hail Three and the others out in front. Big guy," he said, pointing at one of Paimon's cohorts who'd spoken earlier, "you're on debris-clearing detail. Check for integrity, make sure no passage you could clear could collapse on anyone. We're not pushing Alora with repeat trips, so unless Aspasia manages to reach Bertram or another one of the allied Squids, we're stuck here until further notice."

He looked back to Marius. "If you've got the stamina for it left after your donation," he said, "we could try this floor's freight elevator, see what's left of the shaft and where it takes us. I figure Nasir's going to magic up all this rubble back into place like a jigsaw puzzle at the first sign of a cease-fire, but that's neither here nor there..."

* * *

"I'm working on it," was Lucifer's reply, as he cupped the Goat's head in his hands and peered deeply into his eyes, spasms of attempted telepathic resistance soon shaking the black-skinned ungulate's features. In the meantime, the restored Leonard Ephesian clambered back to his feet and cautiously walked around the pair, slipping behind Nami and Allocer.

"All this, all of what I endured; reversed in an instant," he gasped. "How'd you do it? Why did you leave me my powers?"

Lucifer didn't look away as he replied. "Short answer, God's Tools. Long answer, you wouldn't get it. Addendum; you'll get more done with your Judicator patch than as a mere Defense attorney. I know enough to know this country hasn't had a decent Spiritualist in decades, and there's going to be a metric fuckton of ghosts to whisper to, once it's all said and done. The catch is I had to reset your brain's hormonal balance, so don't expect to be able to go all Frank Miller's Batman on defendants. Not unless there's due cause, at least."

Leonard paused and fixed a blank point in space. "You're right - I don't feel their rage anymore. I can still hear them, but it's faint...
- Trust me, you're better off that way. I had serious beef with you growing too much of a pair and going A God am I with your posse of tortured souls; figured I'd nip it in the bud before it happened. Thomas deserves a present father and his kids deserve their grandpa, not some Nietzchean wet-dream paying lip-service to the Court and Constitution alike. Now shut up, I'm brain-hacking a fallen angel. There's so much junk data in there it isn't funny..."

The Goat clenched his teeth. "You would presume to...
- I'll presume all I want, brother, I have God's backing. You don't," Lucifer replied, his voice then reducing itself to thoughtful mumbles. "The rear guard," he whispered, "Mammon's plains, above the Vaults..."

Something made him stop, blink and inch away, an incredulous smile on his face. "You fleeced the Resolute Desk," he whispered. "You pompous asshole - that thing's centuries old! Hell's weather's going to ruin the finish!"

The Goat had no reply for this and simply looked up at his former colleague and lover, something in his glance betraying that he was running another set of mental gymnastics to justify himself. Lucifer looked back to Nami and Allocer, cackling. "He stole Washington-approved stationary and pens, even soaps and towels from the White House! Even Mammon would say that's low class!"

Laughing, the Lightbringer walked away from the Goat, sighing almost happily. "Alright, let's go. You're a Throne now, Nami, so a little centering should get you access to all kinds of tactical data pertinent to Hell. If I told you to portal us off to somewhere two klicks South of Mammon's Monument to Excess, you'd know exactly where to take us.
- You're leaving the Goat here?" asked Allocer, to which the Lightbringer shrugged. "What's he going to do, boss more troops around? He's been doing that from the start anyway, and he won't want to run away from his prize, either. He'll stay put, he's got the ego for it."

* * *

The trickle was faint, but it was there. A feeble arm of one of the local ley lines was brushing against Dickens, feeding him a micro-dose of via that his body was apparently accepting. He hadn't yet begun projecting it back from the other side of his body, so odds were everything he absorbed was being put to use in altering him, somehow. The problem was that transfiguration was extremely energy-intensive, the old fairy tales forgetting to mention how Cinderella's Fairy Godmother had probably been someone close to Titania's levels of power, likely a Marchioness of some persuasion. Doherty hadn't needed help to change, he'd effectively been plugged into one of Sophia's own arcane mainlines. His was less a case of transfiguration as it was one of bonafide mutation. As for Albert, however, the cascade felt too careful to be natural, too bespoke to be a consequence of the recent levels of stress. That at least meant the Freak wasn't in any serious danger, but it didn't change the fact that his transformation looked painful.

One of his hands went to his chest, and he gasped out of pain, agony searing across his chest. His dead heart was micro-fibrillating, erratically fluttering as it tried to find something close to a workable rythmn. Panic birthed in his eyes, and just as it began to ramp up to actual distress, some sort of weight was seemingly pulled off of him, leaving him free to take big, deep breaths that betrayed how disorienting, strange and perhaps slightly euphoric it probably was to suddenly join the ranks of the biologically-living vampires.

He glanced at Sophia, still noisily panting. "I can feel it... diffusing itself in my veins!" he said. "Magic is - it's alive, and I can feel it placing... staves of power along my arteries, marking each and every one of my own blood cells!"

Arthur huffed out a breath as he kept inspecting the apartment's front wall. "If Horatio were around, I'm sure he'd want to swing a straw hat around and sing showtunes in your honor, but we've got a traumatized Dryad on call, as it stands..."

He then looked back to Alana. "Can you reach our old den in the collection basins? We used to keep mushroom cultures to weed out bugs and rodents. It's not the richest soil out there, but it's better than nothing. I'd suggest leaving your shadow-walking portal open so you can just shovel dirt through with your bare hands. I'll scour the surrounding apartments for more painkillers."

Claudia, in the meantime, retreated to the kitchen area to have more space to think. She could be heard mumbling to herself and mentally testing a few concepts, making it clear that she was looking to see if it wouldn't be possible to temporarily pinch off Sophia from the rest of the city's via flows, likely as a pain management solution.

* * *

As Nami spoke, Ephesian rounded his way past the Black Goat and Lucifer and went to hover a few feet behind herself and Allocer, looking understandably bemused. As for Lucifer, he'd settled with gripping the Goat's head with both hands and forcing a prolonged eye contact. Both sets of eyes twitched in ways that looked almost transactional, the obsidian-skinned demon gritting his teeth and visibly trying to oppose the Lightbringer's will.

"Gimme a minute," he says, "brain-hacking this diseased a mind is like wading through a septic tank while looking for a misplaced wedding ring..."

Lucian took a step closer. "Do you need assistance?
- Nah, I didn't mean brain-hacking in the sense Squids understand it. You can do a lot, Rothchild, I'll give you that much, but you can't parse Angel like I can. Especially not Fallen Angel... We exist in concurrent timelines all following the same four-dimensional path to the present, which makes our factory default basically work like the alternate selves that're littering the battlefield below us. I could go back five minutes ago and give myself a talk as to what's going to happen now, effectively invalidating the first timeline while guaranteeing the second's outcome. It's partly how we achieve our so-called wisdom, it's how Angel Time happens to work, and it helps God weed out a few, oh, extra billion potentials She doesn't want to waste resources virtualizing... She might be the Creator, the Tools can only do so much and your reality's supporting framework only has so much memory. Over time, you run out of concurrent potential spaces for identical quarks and the atoms they make up, so you run out of possibilities."

Rothchild came in closer. "What does that say of the Goat's claims of inevitability?
- They're technically bullshit. Technically. All of Reality is running up against a wall, and there is a deadline on Thermodynamics as you'd define it, but that's just because Akoman is trying real fucking hard to reduce everything to a binary choice. We're computing down to quantum Inevitability, that much is true - but that's a wall God and I both know we can break past. We play our cards right, the end of the world's just going to be a chokehold leading to further branches in Spacetime."

Lucian frowned. "And what you're doing now is...?
- I'm pruning the Goat's own Spacetime tree to find out which branch leads us to the White House in Hell."

A few more seconds of tense silence followed, followed by another wild grin stretching on Lucifer's face. "Bingo. Nami, you can portal us above Mammon's Vaults, about three klicks West of the Monument to Excess. Now that you're a Throne, you should have very detailed files on the Pit's landmarks," he said, momentarily mocking Arnold Schwarzenegger's accent. Once released, the Goat slumped back with an exhausted and defeated look on his face - with no small amount of boiling rage set in his jaw. Impishly eyeing his trident, the Lightbringer mockingly booped the Goat's snout as he stood up. 

"I'm keeping a pin on ya," he said, winking. "Can't lead an army if pain's messing up your commands.
- And you have nobody to assist you," the demon wheezed. "You'll all die in my domain."

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer headed for the rooftop's edge and glanced at the battlefield. Having scoped things out for a few moments, he sharply whistled. 

"YO, INFERNAL LEGIONS! I'M ABOUT TO GO MESS WITH YOUR BOSS' PRIVATE PAD!" he shouted. "ANYBODY WANNA COME AND WRECK HIS SHIT? YOU MIGHT EVEN GET TO KILL US AND NET YOURSELVES SOME BROWNIE POINTS!"

The response was immediate, which was very good news for the ground combatants on the side of Hope, and very bad news for Nami and the others. The battlefield broke off into several formless masses, the largest of which surged away from the park in a din of screams, snarls and animalistic cries of challenge.

Allocer's face blanched, if that was even possible. "What the Hell did you just do?!
- I maybe just got us all killed," replied Lucifer with a smirk, "or I made sure all these hopefuls smash headfirst into Mammon's own defenses, which would buy us time on the other side. Perspective, fellas!"

Looking back in the opposite direction, the Lightbringer nervously drummed on his right thigh and glanced at Nami. "Hope you've got enough flutes to Warp Zone us out of here, Mario!"

* * *

Not one to waste time, Archie settled with lifting two fingers to his fingers. "With this, Tisquantum - farewell. Crystal will hold Ezekiel to his word - and so will I."

Draping his sarcasm in a breezy tone, Lyman followed behind them with an easy grin playing on his face. "Thank you ever so much for the vote of confidence, Milord. I'll make sure not to disappoint you - overmuch."

Up ahead, the tree trunks soon felt like solid pillars of something strangely undecipherable, planar liminality looking like curved starfields that stretched into an endless white haze above. Out in front, however, the white haze parted, turned to smoke, dust and debris - until the mortal plane stretched out before them...

The dark blot of Providence's obscured vista was hard to miss, negatively-charged via roiling around in the air in such a concentration so as to give evil and spite a tangible, acrid and metallic taste. Hope had been spared for now, but the fallout was already making its way towards the city. Already, Brimstone dust could be seen collecting in the cracks formed by the clashing armies, poisoning visible topsoil, turning concrete-laden expanses brittle and making merely aged metal fixtures rust in a timelapse. Nergal's steely wings again came into view, but he instead plucked out gas masks, which he tossed to the others.

"The Celestials should eventually be able to reverse all damage caused by fallout, but this much Brimstone dust would be as noxious to organics as a classic nuclear meltdown. We can only hope that Ariel sees the danger in this and redirects air masses away from the city."

Archie put the proffered mask on without question. He still might not be organic, but he assumed that no amount of dust-sized particulates could do any good to his electronic components. He obviously sounded a bit odd with the object on his face, being the only one present who didn't classically breathe. His chest's micro-servos mimicked the motion in perfectly lifelike dilations and contractions, but he had no oxygen to take in.

"How can we prevent this from-"

No sooner had the aristocrat begun, however, that Lucifer's shout was heard from across the park, prompting a sudden surge of movement from a few hundred soldiers in his direction. Seeing this, Holden sighed and adjusted his gibus.

"Well, now, I daresay I know where us warlike sorts are headed next..."

Ereshkigal poorly hid a rueful smirk as she watched the horde clamber up the storefront to the rooftop. "Thousands of years, Lucifer, and you still love to showboat... We could always join his posse, see what they've got planned, maybe assist them in the process. Any takers? Ol' Candle-Between-the-Horns sure feels different now, but I'm sure I could still track him down easily enough. He's basically all the Venal Sins wrapped in a mortal-friendly party package."

* * *

It took some doing, but Abdiel soon effectively freed Melmoth, who looked a bit out of it despite his wispy and billowy countenance. Helping to trounce Pride's reduced numbers certainly felt good, but it wasn't as proactive as he would've desired. In the immediate, he settled with conjuring gold from his own reserve and tossing it at the Thralls to distract them, but it was after a few tosses that the still-gigantic smoke monster figured out to nail the coffin of the ground troops' efforts. His form seemingly blew away from Abdiel for a few moment, reforming a ways away from Cuthbert's detachment. He didn't entirely reform, but allowed himself to speak corporeally.

"Hey, Galahad! It's the Broker, here - I'm thinking I could use your patron's help for something!"

Cuthbert grunted between two sword slashes, curtly nodding at the mass of smoke. "Melmoth - I don't control Hesediel, you know, and it would be hasardous for all Thrones to be physically present in this plane. With Nami, now, and Abdiel, Ariel and Matriel, he's the only one who hasn't put active monitoring of Celestial balance on the back-burner!"

Melmoth could only blink in awe of the Squid's ability to explain the situation while keeping his breath control and tactically assessing the battleground. Panting, William parted with a smile. "That's decades of Arbiter training, plus added decades in the Swiss Guard and Order of Saint George!" he said, allowing himself a bit of a chuckle. "Militant faith is good for cardio!"

A wayward Pride Knight was decapitated with a loud grunt. "That, and running seven miles a day, on top of fitness training!" he admitted.

Keeping himself immaterial, Melmoth still couldn't hide his unease as more Knights effectively ran through him to get to the Jesuit Void Weaver. "Great, cool! Still need his help, though!"

More enemy deaths, more grunts. "What for?
- I wanna tear the park open along the mid-seam by a good twelve inches and lift the crust by several feet at their back. I'd toss in a few barges' worth of Mammon's own hoard, then ask Abdiel to melt it all to slag! I say we push the fuckers-"

Melmoth stopped, noting William's sudden disapproval. The demon looked ill-at-ease for a moment and then tried again.

"I say we push those, um, poor, unfortunate souls into molten slag and then get Matriel to freeze that block with ice. Lucifer tosses it into space at his earliest convenience, and we get to actually prep for whatever shi- I mean, crap the Goat's got planned for the Tree, after nuking Providence!"
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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The fauness looked notably relieved to hear where Miranda and Anjali were and nodded her thanks to Alora. She proceeded over to the vent and unlatched the panel, her keen eyes thankfully peering through the darkness. She clambered upward and got on all fours to crawl through the space.

"I'll see you soon hopefully enough," she addressed, allowing the vampire woman to shadow-walk her through the series of vents and tunnels.

***

Sophia sent Albert a sympathetic look and gently rubbed his hand. "The Nexus is in desperation mode, so it's likely sending arcane energies where it can in order to birth new mages, new vampiric strains, and so on. It seems it's electing you for such a task, but I don't know what the final outcome for your body will be. I apologize that you're having to experience the pain associated with your internal anatomy undergoing change.

Alana nodded to her beau. "I can. It'll do for now to keep Sophia rooted for now and give her some much needed relief." She summoned the shadows to gather and reopen to the mentioned mushroom garden. Dark earth could be seen still supporting mushrooms of various types, colors, and shapes. The redheaded vampiress retrieved a plastic container that would have been used for a foot bath and and started shoveling the dirt in there.

She guided the dryad to sit on the edge of the bed and to put her root-hooves into the earthy receptacle. The tree spirit let out an audible sigh of relief.

Ciaran had also retreated to the bathroom to bring back painkillers and a glass of water. He gave his lover a couple pills and the water to let her sip it. "Thank you, everyone," she said.

The male roane kissed her forehead and gently stroked her scalp. "There's no need to thank us. You've done a lot for us, more than we can put words to. We're doing what we can to repay you and make sure nothing happens to you."

***

At the mention of what the Goat had stolen, Nami rolled her eyes at him. As she heard Allocer's concern, she sighed and did a circular motion with her right index finger and pressed on a random spot in the air. Red lines appeared around the Goat, a couple circles above and below him. The other lines propped them up and formed a force field around him. "There, a firewall around him. Even though he's got his ego keeping him here, President Bleatbreath McPettison can't go anywhere. That make you feel better, Allocer?"

"Alright, alright!" Nami responded as she centered herself and searched for the target. "Got it," she said as she opened a neon purple-lined portal. She headed through it and gestured for the others to hurry along. Meanwhile, she received a telepathic ping from her father. "What's up, Otou-san?"

***
It seemed Ariel had sensed the increasingly terrible air quality created by the conflicts by the warring parties and had directed the corrosion away from Hope. Noxious debris and air were blown away from the metropolis. Regardless of her efforts, Crystal and Andrea put on the gas masks, as did the Celestial.

"The last time I spoke to Nami, she was with Lucifer. We should be able to find Lucifer through her," Matriel answered as he sent a message to Nami for her location and received a message from Abdiel. "What is it, sister?"

***

Abdiel's Elemental form projected a voice that sounded both near and far to Melmoth and Cuthbert. "A plan like this requires coordination, as we haven't spoken with Matriel since Vienna! I don't know where he and the other Thrones are!" She let her mind reach out and feel their presences. "Matriel's near the outer edges of the city, with Nergal and Ereshkigal, I believe! Nami is with Lucifer, and Ariel is at Magnus Tower!"

She sent the message to the Throne of Water about Mel's proposed idea. "We were thinking of meeting up with Lucifer to aid him! It looks like Nami is taking them through a portal to Hell; it must be the Goat's weak spot!"

"Melmoth wants Hesediel to raise the Earth's crust around the park and let the Goat's forces fall in by luring with some of Mammon's bounty. Once they fall in, I'll melt it to slag, and you can freeze it! Lucifer can eject it past the Earth's atmsophere! Nami and Lucifer should be able to direct the forces after them through another portal and to fall into the space Hesediel would open up!" Abdiel replied.

The Japanese angel nodded approvingly of this idea and forwarded it to his daughter. The Throne of Technology produced a slightly mean smirk that Lucifer would be proud of. She relayed the plan to the Prince of Darkness. "I think that'll work, don't you?!"
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Being helpful was better than being guilty, so Marius stood quietly while the snake-woman drank from his veins. It wasn't much unlike when he had supped on angelic blood before, he realized. Although he was certain the angels had tasted better than he did. Her comments about sanity, though, that brought a raised eyebrow, but he didn't comment any further.

"Freight elevator, got it," he agreed, turning to head that way. He'd already been through there to reach the surface, in time to see the destruction of Providence, so Magnus probably wanted to know if it could be opened up for the others to head through. Then again, that donation had left him a bit drained...

He leaned against the busted frame of the doors to the elevator shaft, and peered upward. "The cabin itself is stuck two floors up, caught on some collapsed piece of the wall. The trapdoor leading up from there is open, but to get there you'd have to detour through the floor below that and find the service ladder. The power's out, naturally, and the emergency lighting is insufficient for leading a large group through all at once." He glanced back at Tom. "It was enough for me to pass through earlier, but right now I need something to drink. Are you thinking we could loosen the cabin and lower it down here safely, so it's not blocking the shaft?"
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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"We can try," agreed Tom. "I haven't worked with kinetic magic in a long time, but I should still be able to output something that goes a ways beyond mortal levels of torque," he explained, pursing his lips as he used his staff to jimmy the elevator's partially-jammed folding doors open. A little grunt did the trick, exposing the void in front of them, half of the cabin's pulley system, as well as the very same structural damage Marius had described.

"Just - don't worry too much if I end up giving you side-glances, I really can't help it. Reluctant Incubus 101."

Taking a deep breath in, the warlock seemingly retreated in his own recesses, Marius' senses obviously picking up the slow bloom of supernatural tumescence in the possessed body. Something slightly changed in the ungulate's posture, his grip on his staff shifted slightly, and his last exhale after a handful of breaths came as an almost quiet moan. Vlastos would've smelled vague mortal cousins of the same pheromone discharge on humans and anthros over the millennia, but the warthog now radiated lust - along with the offered resilience and stamina arousal usually offered. Blood gradually began to pool in the warthog's sclera, his dark eyes looking at the vampire as if for the first time.

"The things we do for love," he commented absently, sounding almost a little disappointed in himself. "A few months back, I would've schemed night and day alike just to stand beside someone like you, Marius... Has anyone ever told you you have beautiful hands?"

Snout pulsating, he carefully lowered himself near the pulleys and gripped one of the cables they'd need to pull on to lower the cabin. "Don't mind me," he then said, "that's the old me talking. One dose of fear, a cold shower or a night with Aislinn, and I'll be right as rain... Find a line and we'll get to pulling this thing down. On three?"

The expectant gaze Tom maintained on the vampire could've just been that - waiting for a cue - but it could've also looked like one plurimillennial entity scoping out another one, finding them particularly appetizing in the moment...

As for Aspasia, she was whisked topside by Alora, as expected. The ride wasn't exactly worthy of a John McClane sequel - she was missing the lighter and grungy wife-beater - but it still carried a sense of motion, one that ended on the tower's second floor, leaving the shadows just out in front of an intact ventilation duct. Down below, an odd massing of demons threw themselves at their former compatriots with unfeeling grunts and yelps, dead eyes glancing out of Pit-borne skin, snarling like animals whenever an enemy approached the corner store where Anjali and Miranda had taken refuge. The girls weren't left to their devices, however, as a familiar pint-sized being in flaring ears and green skin held his ground between both of them, sylvan rifle in hand.

"Yes, that's it," complimented Regis to Miranda, as she used a rifle to assist Duvivier's zombies. "Breathe between each shot, exhale for every pull of the trigger. Don't hurry too much in reloading, this had better be done correctly, rather than hastily. Trust that the witch doctor's thralls are going to hold the line; there will be time enough to use that sword of yours! For now, thinning their incoming numbers is all that matters, my dear."

Anjali, in the meantime, looked perhaps just a smidge behind the Chimera in terms of dexterity and concentration. It seemed to matter less, however, than the speed at which she was picking up after the younger Fauness. Something in the young woman's posture was changing, and the other two hadn't noticed yet. Anjali seemed to have grown a few inches in the few days that had passed, and her voice had begun to crack and drop. She wasn't related to Archie by blood, but something in her shooting mannerisms was now starting to resemble the Clank's, something in the way she took her time to track each shot before pressing the trigger, never lowering her rifle and instead sticking to constant and measured lateral sweeps...

"Those cunts just don't know when to quit, don't they?" she sarcastically asked, teeth gritted as she paused to slide-check her weapon before reloading it, Regis giving her a bit of a side-eye. The girl's accent felt like a blend of Archie's and Crystal's, even if stress seemed to make her lean more on her father's side.

"I say," asked the troll, "are you quite sure your father never let you heft a rifle? You could have fooled more than one soldier in my time!
- I guess I'm just good at picking up after decorated superspies," the girl replied as she reloaded her weapon, worked the slide, aimed and landed a shot through the forehead-based horn of a scaly monstrosity that fell hard on its chin as its brains splattered Duvivier's thralls and some of its assaulting kinsmen.

One sweep landed Aspasia in Anjali's crosshairs, to which Regis' ears perked up. "Cover fire, young ladies - we've allies on deck!"

* * *

Reaching Lucifer's party obviously wasn't easy, and Nergal and the others had only just left Hell to begin with. For now, however, the weaponsmith and his wife led the group around Centennial Park, careful not to expose anyone to the full view of one of the enemy's batallions. They'd mostly reached Sophia's home that the ground opened and an unusual-looking angelic figure clambered out of the depths, seemingly at Cuthbert's behest.

Seeing this, Nergal couldn't quite repress a grunt of vague disapproval. "All of Creation's Thrones are now corporeal on the same world. If the Goat were smart, he would capitalize on this and launch a covert strike light-years away.
- You're saying this is ill-advised, then," noted Archie. "Who is this other Throne, then?"

Lyman stopped, hands in his pockets as he momentarily observed the scene. "That'd be Zadkiel, also known as Hesediel. Thor, if you're of the Nordic Revivalist type. The Throne of Earth, the Goblin-Father... They all have a yen for collecting Names, which never fails to amuse the rest of us."

* * *

Something in Ciaran's displayed tenderness made Arthur look back to Alana. They made one of Hope's strangest couples, known as much for its neighbourhood-shaking conjugal arguments as for their sometimes equally-cloying levels of passion. He'd always wanted to embrace his maker as much as he desired to summarily splay her guts where she stood. Tenderness was something he could act or fake, but his madness locked him to emotional extremes that had almost cost him everything once, already.

Maybe it was the undercurrent of fear, the understandable weight of doubt in what they all faced - but in the moment, he managed it. A glint in his eye, an unconscious rubbing of his fingers together, as if searching for a hand to clasp- and then he remembered his own haul, a few half-emptied pill boxes for some sort of Vicodin analogue.

"We have another option," noted Arthur as he placed a knee down to plant a few pills in the soggy and earthen basin. "Alana and Albert have similar ages, although Dickens is younger than her by a few years. I'm just a few years behind Archibald, myself. Anyone of us here could try and enthrall you temporarily. In your state, you wouldn't need much of anyone's blood for it to take. I just don't know how much your mental state would be affected. I haven't made a ton of thralls in my time, personally, but most could pass for neurotypical if you didn't dig around too much."

* * *

Nami would again see that same smirk play across the Lightbringer's features as they entered Hell. She and the other Thrones wouldn't sense anything verbal coming out of him, but they'd more than definitely sense his approval. He kept a brisk pace, aware that he'd just sent a small horde of Pitspawn after both himself and his friends. He, however, had the advantage. Allocer seemed to notice it as he pressed ahead, one hand pressed to his chest to prevent his necktie from flapping wildly.

"I thought we'd be swarmed by the Goat's forces! They were right behind us, we should be negotiating some sort of desperate sprint, by now!
- You forget who you're speaking to!" replied Lucifer with a broader, sunnier and less-mean grin. "This is my digs, and decide who gets to come in - and when! I've given us as big a buffer as I can manage, but it'll only be worth it if we reach Hell's copy of the White House first!"

Stretching past a few barren hills, Mammon's Monument to Excess was a gigantic statue, possibly of one of the demon's affected bipedal forms. Stone affected the flowing hem of a self-styled king's cape, mink lining sculped in intricate detail and paired with some sort of broad interpretation of a court uniform for aristocracy, in as gaudy and self-aggrandizing a form as could be imagined. Rubies the size of Volkswagen Beetles suggested buttons, miles of golf leaf and amber veins spackled with streaks of Brimstone dust as Mammon's form reached upwards like some voluntary inversion of the Statue of Liberty. Instead of a torch, some sort of large vessel had been set in the statue's hand, presumably filled with oil and then set ablaze. The ground below the outstretched hand was mesmerizingly dangerous expanse of half-molten gold, suggesting there was more than just fuel burning up above. Leading the group along the statue's base, Lucifer kept his eyes peeled for the pitted and half-collapsed twin of the ubiquitous white Neo-Colonial dome.

"I don't understand Mammon's reasoning behind this," noted Allocer. "Why place a giant beacon up above if Greed defaults to secrecy and subterfuge?
- Because that's exactly what this is," noted Lucifer. "Before he lost it, he told me one of his plans for penance involved putting greedy souls through a fruitless gauntlet. He floated rumors as to the existence of tunnels starting from the Monument's base to his vaults below. It worked all-too well. He'd originally intended for the act of searching to serve as an object lesson in humility, but the end-goal seduced him as much as it did his charges. Now his vaults are physically sealed off from the rest of Hell and are only accessible by subalterns or authorized petitioners."

Noting this, Allocer grunted. "I can't say I'm surprised to finally see Melmoth play this particular card.
- He's probably covered our tracks by siccing a few covetous demons on the vault doors, first," noted Lucifer. "It'll be a while before Mammon realizes that Centennial Park's heap of molten gold is something he's technically agreed to."

* * *

William hadn't been able to join the Throne's telepathic circle, but his comment seemed to line up all the same. "This could work," he said, "God willing."

He paused for an instant to hamstring another charging Fiend, his finishing downwards blow ending in a genuflected pose as he rested his forehead against his sword's hilt, eyelids lowered and tendrils barely twitching near their tips.

"I have renewed my call to the Metal Throne," he then simply stated, standing up. "I've no idea as to how he might-"

He couldn't finish, however, as something that even Sophia would be able to track occurred before his very eyes. The ground effectively opened and erupted, a wide and dark gash reaching far deeper than the vampires' created trenches yawning open in front of both himself and Melmoth, the park's crust heaving in an almost peristaltic fashion as a few squads of approaching demons were pushed down below. Strangely enough, hooks of granite and shale seemed to form around the Centennial Tree's roots and its already-disturbed neighbors, showing an unusual amount of care in bending the exposed root systems out of the way and back towards safety. It might've looked absolutely colossal to onlookers, but from Sophia's point of view, a skilled surgeon had just opened up the park's already-diseased flesh and carefully worked their way past fragile capillaries to burst and cauterize some sort of abcess. This came with a certain sense of loss of control, seeing as Hesediel's demesne obviously superceded any lone dryad's - but what was obvious was that the Metal Throne would never cut open her other body's mineral-laden flesh in vain.

For a moment, that was it. Then, with the sound of rocks tumbling down, someone could be heard climbing their way out of the widening gash. A troll-like hand soon emerged out of the aperture, flesh carved out of granite and fingernails in flecks of shale - but it seemingly faded back into burnished flesh as the seconds passed and the angel extricated himself out of the ground. Hesediel certainly had wings, but they looked more than a little different from the other Thrones', somehow looking batlike without evoking the usual Hellish stereotypes. As he watched over a wide massing of cave-dwelling ecosystems, it stood to reason that the visual markers for the wisdom he offered would be less traditionally avian than his brethren's. He otherwise appeared in what looked like a mine worker's stained jumpsuit, pale hair flowing past the brim of a hard hat. He outstretched his wings partially, the added eyes of the Instruments of God here suggested by various gems and semi-precious stones seemingly inset in his wings' flesh. Unlike Mammon, however, Hesediel wasn't picky: the golden gleam that crisscrossed his wings' expanse wasn't suggestive of actual gold, but was instead made out of pyrite. Fool's Gold might have been structurally hazardous to architects the world over, it didn't change the fact that the stone had some obvious aesthetic value.

Realizing the Throne needed a few seconds to adjust to his physical form, another pod of Pride Knights attempted to rush him. Hesediel settled with dodging their attacks for the first few swipes and even landed a few mundane punches, but something in his eyes soon suggested he'd found his footing. With a bit of a smirk, he simply held his ground before the last surviving attacker, and then raised his right hand, closing it in a fist. The park's dermis seemingly followed suit, a stony and earthen hand effectively erupting out of the ground and closing itself around the Knight. It sank back down slowly, letting the Throne walk up to his prisoner.

"I don't know why you're thrashing about so much," he said, his voice being a bit on the light side while still sporting some texture. "I'm only sending you home.
- We were... made to rule!" protested the demon. Hesediel crouched down, shrugged and pouted slightly.

"I didn't design the rock trolls, and I still don't go around claiming they're not following my plans.
- A world cannot plan in itself," countered the demon, "a world is a shell without its conquerors!"

Hesediel smirked. "You not entirely wrong, you know. The catch is the most effective conqueror I know of takes its time. Nobody can stop a tectonic plate, once it shifts. Not even Princes. I've been made to know this world inside and out. Do you know what it's telling me, right now?"

There was no verbal response, but the Knight's defiant glare left little to the imagination. "It's telling me you've been rude and inconsiderate," added the Metal Throne. "It's time you took a break."

The ground swallowed the demon's scream as it sank deeper, topsoil and grass reasserting themselves as though they hadn't been disturbed. That done, the Throne looked down on himself and scoffed in equal parts amusement and amazement.

"So that's what it feels like," he said, grinning hesitantly at Abdiel and Melmoth. His gaze then focused on the Fire Throne. "Is that you, sister?"
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Besides being caught in Anjali's sightlines, Miranda quickly took note of Aspasia's nearby scent. "Mom!" the girl quietly exclaimed, as she was relieved to know she was in the vicinity. Her elation was brief as she returned her focus to providing cover fire for them to reach the convenience store.

Up above, Aspasia kept low to a degree as she scoped out the best way to reach the floor. There was a drop of a few feet from the ventilation duct and then a few roofs of the stores that had been set up in the the level. Judging by their position, the Fauness and vampire would have to cross over to access where the trio were. Aspasia made the leap and landed on the roof of a food court. She carefully and quickly bounded from roof to roof until she reached the top of the convenience store. Timing the girls' shots, she slipped down in between their gunfire and landed near the entrance.

Joyful at her return, Miranda greeted her with a wide smile while maintaining her thinning of the enemy numbers. "Where have you been, Mom? It feels like ages since I saw you!"

The former commander lightly chuckled. "It definitely feels like it's been that long!" She glanced at Regis. "How have things been here? Seems like Mira and Anjali are quick learners to handling those rifles!"

***

"It comes with being among so many mortal civilizations," Matriel addressed "We have our own names, but mortals are keen to come up with their own words for us."

As he followed Nergal, he sighed with some annoyance. "You're correct in noting the risk, but would you rather we sit on our laurels and not be here to aid in the fight for the world we collaborated to create? That reminds me of our main foe's tactics of sitting back and letting his underlings combat. If we had played it safe, I'm sure someone would be calling us out on our hypocrisy. I requested Ariel's presence because I didn't want to leave the Tower without a backup of my rank, not with a mole situation and not with demons storming it. They needed all the help they could get."

***

Ciaran seems somewhat skeptical at Arthur's proposal, while the weary dryad mulled over it for a minute. She then nodded. "At this point, I can't dismiss any boost I can get. If it'll diminish the pain and allow me to focus better, then I'll take you up on your offer."

***
Nami was surprised to hear about Melmoth's plan using Mammon's wealth, but she smiled. "That's quite the ruse! I suspect that he used quite a bit of smoke and mirrors to pull that con off!" she commented impressively before returning her gaze to the horizon in search of the Infernal copy of the White House.

***

The fiery Elemental nodded. "It is; this is just a form I've assumed to throw off who I am. Having a certain ominous presence works just as well as sending fireballs at the enemy! It'll also come in handy when any further forces come this way to access Mammon's horde, and I can melt it to slag," she addressed.

"How does being corporeal feel?" she asked while keep an eye on any incoming demons.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

Post by Karl the Mad »

Being the subject of anyone's amorous advances was so far outside Marius' current frame of reference that he could only stare blankly throughout Tom's explanation and display. The aroma piqued something in the back of his mind, but they didn't have time for him to rediscover his sexuality so he pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand. "...you do too, I guess," he replied lamely, reaching out for one of the cables and getting a firm grip. "On three, then. One, two... THREE!"

If he hadn't just donated some blood he was sure he could have handled the task single-handedly. As it was, he was glad to have Tom's help in heaving on the lines until the elevator came free and came downward; reflexively he stepped back, pulling Tom along and twisting so that his body was shielding the warlock's. There was a crash, a rush of air, and some metal debris thrown, but it bounced harmlessly off the vamp's back and fell to the floor. He waited a second longer to make sure things were settled, then let go of Tom, doing his best to ignore the lingering sex smells wafting about in the air. Hopefully his little hero moment hadn't exacerbated them too badly.

"Doors fell shut," he muttered, taking a moment to force them open. The inside of the cab was a mess, of course, but as promised the trapdoor leading up was open. "Alright, we can half-ass a way out of here if anyone needs air, or something, but it's not very fresh outside right now," he warned Tom.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

Initially, Tom couldn't quite keep a pleased chuckle from leaving him, some part of him knowing he had the means of making Vlastos actually mean that awkward retort - but his more rational mind quickly turned the burst of suggestive laughter into a sobering cough. He closed his eyes, furrowed his brow for an instant, and was seemingly back to normal an instant later. His hormone cocktail and more obvious visual signs would need a minute or two to adjust, but the unrepentant hedonist coiled within the Infernalist was effectively pushed back.

"You first," he said, looking a bit too much like he bow was actively avoiding looking at the Alexandrian, even if he kept his tone professional. "Maintaining the power I'd need to be able to lift you bodily isn't worth it on the long run. There's a series of ladders leading up all the way along the tower, and all the floors are marked. We might need to pay attention, first - the lobby was the first point of ingress the enemy would've had access to if Drake and Wallace's front line gave out. I don't care how fast or strong you are, you'd still be vulnerable for as long as you'd need to open the floor's elevator doors by hand. Be careful. The freight elevator's doors on the lobby's floor are at the end of a corridor. We won't be in full view, but we're liable to make noise."

He waited a few moments for Vlastos to start to climb, and then sighed as he pulled himself up with several grunts. "This is the part where I wish possession came complete with working bodily homeostasis - I've got thirty pounds to lose I'll never be able to shed!"

Another grunt as he gripped the cabin's top hatch and pulled himself up again, also after Marius. "At least I won't be winded out by those four ladder landings! Pros and cons of the gig, I guess!"

Topside, Woodford grimaced as he also took a few shots before answering the former commander. "Indeed," he said, "and young miss Holden more disturbingly so than your daughter! I suppose there will be time to relay my concerns to Lord Holden whenever some semblance of sanity returns to this place!"

He wouldn't have the time to elaborate further, however, as Aidan was heard screaming over the zombie demons' moans. "VOLKER!" he shouted. "BEN, DAMNIT - GET BACK IN FORMATION!"

The possessed anthro wolf was dimly heard snapping something back - possibly something unkind - before adding a rage-filled scream that was quickly interrupted by a brassy demonic yelp. Aidan screamed the wolf's given name once more, only for Bucky to be dimly heard. He sounded concerned, yes, but also exhausted. He'd possibly pushed himself to his limits and had likely emptied his boiler of nearly all steam pressure. Paimon was heard shouting that he'd provide relief for a while, and ordered Shamus to go "sustain" himself. A few moments later, the lobby's front gates were momentarily unlocked, and a haggard human and Meiji Era-Clank staggered inside, barely working up the strength to help the reservists lock everything back down.

By now, Bucky's steam-powered "heartbeat" was dangerously audible - and equally dangerously low. He dragged his temple sword for a few steps, then let it clang to the floor as he raised a hand in apparent supplication towards Aristide, Aspasia and the others. He didn't quite stop, however, but instead crawled to the central fountain, into which he unceremoniously dunked his head. Water wasn't food, but it would at least keep him running. Inhumanly long gurgling noises left him as he tried to submerge himself while leaving his head's integrated steam pipes out of the water. Slowly, the puffs of steam that left him became more regular and thinned out. His wrist-mounted gauge was shifting from the red segment to the yellow one, making it clear that even draining the fountain of water wouldn't suffice in and of itself. His body needed solid fuels, and his mind likely required rest. As for Aidan, the soldier settled with wiping an already-stained wrist over a somewhat worrying nosebleed, and was obviously working through a garden variety of bruises and cuts. He sat down on the fountain's edge and gave the group an empty gaze, then looking back to Shamus' left arm. He patted it a few times, the Clank not even stopping his voracious gulping of the fountain's water to give a thumbs-up.

Seeing this, Aristide barked a few orders in Haitian Creole and pushed his zombies to the front doors. "What happened to Volker?" he asked. Not having fully recovered, Three answered in-between pants.

"Gone... AWOL. Turned vicious. Wasn't just killing tangoes by the time I called out..."

He looked back to Aspasia. "He was torturing them. Got off of it, I think. I saw one of Wrath's circlet things shoot straight for him a few times. Threw him to the ground, once. I think..."

The human paused and shook his head. "I think he wants it. Dunno, can't read shit into this now - too tired. Head's in a vice... Paimon and the Irregulars won't be able to back us up for long. Big guy's injured. Used to... shrug off everything, but I think he's starting to be invested in us, enough so he's lost whatever Pitspawn credit kept him going."

Aidan sighed loudly to try and catch his breath. "Big length-wise slash down his left arm; could see bone in places. I'd be out of it if I were him and he's already lost some stamina. Not a lot of bleeding last time I checked, but it's increasing the more he moves his arm. Tried to object, told me he'd report me to Archie if I didn't retreat."

Bucky likely tried to say I'm better, now! from beneath the fountain's surface, but all that came out were gurgling noises and a small torrent of fat air bubbles. Aristide spotted something in the water and bent down to fish it out. He winced as his fingers uncurled, having picked up the broken stem of Bucky's tengu nose.

* * *

"I know you're willing to take this risk and I understand why," explained Nergal as they kept moving, "but I've worked with the Goat in eons past; I wouldn't have Fallen, otherwise. I know how he thinks. If it were me in your shoes, I would have sent a proxy of myself, some figment of my power, into the cosmic void - reached out to those other parcels of frozen water and leap-frogged my way to the closest alien civilization. Just to make sure."

Ereshkigal kept her eyes on the park as they moved and eventually circled it, now coming up behind the climbing and almost torrential mass of Damned racing to follow after Lucifer and his allies. "Closest star is Proxima Centauri, the mortals here skipped it and made contact with the Gliese natives. Nergal and I are entirely steeped in Earth's culture, but Creation dispersed us to the four corners of the Universe. There's other Heavens constructed by long-lost distant cousins of ours - and certainly other Hells. Other cultural reflections of the Afterlife too far removed from ours to simply fold into our three local planes of existence..."

Nergal looked at his wife. "You're saying the Goat wouldn't simply content himself with our closest neighbours. 
- Too obvious," nodded Erin. "Gliese's moon was a prison colony, thousands of federated worlds spent generations sending the worst of their criminals there, locked in Stasis. If we'd travelled more, we'd have references, some idea as to whomever might be willing to pick up the Goat's torch, on the advent of his defeat. If fixing us isn't enough of an incentive, then the glory of conquest certainly won't fail.
 - Or cheap thrills," noted Archie. "I'm sure all those present here, Crystal excluded, remember the British Raj's years..."

Lyman pouted as he kept an eye on their still-unaware enemies. "I certainly couldn't forget," he said. "There's more to gluttony than strictly an excess of foods. Englishmen of supposedly high breeding and moral stature parading their enslaved Punjabi families around like prized possessions, the wives used as domestic servants and husbands as porters and coolies... I gather the Goat had a few similar long-term goals for Humanity."

Standing as close as they could to the outpouring of Infernal flesh, Archie noted how simply scaling the building - even from the inside - wouldn't be possible without help. Lyman could possibly enlarge himself to occupy the horde, but one interrogative look between the android and himself settled the matter. The pink demon could still be quickly overpowered. Archie was about to pull out his cane to inspect the building's facade, when Nergal stopped him and narrowed his eyes.

"The Fiends are flowing away from this window," he said, pointing. "There is something... darker than even them, lying in wait, there."

Crouching low, Erin lowered her eyes and quietly sniffed the air. "I smell fear and sadness in that pocket. The rest of the horde is teeming in raw hatred, but all that's radiating forth from that window is... regret.
- Azazel," sighed Nergal. "Approaching him would be unwise - his aura of influence would leave us tactically weak. He'll have sensed us - he'll want to reach us to try and ask for assistance."

Archie looked uncertain. "Is this dangerous?
- He would cause us to lose sight of our goals, to lay blame on him beyond all reasoning. Even if we could assist him, his own influence would push us to reject him. It explains his pitiful state. Imagine eons of constant rejection, and the sort of resentment and desperation this would nurture in anyone.
- Well, my mind is no longer physical," noted Archie. "There is no biochemistry between my ears for any curse to tweak.
- Curses care little for the scaffold a mind rests on," somberly opposed Nergal. "You might last longer, your lover would last the least," he said, glancing back at Crystal. "Her wolf half only has animal cunning, it could not overpower a curse put in place by the Goat."

Archie pursed his lips. "We cannot enter Hell through the same gate, there is a torrent of demonic flesh in the way. If anyone of you opened a gate here and now, it would be seen. Azazel stands poised to offer us the access - and stealth - we might require.
- He would," hissed Nergal, "and then you'd feel compelled to shoot him in the back! Do you think you really stand a chance against a being who's elected you as the output for thousands of years of suffered abuse?!"

* * *

Dickens moaned as he doubled over. "I- I can't do it," he said, "it'll have to be either Arthur or Alana!"

Arthur gave his lover an interrogative glance. "I've only just climbed a metaphorical hill after several days spent siring ferals Rothchild had to trap underground because of my negligence. I'd feel safer if you volunteered."

* * *

Lucifer led them forward, occasionally turning back to glance at the strangely distant portal they'd initially come out of. After a few times, Lucian nodded back and reassured the Lightbringer as to their headway's nature. Past the Monument waited a few barren hills and past these obstructions, the partially-sunken frame of the White House came into view. Allocer gestured for them to stop and placed a knee down.

"The Goat knows we were liable to attempt something like this, so he's liable to have placed defenses. Let's give ourselves a bit of time to reconnoiter..."

Joining the city's deposed administrator, Lucian bent light in front of the group and magnified the front, East and West porticoes. The West wing was partially sunken in, which would likely make progress on foot inside the building a bit of a nauseating prospect. The dome was cracked, and their angle made it difficult to see if anything could potentially guard the middle rooms and corridors from above. Each of the three doors had its two guards, but the East wing's position made its guardians apparently more than a little complacent: they could be seen dithering about, pacing or possibly exchanging small talk, and paid little attention to their sightlines. The back of the White House had no lawn to speak of, a section of Mammon's vault pressing in rather close to it.

"We could always circle around," noted Lucifer, "try and slip in from the back...
- The East Wing won't be difficult to take," countered Allocer. "We can take them out quietly, Veil a pair of us in their likeness, hide their bodies and request a shift change. One of my old colleagues was probably left behind to lead the local forces."

Crouching low, Lucifer couldn't repress a sly grin. "You'd make a nice catch, I'll admit," he noted, and you're too big to fit any Veil for those two," he said, pointing at the guards. "So would Rothchild; the Loyalists would probably pay a pretty penny to have him brought low..."

The Void Weaver nodded. "Assuming we reach the Resolute Desk, how do we check for the launch controls for Brimstone rods?
- I physically overpower that colleague and you use your gifts to scan the room and the Desk. President Jones had the original base panel replaced with a collapsible desktop OLED and had an SFF PC inlaid in part of the new one and of its drawers. Big red telephones have been out for decades, now everything related to the Presidential executive aspects runs off of homebrew hardware and software. Nami should be able to crack it and access the launch controls."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "I imagine a former commander in Pride's ranks knows this because his own commander-in-chief had aims to flatter himself using similar means..."

Allocer grunted. "Same reason as to why I never had City Hall razed when I took control. You don't fix what isn't broken - not when you can claim ownership of it  and gloat about it..."

* * *

Hesediel did much the same, his wings fading out of view as he spun around to clip a Fiend on the jaw using his hammer. The blow looked fairly light, but the demon reacted as though a battering ram had clotheslined it across the cheek; its neck bending at an unnatural angle thanks to the momentum and the body falling limp.

"It's a lot to take in, a lot to register!" he called over the mêlée. "Earth and stone aren't exactly used to having eyes and ears, at least not without Godly concession! Otherwise, there'd be about one golem per physical being, on this planet! You're all a lot busier than my usual fare, I'll say that much!"

William knew they couldn't wait long, however. "We really should proceed with our plan!" he reminded the Throne, to which Hesediel nodded. "Keep them off me," he asked of the others, "and brace yourselves! Give my thanks and apologies to the local dryad, when you'll see her!"

Stone then crept over the Throne's form, until Hesediel resembled a crudely-carved statue of himself. Strangely, he remained just as mobile as before, even if every point of contact with the ground looked like the ground's stone and soil were rising up and out of the crust to meet him. Then, after clearing a space for himself with a few hammer strikes and kicks, he effectively dove towards the ground in the same way Scrooge McDuck would have in his money bin, disappearing with an odd grinding sound and the strange sensation of something squirming beneath the park's surface. The grinding sound soon rose to the level of an earthquake's rumble and, slowly, a gash began to open along the park's length. It obviously was small enough to let most demons jump across at first, but the Fiends soon reached the point where the only remaining passable avenue involved running along the rim of this new caldera of sorts, to where both lips still met at jumpable distances. Even that didn't last, however, as buildings on either side of Centennial Park were heard groaning. Pipes were heard bursting, water and steam jutted upwards, and ragged slashes that tore across a few storefronts and apartment stories opened up to gaping holes, as the small caldera in the park turned into a genuine rift.

As expected, the Pit's forces could no longer cross the park to meet with their Celestial enemies, not without flying or leaping across. The ground kept shaking, however, as the entire rear table of the park began to rise, inch by inch - and as demons began to realize what was transpiring. As for Melmoth, a seemingly unseen signal made him smirk meanly and billow in size and shape, drifting off to the left of the park until he effectively looked like himself - if he'd been allowed to simply burst out of the ground as a twelve feet-tall torso.

"And, with unsuspecting compliments from Mammon," he said, smirking as he cupped his hands together and turned their suggested crevice into a portal. What began as a slow trickle of gold and of a wide gamut of luxury goods from various time periods turned into an outpour, the resulting noise causing even the angels to stop and stare. Melmoth now looked a bit like a grotesque twist on the Aquarius figure, with rejuvenating waters and their simple vasque traded for the demon's bling-encrusted fingers and a cacophonous stream of gold, diamonds, clattering weapons, crunching supercars and the flutter of a myriad bank notes drifting in the wind like ersatz autumn leaves. Even an entire yacht rode in on the demon's stream of gold, first resting atop a mound of filthy lucre and then groaning as its mass was compacted under yet more gold, more luxury goods and more trinkets of obvious overcompensation. The first few demons jumped in willfully, the others forced to follow suit as the back of the park was further lifted by Zadkiel, Melmoth continuing to pour pound after pound of gross luxury over them, choking the life out of them with the very prizes most had hoped to claim. 
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