"Natalia's too far gone, killing children-? This is beyond our original goal, we agreed when we joined up with her that we would only exterminate when it was needed! This is bullshit!"
Slamming his hand right down onto the table, the drinks and cigarettes flew before rolling on the furniture as they ground to a halt. Leaning back as the metal stood engraved upon his skin, covering the outline of his head, his grey orbs rolled around his eyeballs. Inhaling that toxic smoke into his body, the man he was sitting across from simply let out a sharp exhale from his lungs as he rubbed his forehead wiping off the sweat that'd drenched his tanned coloration. Leaning forward, the man scratched at the long scar circulating his neck to his nape as if making a circular motion.
Beginning to raise his head, the scars would be seen as they slid up his cheeks to the bottom of his eyes as if a tattoo pattern. His sky blue eyes as if mirroring Miller's had shifted, the top of the pupils colored with a purple palette, they shared looks. One of absolute doubt and curiosity while the other was filled to the brim as if oozing and dripping with sureness and determination. Their names unknown, but from the passionate way the man on the left spoke and the man on the right stared, it was sure enough that they knew their leader. She was more than a leader, it seemed, but a close friend they cherished and worried about. Beginning to stand as the garbling of that sound entered their eardrums, the grey-haired one felt the peeling mechanical whirring of the mask as it attached to his skin embedding itself to his hide that protected that layer of flesh underneath.
The goggles began to slide themselves over his face whilst a skull-like skeletal part retracted from the metal pieces on his face covering his mouth. Snarling in annoyance from the signal of aid meaning their presence was needed, he atomized himself and shrunk down to the lower levels so he could travel through that small dimension and reappear at his destination. Meanwhile, the discolored heterochromatic simply tapped the back of his finger so his knuckle would unleash a distinctive glow from the inside of his flesh- right then and there, the hood was pulled up over his face. The shadows darkening every pet of his face so that only the mysterious and ethereal glow from his optics could remain in the dark created by this pocket of black. The shrouds began to leak out and extend from his natural jacket as if it were the torn cloak of Satan, walking casually and disappearing into the dimly-light halls of the hideout.
"Time to go to work,"
As if a panther, there he stood, sitting at the edge of the roof as he examined and scanned everything from the peak of the structure. Every single noise, step, the singing of a singular blade- everything went was registered to a lightning-quick speed as it went through and was observed by the Four Eyes technique. His discolored pupils illuminating the opposite amount of Kaye that surrounded every part of his surroundings, the technique he utilized imbued with every inch of power as he examined and searched for the truth. Grunting in affirmation with a cocky smirk sliding upside his lips, the Reaper tilted his head so he could barely make a glance at the rest of his stalking allies to his back. The rainbow-like differentiating palette of their eyes began to glisten in the shadows, faces obscured for only when the thunder strikes in the night did their faces begin to brighten from the crackle of lightning as it hit somewhere random. Simply turning his head back forward, the former Crow of Justice began to kneel beside his partner and rival. There was a certain glare in their eyes, that opposed their ideologies as August simply stood up straight, spinning around, back turned to the sights of the glowing city to his rear. Stretching out his arms, he let himself fall as Emma and Beau had already reached the ground.
The duo grunting as the Strength landed on the back guard that'd been patrolling against to the front, liquidating their insides with a simple touch to the back. And just then, they'd thrown up, the immense heat reaching up and infusing to touch his brain before it exploded in a ball of guts and blood. As the bits of blood and the droplets of gore began to burn away against his superheated palm, the Strength heard the teasing whistling of the Frosty Fortune. Turning his head, he caught the glimpse of her leaning against the frozen statue of the iced guard, organs turned to nothing but solid. Letting out an exhale with a mischievous look in her eyes, Beau rolled his eyes as they both swiftly vanished into the darkness, infiltrating together as August pulled at the fabric of his trench coat landing so the lengthiness of the back would spread against the floor as his soles touched the platform.
Shoving his hands into his pockets so he could nonchalantly warp through the front entrance that protected against the Requiem Reaper's destructive power. Clapping his palms together, the Detective Prince put out his hand so that the Sun could take it, and just then- they vanished into a splice in space to infiltrate. Genesis and her lover were all that remained, as they locked hands, she took a simple step off of the edge- her body engulfed by the neon light she manipulated with ease. Entrails and tendrils of pink lightning popping out from her chest so she could register as nothing but a simple straight blur.
The Reaper knew the power of their enemy, seeing as he'd spent the majority of his youth and adulthood in that Temple between the gateway between dream and reality. It didn't have an exact name given by the Capital ruled by his Father, even his knowledge wasn't unlimited so August took it upon himself to name it on his own. 'Reorganization; The enhanced ability to either destroy or put together parts depending on the target.' When he'd read about it the journals of his grandfather, he'd been unaware of who'd held this immense capability, the memory of seeing the records play in front of him intrigued him.
"So, Natty, this is your power... huh? Touch a person and heal yourself so that you fuse with them, then heighten your powers to become some big fucking monster thing. I've been waiting for someone like you, maybe for once, I'll get an actual fucking challenge. Let's have fun, Natalia.."
His powerful stroll through the halls of the Smithsonian began to reverberate through the infrastructure, arms raising so his bones Paul's crack and let out noise from the inside of his hide of skin. Bodies fell out of entrances and on the catwalks above, pushed over the railing so they could fall to his front as he pushed his leg over the corpse. Blood leaking out as the icicle lodged in their throat began to turn to water, Genesis disappeared into another of her neon blurs of pink. Her hair moving as she swayed back to her rear for a moment as it moved with the wind, the Lovers phased through the left entrance of the walkway so she could enter a library of knowledge and presentations.
Flipping off into a ball before she stuck her hands out, she stuck out her legs so she could land a flying kick to the side of their outfitted skulls. Blood spitting out from her mouth, she managed to descend upon their back- then turning her head as she saw that another of those Crow-themed pawns had aimed their rifle at the girl. Staring them down for just a moment, she watched as the energy pulse phased through the streak of light created by her feet repeatedly and rapidly rapping against the ground at an enormous breakneck speed. Just then, her shoulder had been turned around so that it was the sole driving force of her attack so that the speed and the impact from the force accumulated as the body of the guard were sent flying back into a pile of books. Their back making a crack appear a sit spread through the concrete that was imbued into the building, she managed to catch them by their leg before they hit the ground and through them through the closed entrance to this section of the library.
Tumbling and rolling against the platform of boards that made up the lower level, as he faded to unconsciousness- August stepped right on their head without regard for their pathetic life. Gen sighing at her older brother's uncaring attitude as he destroyed their brains with a simple step, the girl saved a sympathetic look for her big brother. That look on his face, the constant smirk accompanied by that look in his eyes filled to the brim like alcohol filling up a glass, spoke only one word to her. The need. She'd grown up with this man, to her, she'd always believe that this was the big brother she admired and always led her. Always intimidating those boys she dated when she was younger, one even mysteriously disappeared from their school one day.
He was always so protective, so caring and loving for those he'd loved and cared for; even those he didn't know, he'd show compassion and sympathy for. When Celine had perished at the experimental hands of the Mad Scientist, Demiurge in disguise of the victim It'd overtaken, even then, despite being consumed and entirely overtaken by grief- he was the same.
Of all the people in the world, she'd believe that she'd notice the most when her big brother would change from the person she admired and believed would always do the right thing. Even when Azazel was recruited into their ranks and aided to defeat Kuno, she didn't distrust his decision, because that was her brother. She was supposed to know her brother. Better than even Emma, despite them all being siblings, she was his twin; they were born on the same day...
But now, all she could look at him with were dejected and sympathetic eyes as if mourning the man he'd used to be. It was as though August Rivera had perished on that day, and the only thing that remained in his skin was none other than The Requiem Reaper himself. As she reached out her hand to maybe get his attention before he went onward to locate Natalia, the words he'd declared back at the loft echoing in her mind, "Well, then, what're we waiting for... let's kill them and leave them begging for mercy..." Just then, her wrist was grabbed, not by her lover- but her older sister, of all people. Emma shared that same look, not even sparing a glance at her sister but then keeping her focus on August. Without even stating a word, the girls understood one another, and just then- they went along with their objective so that they could vanish into the shadows cast by the lanterns of the primitive past and the lights of the future manufactured by man.
The Reaper kept that smug look over himself, arms behind his back and fingers interlocked together. Everything went together as planned and expected, the future and fate of time acted around him. He was a god, he wasn't powerless- he couldn't be, he had to prove himself. To himself, yes, that's what he meant, he'd moved on from her, he truly had! He just needed to slaughter her, right then and there without mercy. Just do what he could... do what he could.
To make sure these murders suffered and died in the worst way possible, without mercy, slow... their fingers ripped off and their cut-open guts. Do what he could, to destroy this organization-
Once... and for all.
As she felt the grip that he'd had on her begin to fade, she smiled, and he took a simple forward step. Advancing to the front door, he then turned some lone strands of hair that'd curled over his forehead and prohibited a small fraction of his vision began to sway with the wind. Just as he was about to turn back, her hands went to his shoulders and her fingers began to dig into his skin and massage his bones. Feeling the moment of unease wash away like a wave of purity throwing over him, Alexander exhaled- this was just another test. A stage and a trial that he'd been waiting for his whole life, he'd felt the fragments beginning to place together back when he first went to locate and bring back the Key in Italy when the Truth emerged for the frost time in a while.
The words of the caring woman began to leak into his eardrums as if honey was being dripped into tea, soothing his skin as he felt the shock of relief smooth over him. He felt so much at home with her and yet- he knew what he had to do, he couldn't stay here with her, he couldn't rely on her to solve all of his problems. So, he stepped forward and entered this place, the door pushing open so he could stare ahead. Each of his steps pushing him onward so he could search the inner workings of the house, fingers brushing against the wooden material of the drawers and the walls. Alex winced at the memories as they all came coming back to him, the imaginary vision of himself with the younger version of his lover now running out the door with her in his hand, subconsciously leaving his uncle alone.
Just then, his voice began to ring out to him, stained with the elder color of white in his beard. Back hunched and coughing into the napkin he'd held, Amara stared right back at his bastard of a relative with a murderous glare. He couldn't kill him here though, he was a defenseless old man clinging on to the very string of life just to spite his nephew. He had to control himself, no matter how much he hated this useless piece of shit, and just then, they sat beside him across from one another. The bedroom was empty, all that remained were the scratches left by demons and infiltrators that'd tried to eat him during the Invasion. Seeing as how he'd always hidden a rifle somewhere, it seemed right away this old bastard was alive despite it.
The seats were designed for this meeting, Riley entering late so she could stay outside in case something happened- in case he needed someone after everything. Watching as they disappeared into the entrance of the room, Sam sat at the bottom of the steps leading upward and sighed. This was going to be something, she knew it.
And there they sat, uncle and nephew, the last living member of the old generation of the Amara bloodline staring down the first piece in a puzzle belonging to the new one. Alex felt himself drawn to the whip he'd carried on his waist, putting it in his lap after his leg crossed against the other so he could push his hands together and interlock his fingers. Preparing to state something likely manipulate or mentally abusive to attempt to get Alex or something to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, the Judge went first. Bluntly stating without regard for his feeling and avoiding sugarcoating altogether,
"Why did you all treat me the way you did? I was a boy and you guys filled me with nothing but hatred and abuse. Was it some sort of resentment for me or enviousness? Tell me why,"
"I don't.. have a true reason. My sister and her husband were avid followers of that man, he was like a God to them. So they followed his will and listened to everything they said. He never told them or me about why he chose you, he just decided- it had to be you,"
Alexander exhaled, resting his hands over his eyes as he'd thought about this new information he'd been given at the hands of his uncle. The way he spoke was so surefire, there was no sour that he'd known the abuse and trauma at the hands of his parents. Amara couldn't help but laugh at such a thought, that no matter what, he wasn't special- he was chosen at random. Or so he'd thought. Maybe he was just trying to convince him of this, that he didn't matter and that he should give up this crusade. The next thing that his so-called family member had said... was horrible,
"I don't know why you believe you even mattered to this world, with that man gone, you have no purpose. You were meant as a weapon of destruction right from the start... don't try to be anything more,"
Just then, he'd thrown his chair out the window behind him, glass shards about to hit the ground as the metal from the hair had begun to tear off that shape. The glass and the metal began to obey only him, and as Amara's hair untied itself from the orderly bun, he glared... fight ahead. With a simple shine of his eyes, his pathetic excuse of an uncle had his flesh and body pierced by the abruptness of stinging aching pain. The shards embedded into his legs and arms leading up to his palms and feet began to leak out that maroon fluid, the Judge scoffing at the sight as he tied up his hair once more into a bun. Holding it between those rows of teeth for a moment, he slid up a bunch of strands together as it wrapped around the abundance of locks.
"You're right, you old piece of shit. I was born for no fucking reason, the only purpose I had in my life before now was to destroy and obliterate without regard for anything. And do you want to know... do you wanna fucking know why..? Because you made me! You MADE me this way, and I'm never going to forgive you. I might not be special but I have people that care about me, I have my blood. I'll end you all, once and for all,"
Just then, he stormed right out of the bedroom, blinking for just a moment as the blades squished against his flesh. Splashes of blood barely scratching the surface about to reach the side of his face before he stepped out of the way, staring right down at his foster mother from above at the top of the stairway. But- he couldn't spend one more second in this physical plane of existence as the spirits of that other word began to wash over him.
It was like a dream, everything was so fake and bleak, the eyes of spirits long past began to watch over them as they conversed together in the Void of the Mind. He stood there, the same always, without a shirt but his hair tied up into a bun.
Tapping his hand against his chest, he felt nothing but the imaginary softness of his grey hoodie again his chest. He no longer had the long strands that slid down to cover his nape, now, he dawned that first look he'd had when he'd joined the Academy all those years ago in 2052. He took a seat in the liquid pool of the floor, knees bunched up together as the Truth couldn't even spare a glance at his fellow personality,
"What the fuck is going on with you? Did you forget your purpose? Your true meaning?" Seeing as how there was no point to argue about such things, the Vessel decided to shrug at the question. Sighing at the inquiry as he debated everything that'd led up to this moment, the Invasion, the Infiltration, the Angel of Death. The Vessel and the Truth spared the same look, two sides of the same coin, both at war with one another for generations for control. Dominance. Alex's psyche was fractured, even punishing his uncle seemed to do nothing for them. So, the Truth began to stand from his seated position so he could pace around his opponent. "We were designed as a weapon, bred and born for that VERY purpose. Destroy and obliterate everything in our path. You're still... having a hard time accepting that, aren't you?"
The Vessel had believed that when he was chained to that chair by the Superior- that feeling of ecstasy as the Truth finally took over for just a short moment. However, things were different now, and as the Vessel parted his lips- he began to say something. Whitney's words still echoed in his mind, not only his but that of his ex's and Rose's too from when their foreheads had touched together in that horrible place. How could he ever accept something like that?
"How am I ever supposed to accept that bullshit? I want to believe that I was born with a purpose, I have to believe that, back then, I thought I'd did. But I was still living a delusion, that I believed my life had a purpose beyond that. That I was born into this world and I was special. I was chosen for a reason to become a Requiem, wasn't I..?"
The Truth rubbed at the stubble on his chin for a split second as he contemplated a correct answer to this line of questioning. So, as he threw his jacket over his chest that was tinted with a darker grey than the Vessel's hoodie that began to unzip as he stood up from the opponent's hand signal, he assumed a fighting stance. Widening his eyes at the sight of this, he was caught off-guard by the sudden erratic movement of his other-self. The Vessel had no idea had to react, putting up his arms so he could simply block a punch to the face. Jumping up for a second to dodge the sweep at his feet, he dropped his arms for a second and landed right on his feet crouching upon his descent. The Vessel then widened their eyes, barely able to register the quickness of his strikes as each of them went for one of his vital parts of his body. Each of the punches and hits, even the kicks to the back of the leg seemed to go so fast that lightning was registered from the swift nature of the attacks,
"Advance! If you're a man, there's no other way to go but forward! ACCEPT THE TRUTH!!! SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE CAPABLE OF!!"
Just as the final punch was about to break through his defense, his hair began to spark and electrocute as if a lightning bolt had been thrown through his strands. Grunting in irritation as he fell to his knees in exhaustion, the aura began to leak out as if gasoline was being poured out from the tank of a car. As the tendrils tore off his skin, the whip began to unravel itself from the aura of chaotic Requiem energy he'd been kept dormant for all this time. The Truth watched with an ecstatic look painted right over his face as the wind began to untie his hair from the bun it was locked in. Widening his eyes as a blade went flying toward the front of his face, he attempted to sidestep out of the way with the grey pieces and bolts of electricity crackling off of his shoulders and anatomy. But then- abruptly, it halted and stopped right at the tip of his nose, right when he'd expected himself to move.
Tendrils of that shocking energy beginning to spark and send goosebumps across the spirit physical form the Truth took. His smile began to curve even further from the edges of his lips push closer against his cheeks. As the gust of wind pushed him back so that his feet began to flail, arms too, the Personality halted his continuous movement with a simple pushing out of his hand. Losing his grip on the air as the force named telekinesis began to slide out of the tightness of the hand, the Truth stared in astonishment as the light from the energy began to reflect into his eyes. He felt the pull of hatred as every bit of skin that'd formed his tanned skin began to tear itself off as if ripped without mercy from a hand, if it were anyone else, they'd be experiencing an intense horrible amount of agony. Screaming and crying as they begged for mercy to live, but all the Truth could do, the second his eyeballs were squished together so they'd pop right out of the sockets, was smile. The epidermis later revealed itself for just a split second, still, the shell that half of himself inhabited- and just as the skill began to reveal itself with the last fragments of his flesh peeling off to be sucked into that tornado of hate and strength, that smile could never fade.
The Vessel stood right in the center of that whirlwind as it began to build together and piece the Truth, as that split personality was patched into the inner workings of his anatomy. There was nothing more he could do if he stood silent and just watched, felt it all happen, keep lying to himself about his purpose in his world. He was never born for this, the purpose that God had cursed into his flesh, the guts, the veins, and streams of blood. There was nothing left but the True Self, the Shadow of the Past began to crumble as the New began to Rise.
On the outside, she'd tried to reach over as the tip of her finger felt a sting against the invisible barrier. Creating a momentary wound then the telekinetic ethereal-like invisible entity she'd commanded pushed the skin together so that the burn could fade away as if it were never there. She didn't doubt that, despite whatever sensation he was enduring in the center of his fractured mind, he didn't want to hurt anyone, this was just another phase. He had to face himself; accept the destructive force that he truly was, stop being someone who he wasn't, no matter what, he would always be that thing.
"You can't keep... running..."
As the tiles began to tear off from the walls, the wood of the boards that composed the floor had begun to levitate into the air as the roof and ceiling began to burst apart. Attempting to simply get out having previously been enclosed had led a slab of wood to hit against her spine, and as she was thrown back, it went to embed itself against her soles and protect her landing her accordingly and safely. Letting out a sharp breath from her nostrils, she once more, attempted, to throw blast herself toward him with a gust of telekinesis waist about to send her into that whirlwind.
But nothing worked, it repelled her like the negative reacting to the positive energy of the Requiem, she was sent back. Rolling and bouncing against the street so that she'd slam right into the side of a parked hovercraft, Sam sighed. Guess there wasn't anything left to do... but watch, and hope.
Alex felt it all slide back into his mind, the memories of the past and the future binding as they piled up like rotten bodies of the Kingdom stacked together as though they weren't even human. No matter what, despite the time, despite the place, he was born for one purpose- it never mattered, acknowledge it, accept it. Move forward and advance, like a man would, without mercy, destroy and obliterate those who'd dare threaten that which he loved! AS HE CLAWED AT THE SCRATCHINESS OF HIS SKIN, THAT DISTURBING AUDIO BEGAN TO LEAK INTO THE AIR AS THE NAILS SCRAPED AGAINST THAT LAYER OF THE BODY. THE BLOOD MOVED LIKE THE DEFENDING SERPENTS OF TIME, SWIRLING AND CHAOTICALLY CONTORTING WITHOUT CONTROL FOR THEIR BODIES. UNNATURAL IN NATURE AND DEMONIC AT HEART, IT WAS AS IF THE DAGGERS HAD BEEN IMPLANTED INTO HIS VERY SKIN!
THEY ALL CRUMBLED TO PIECES!!! THE HOUSES, THE INNOCENTS AS THEIR SKIN WAS SINGED TO ASHES SO THAT NOTHING WOULD REMAIN! PATHETIC PIGS IN WAITING TO BE SLAUGHTERED IN PENS, HE FELT THE RUSH OF BLOOD AS THE ADRENALINE PUMPED INTO HIS BODY. BONES BONES SO HE COULD HEAR THAT SNAPPING SOUND ENTER THE ATMOSPHERE, THE JUDGE... couldn't help but laugh! This war, the battlefield that they'd fought one another on, there was no need, he was a tool of chaos and death. He might as well rid this world of anything useless while he was at it, being this thing of continuous hatred and darkness. There existed nothing left, Alexander Amara, the caring boy that'd believed he was destined to be something more, that his purpose was useless in this vast multiverse of gods, demons, and angels, had been EXTERMINATED!!
There he stood, as he raised above the clouds, the devilish influence within him began to expand and widen beyond belief. The debris lifting alongside him as the skeletons of those who'd been erased from this world followed gradually, and as he laid above the clouds, he stared out at the beauty of the scenery stretched out before him. It truly was... magnificent. The Requiem Judge, Alex, had been born, on that day. In June of 2059, as he raised open his arms giving the illusion if he were offering an embrace, he smiled. Those orbs charged with the intent to kill and murder, he licked his upper lip, as if stating above to the God who'd damned him with the curse of those abusive relatives-
"I am... Chaos..."
"How repulsive,"
There that statue remained, in all of its marvelous glory as of the bronze material it was composed of shined in the moonlight from the hole in the ceiling. Arms crossed over his chest, the coat he'd donned had no arms pushed into the sleeves, so his limbs had been free. Gazing with disgust in his eyes but that confident smirk never fading from his pink lips, August scoffed, sliding back his hair with a simple motion as his fingers and hand smoothed right through it. The Reaper felt the landings of his allies, the Fool Prince grunted as the tips of his fingers began to cushion his landing, knees bending outward then rising to examine the monument. Carved from the lower levels of metal for the boy that'd saved the world, August Rivera's metallic feet had dangled over the edge of the podium with Celine resting on his shoulder to his side.
Mei parted her lips about to speak out to her cousin for his disrespectful behavior, but she was advised against it as Azazel brought up his hand to stop her. Stepping back with a scoff, she pouted and stuck out her bottom lip like a little girl, as the male of the two began to step forward and comfort his brother-in-arms with a simple gesture. After ripping the glove from his hand by the tip of the finger, he felt it droop from the claustrophobic bone marrow pushed against his gums. But Rivera was cold, distant, just as he'd acted back then whence the man was nothing but a naive teenager. Gritting his teeth, he began to warp as his particles obeyed the will of the advanced technicalities of his enhanced Requiem strength.
Seeing as how their plan was working so far, Azazel saw to it to give them all plans and strategies to account for them not feeling useless. Pointing to Emma and Gen so they'd pair up, then to Beau and Mei, his index then went directly at Johnson's chest with a smirk. As he was directing his attention over to each of them with his finger, Karlo audibly assigned each of the group roles,
"Em, Gen, I need you to check the basement, if there's anything I know about organizations and criminals like these; it's that they like storing their idiotic shit in the basement like a gunrunning pedophile. Beau, Mei, guard the outside, make sure they can't call for backup. Set up defenses around this area, Matt, go with Gen,"
Turning around as the cloak moved with his legs, he took hold of it by the side and then gripped it by the fabric for just a moment. The Detective listened as Emma stepped forward to question her ally's next step, they'd all had assignments gifted especially by him, why was it that he didn't give himself one of those? Just then, as she questioned him- he faced right ahead without even returning a glance at her,
"What'll you be doing?"
As he unsheathed the blade and it hummed in response to that line of inquiry, the black blade began to illuminate, the shadow dancing as he spun it around to use it with his dominant left hand. He pressed both of the clippers that the cloak had been attached to so that it could fall and show his long sleeves, shoving the katana back into the cover magically drawn to his belt. The eyelids sliding shut over the azure tiny of his pupils, they reopened just for a second to show the blood, murderous intent leaking out from his optics with that sinister sadistic expression engraved on his lips and face. Orbs widened and pupils shrunken, the Detective decided to stare straight ahead, using one of his chains so it'd wrap around one of the sky beams as he swung off the ceiling and followed right after his delusional rival.
Emerging from the dark into the light, the Reaper's eyes stood closed, his hand digging into the pocket of his jacket so he could come up with sunglasses to put over his orbs of sight. Laughing at the sigh, he reached for the arms so his locks painted with a white hue began to move, mockingly staring down upon them as he began to comment sarcastically,
"Ah, so... it is what I think it is then. An 'ambush', huh?"
Appearing out from the glass containers of the exhibits, one of the bigger ones with huge bulging muscles began to brand an ax as he gave out labored breaths. Fitted with a skull mask, Rivera smirked as his head moved upward as if his eyes could see everything- ninja bastards outfitted with a white contrast to the usual black of stealth began to unsheath their swords. Spinning them around, more of the minions began to show themselves as the other two from the beginning began to reappear. The one with the ripped cape that would drag across the floor glaring right ahead, and the one that was able to able to atomize himself brandished weapons of their own. A spear for the former and two blades for the latter, and so, that one began to speak out loudly without a care in his mind. Loudly questioning the man in front of them,
"What do you got- against all of us?! You're bloody fucking useless against us... cunt,"
Yet another condescending laugh began to leak out from his mouth, the Requiem Reaper taking hold of his coat that'd stood over his shoulders. Tightening his grip against the fabric of the jacket, he stated strongly as if he didn't even care,
"Oh, trust me, 'wanker'," Mimicking his English accent like any true American would he yanked the coat from over him with a nasty disrespectful laugh as if he were God looking down upon every single one of His pathetic little subjects. His outfit underneath was composed of a sleeveless turtleneck with gloves that went from his elbow down to the rest of his hand. But even they began to perish and turn to ash as he simply turned his head, the steam projected from his breathing shadowing him from the gang's vision. As the gas cleared, there he was in all his glory shining and glowing with the Dark Determination of his father flaring up. The Requiem Reaper opened his eyes, both giving off their signature shine as he raised his hand with the index pointing out, pressing his thin against the bone so it'd break and repair immediately. Endowed yet cursed with that specific rasp in his voice, August Rivera declared, all with a smile on his face, "I got a lot... bitch."
To Be Continued in Chapter 72.
August, with Azazel, battle the Murder of Crows and faces off against The Plague, their leader. The Triplets meet their mother's spirit and Alex deals with the penultimate fusion of the Truth and the Vessel along with the consequences.