Sidhe Vicious

Not a lie. Not the whole truth either. Which begged the question of what would she do if things came to a boil when she was supposed to be watching? Would she step in, or just run with it to maintain her cover? She likes to think it's the former...Time will tell how accurate that is.

Brickstown 23:15 "It couldn't hurt." "That's what you said last time." "What's the worst-" "If you finish that sentence, I'm gonna boil your amygdala out through your ears." "Duly noted..." Psychlone sat in a pizza joint in Brickstown, munching on a slice of 'Paragon Garbage Pie.' Not bad, really. Her erstwhile conversation partners, two PPD officers and a rather unlucky cashier, stood staring at her blankly. "Still. Leverage." "That's right." The trio chorused in unison, in the exact same cadence and tone of Psychlone's voice. "Get the dagger. Sell it. Use it. Whatever you choose, It could keep the heat off of us." "Or drive it straight towards us." She pondered, chewing on the crust. "Still...Could be fun. What was that about a...Burning bird?" One of the officer's robotically marched over, showing her his phone. The video played. --------------------------------- "Oh, that's fun... Do you think we should say hi?" "What about the Cat?" "Is the Cat even real? I'm just getting flashes. It's like the Troll in the therapy group that you said wanted to kill us." "He was thinking it." "Still...Eh, keep an eye out. Use her too if it comes to it. Oh, and box some of this for the road, would you?"

Talos Island In the middle of 'The Warriors Wax Off' Barghast CW: Violence, Language There were more sirens than usual. Liz wished she could say the noise didn't put her on-edge, but she'd be lying if she did. Too many bad memories, combined with the general stress of being back in Paragon after everything that had happened. Still, it wasn't until she heard the first screams that she decided she couldn't ignore it any longer; the sound, distant on the ocean breeze, causing her to sit bolt upright, one pointed ear twitching. She got to her feet in one smooth motion, brushing dirt and fallen leaves from her muscular form as she glanced around the small natural area where she had been resting. As built up as Talos Island was, there were still a few green spaces. Though now that she was up and aware again, there was no pretending that the small cluster of trees was anything more than a decorative feature. She took a few sniffs, letting her keen senses filter out the immediate. Dirt and foliage, beyond that the salty tang of the ocean, beyond that car exhaust, garbage, the scent of people on the beach and the nearby walks...Behind it all, smoke. Gunpowder and steel. Fear and blood. She felt the familiar pull, the attraction to violence. Liz wished she could say it was because she needed to ensure people were safe. That it was a call to help those in need, and not her instincts telling her to hunt down whatever had disturbed her rest. To use the chaos as an excuse to seek prey. She could say so, but she would be lying if she did... No. She growled and took a breath. She was in control, not her instincts. It would only be a lie if she gave in. And, after all, there's no harm in just looking, right? Even if nobody needed help, it would be best to get a better grasp on what was going on. She paused for a moment, listening, sniffing the air, and getting her bearings. Then she was off, easily vaulting the fence around her temporary hideaway and leaping to a nearby fire-escape. Better to stick to the rooftops. Even with the agreement, and her 'parole', if this was as bad as it seemed to be she didn't trust the PPD -or even worse, Longbow- not to peg her as a threat and take a shot at her. Elizabeth Gunnisson may be trying to straighten out, but Barghast was still a name that carried a degree of infamy. Below her, the damage was growing worse and worse. Shattered glass littered the sidewalks, razor crystals reflecting the ruddy glow from torched storefronts and burned-out vehicles. Everything was covered in a haze of greasy smoke, stinging her eyes and burning her nostrils with petrochemical stink. A riot? She wasn't aware of anything that could have set one off, and this all seemed somehow more...Directed. From following the trail of destruction she could tell that whoever had done this had moved with purpose to one of the more high-end districts. This wasn't just random mayhem, they were carving their way into the busiest sections of Talos Island. Movement caught her eye, distinct from the panicked movements of fleeing citizens. PPD, a trio of them. Beat cops, not SWAT or the more esoteric specialized units. They were running, only one looked armed, all covered in dirt and superficial injuries. She could smell the sweat, the blood, the fear... Before her instincts could trouble her again, one of the men dropped, a wooden shaft sticking out from between his shoulder blades. Was that a goddamn javelin!? One of the officers stopped to help his friend, the other kept running. He, as it turned out, was probably the smart one as the Samaritan was quickly set-upon by his pursuers. Leather vests, headbands, fatigue pants. Festooned with an eclectic mix of chainmail, torques, and other anachronistic accoutrements. All brandishing axes, swords, or maces, all of which had obviously seen use despite their museum-piece appearance. Warriors. This didn't make any sense. The Warriors were just a street gang. Sure, they were full of pretentions about 'martial honor' and 'the old ways' but still...Protection rackets, muggings, and street fighting with the Trolls or Outcasts; that's what Liz expected from them. Trying to sack an entire district, and openly attacking the PPD, not so much. Perhaps Odysseus had finally snapped and decided to take Talos down with him in one last blaze of glory. The police officer bolted for a nearby ally, his assailants in hot pursuit. Oh well. Liz had exactly zero love for the Paragon Police Department, but the guy probably didn't deserve whatever the Warriors were about to do to him. Besides, she was curious as to what would make them act so overtly. She figured she'd ask. Politely. This was supposed to be a redemption arc, after all... ------------------------------------------------------ "He went in there! After him!" Acteon waved his sword over his head like an ancient war-leader rallying his troops. A not-entirely inaccurate analogy, all things considered. He certainly looked the part, with muscular arms covered in angular tattoos, a red headband under a scalp shaved apart from a long braid down the middle, and dueling scars on his cruel, angular features. His Warriors, four of them, pursued the man down the alleyway. He couldn't help but smirk as he heard the strangled yelp of alarm, then the sound of impacts on flesh. Acteon took his time, resting his sword on one shoulder as he almost casually walked into the alley. Two of the Warriors had the bloodied cop by his arms, dragging him into a kneeling position as Acteon approached. The man looked up with wide fear-filled eyes, a trickle of blood cutting a red trail down the grime coating his face. Acteon grinned, spreading his arms. "Be glad! I'd love to watch your head roll, but instead, you get to deliver a message to the rest of the cowards, hiding in their precinct." He took his sword from his shoulder, resting the tip under the cop's chin and tilting his head up. "Your Heroes can't save you. Citadel, Luminary? They tried to stop us and they failed. We're on equal footing now, and the machines were found wanting! That's what's gonna happen to anybody else. Tell them to send their heroes, they're all on our level now. No tricks, no power-suits, no divine protection, nothing will help them. Just mettle against mettle. Strength against strength, as it should be." He looked up to regard his men. "Tell them to come, and fall to the true Warriors!" The cheered, waving their weapons in the air. The cop looked positively ill. "Of course...I think they need something besides words, don't you?" Acteon continued. He smirked, obviously enjoying this opportunity to monologue at a captive audience. "We Warriors learn from history. Ever hear of the Battle of Kleidion?" The officer looked at him blankly. Acteon continued. "Fifteen thousand men were captured, but simply beating them into the dirt wasn't enough. No, they had to send a message. So ninety-nine out of every hundred had their eyes put out." He smirked and held his sword in front of the cop's eyes. "The lucky ones got to keep one eye so they could guide a train of their blind comrades back home, so everybody would see that those who did this were not to be fucked with." He held the point of his blade up to his captive's right eye. The man blanched, suddenly realizing what was coming. "P-please!" He stammered. "You don't have to do this!" "Consider yourself lucky." Acteon hissed. "You get to keep one at least." "Neat story. You see that on the History Channel or something?" The Warrior chief frowned and lowered his blade as something dropped into the end of the alley. No, someone. He was expecting more heroes, especially after the poor showing of the two machines. And, he knew that thanks to the blessings of Odysseus they had to fight as equals, but...This one still gave him pause as she rose to her full height. She had at least a head over the tallest of his men, easily seven feet from scuffed boots to a head topped by a wild mane of ruddy brown hair. More hair, or perhaps fur grew like sideburns down the side of the woman's jaw, and patchily covered her exposed shoulders and muscular arms, which ended in hands tipped in vicious-looking claws. She regarded the warriors with eyes like beaten gold set in a face with a slightly flattened nose, fangs protruding from a mouth that was currently twisted in what was either a confident smirk, or a snarl. Pointed ears completed the effect, giving the supposed hero a distinctly lupine appearance. The Warriors raised their weapons. "Come to save the day, hero?" Acteon snarled...Which got a dry chuckle, oddly enough. The woman took a step foward, raising clawed hands. "More curious." Her voice was feminine but deep, with an honestly unnerving growling undertone. Though it almost sounded as if she was trying to downplay this. "Though I'd really rather the guy not lose an eye...And this is really sort of a transitional period for me, so why don't you put the LARP gear down and we can talk about this, yeah?" Acteon spat on the ground. The gall of this bitch! "I'm gonna enjoy taking your tongue. We fight as equals, now! You are nothing!" "Equals, huh?" It sounded like she caught the significance in those words, at least. "Look, why don't you just walk off, and I'll deliver your message in person. Nobody has to get hurt here." It would probably sound more sincere if it weren't delivered with all the calming tones of a hungry bear. "I have a better idea." He pointed his sword. "Take her head." ------------------------------------------------------ So much for non-violence. Liz was really trying too, no matter how much her instincts were howling for her to just drop the pretense and attack. Even as one stepped forward, she raised a hand. "Now let's not do something we're all gonna re-" She cut off with a snarl as the man swung his axe, the blade impacting with her outstretched arm with a solid wet thunk. It hurt, a lot, even if it only went in a few inches, despite the force of the blow. Stupid! She should have known that was coming! Dodged! Something! And now the bastard was laughing! Laughing! At her! The laugh quickly died as he drew back the axe and saw that the wound was rapidly closing before his eyes. If Liz was in a better mind, she might have thought their level of surprise odd; the Warriors taking a few steps back with wide eyes, as if what was happening was utterly inconceivable. "B-but...We..." Their leader stammered, apparently lost for words. A deep growl built in Liz's throat. That hurt. They had attacked her...How dare they! She had to exert her dominance, wipe away the insult that this prey had given her by daring to think they could challenge her! A small voice in her head begged for control as her instincts flared, begging her not to just throw away everything she had been working towards. To fight with restraint, and focus, and- The Warrior with the axe charged forward, bellowing a wordless battle-cry. Well screw that. ------------------------------------------------------ Arctos was a good fighter. Acteon knew for a fact that he had killed three men, veteran Warriors all, in the fighting pits. His speed and technique were already gaining widespread renown among the ranks of the gang. The beast-woman still took him apart. He barely even saw her move, one moment she was standing there growling, the next she had caught the incoming blow by grabbing Arctos's wrist. There was a sickening crack, and the Warrior's battlecry turned into a high-pitched scream as his weapon dropped to the pavement. It cut off a moment later in a gurgle as the claws of her other hand slashed, a spray of red joining the graffiti on the alley wall. Before Arctos had even started to collapse, she leapt at the rest. One Warrior was borne to the ground, and the other two piled in, swinging their weapons. It didn't do them any good. Acteon just stood there, stunned. How the hell was she that fast!? Her feral appearance had given him pause at first, but to see her move...This wasn't super-speed, he could wrap his head around that, this was something altogether more primal. Something that triggered the deepest recesses of his lizard brain. Nothing human-shaped should move like that: the perfect economy of motion, the lithe strength and speed. A singularity of purpose, like this thing was designed to completely take apart anything that couldn't take it down first. Large and feral gave pause. Large and feral, and attacking like a striking snake...That was something that froze him to the spot. But how!? They were equal! That was what had been promised! That was what he had seen! The Warriors would be the equal to any hero that dared to- Then it hit him: suddenly, and horribly. Hero. They were the equal to Heroes. The wording, apparently, had been very specific. And then she was looking at him, crouched with fangs bared, a deep rumbling basso growl seeming to emanate from her very core. She was splattered with red, thick on her hands, claws and -he was chilled to see- around her mouth. His men were dead, or as good as, and Acteon knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was next. He whimpered, lost control of his bladder, and turned to run. Barghast was on him before he took two steps. ------------------------------------------------------ The red haze cleared from Liz's vision and she realized the leader was the last one left. He was dangling, one of her hands clamped around his neck and lifting him off his feet, the other raised to strike. Finish it! End it! Kill him! With a growl, she shook her head, instead tossing him against the side of the alley, where he fell into a heap on a pile of trash bags. She snapped her head back at the cop who was looking around, eyes wide. "Run. Get out of here!" She snarled. He nodded once before taking off, without a second look back. She turned to the remaining Warrior, whimpering and scrambling to a seated position. She pointed a clawed finger at him and growled out one word. "Talk." And so he did...

Fifty-seven feet under Zigursky Penitentiary Nothing but static, but that was probably only to be expected. It didn't stop Morris from asking the obvious question, though. "Anything?" "No." Agent Marco Bohr replaced the handheld radio on his belt. "They're jamming us somehow." The younger Longbow guardian licked his lips, checking his pistol for what seemed like the hundredth time since they had come down here. "Son, we're under fifty feet of rock, steel, and concrete." Bohr sighed. "There's no signal down here." "How are we supposed to report back then?" Morris retorted. "Do they really think the two of us are gonna be anything more than a speedbump if they all decide to come down here?" Bohr had to admit his partner had a point. In fact he was surprised they hadn't run into anyone, be it Zigursky personnel, or inmates trying to effect an escape. Maybe they thought nobody knew about the old maintenance tunnels. They were supposed to have been sealed off twenty years ago, but from the functional lighting and relative lack of flooding, there was obviously still some upkeep going on. ...Which didn't extend to pest control, he thought petulantly as he stepped aside to avoid yet another scampering rat. He heard Morris curse behind him. "How much further?" "Just to the next junction, then we can head back." Bohr responded. To tell the truth, he was starting to get nervous as well. Knowing what was going on a few dozen feet over his head was making his mind wander in dark places. The lights flickered, dust falling from the ceiling as a slight tremor went through the floor grating, shivering pools of stagnant water. "A...Subway train, maybe?" Bohr looked back at his partner. "This close to the prison?" Another tremor, this one strong enough to send the two Longbow agents fumbling for their balance. "What the hell!?" Morris yelped. "It's an earthquake!" "No, that was an explosion!" Bohr corrected, starting to move past his partner back the way they came. "Come on, we should get-" The lighting failed. "Damnit!" Bohr cursed, fumbling for a flashlight, but it wasn't necessary. The bulbs flickered back to life a few seconds later. He breathed a sigh of relief...Short-lived, as he heard Morris hiss. "Bohr!" Bohr turned around to face his partner, a cold knot suddenly forming in his stomach when he realized they weren't alone in the corridor anymore. About thirty feet ahead, illuminated in the harsh sodium light of the bare bulbs, there was a woman. Shockingly pale and lightly built, with a shaven scalp, barefoot, and barely topping five-feet...She certainly didn't look like much of a threat. Or she wouldn't if not for her attire: the standard blaze-orange jumpsuit pants of a Zigursky inmate under a white canvas straitjacket, festooned with straps and buckles, the long sleeves hanging undone at her sides. "Don't move!" Bohr barked with authority, leveling his pistol. Morris did the same beside him. The woman flinched. "Why so loud?" "Hands up!" Morris shouted, simultaneous with Bohr yelling "On your knees!" She rolled her eyes, putting her hands up, the straps down the sleeves dangling. "Unfriendly..." "I said, on your kn-" Morris started, then choked off. "N-n-n..." He tried to stammer out. Bohr chanced a glance over. Morris's eyes were wide, his face ashen and covered in sweat. His muscles shook with tremors, his pistol rattling as he slowly lowered it. The woman. She was doing this! Bohr snapped back to the smirking inmate, sighting down his own pistol and began to squeeze the trigger. It wouldn't budge. Safety catch? He tried to flick it with his thumb, but found he couldn't do that either. It wasn't the pistol. He was paralyzed. "Unfriendly..." The woman repeated, moving forwards. Her lips weren't moving, but Bohr could still hear her. In his head! He realized with horror. Humming softly to herself, the woman moved in between the pair. Bohr couldn't even move his head or eyes to look at her. "You could shoot him. Or maybe he could shoot you." She giggled. Both agents suddenly swung their weapons up, aiming at one another. "Or...You could just forget about all this." A dreamlike fog entered Bohr's mind, and then he was free. He looked around, bewildered, wondering why his pistol was out. Morris was clutching his head, leanign against the far wall." "Morris...MORRIS! What happened?" "I don't know..." ----------------------------------------------- Psychlone continued down the corridor. The guards had known about the maintenance tunnels, so she had known. Burned into her mind along with everything else when the power dampeners went down. And only two Longbow agents! She could easily have killed the men, admittedly, or made them kill one another, but like Dr. Everhardt had kept telling her. Empathy. So they lived, free to continue their long happy Longbow lives, never to- Another tremor, massive this time. She was sent sprawling into the stagnant watter coating the floor. She lay there for almost a minute groaning as she tried to regain her bearings. The corridor behind her had collapsed. ...Well, so much for live and let live. She shrugged, and continued down the corridor towards the exit, whistling happily to herself.

UPDATE: Due to Time Travel shenanigans, this has been retconned. This is not going to be a typical occurrence, but SG plots gonna SG plot. Channel Nine News, On Your Side! The body of missing Podcaster and radio personality Allen Rush was discovered early this morning in King's Row. <A clip is shown of a balding, middle-aged man gesticulating wildly as he rants into a microphone.> The controversial pundit was infamous for his anti-mutant rhetoric, though PPD is declining to comment whether this was in any way related to his apparent abduction and death. Rush was abducted last week in the middle of his regularly scheduled live stream. <The picture changes to show a still image, obviously a freeze-frame from a video, of a masked woman, clad in a mask and chain-wrapped red leather in the same studio as the previous clip.> The identity of the assailant remains unknown, as do her motivations. We will have more on this story as it develops. Next up, are the PPD's drones really here for our protection? This mother of four thinks otherwise... ------------------------------------------------------------ Humanity Today Blog Posted 7/22/19, by Jared Welles "The motivations of the assailant remain unknown." Can you believe this crap? It's obvious to anybody with half a brain that this was about Rush telling the truth about the Muties, and the unregistered Metas. And you know what his last broadcast was? What finally made him a target? Elizabeth Gunnison. The Barghast. He spoke truth to power, and the power struck him down. He called out the villains in our midst, and they could have none of that. So they kidnapped him, and they killed him. And before you say I'm crazy, before you say this was just a random incident? Here's what the news and the police aren't telling you. Allen Rush wasn't just killed, he was ripped to shreds. Now what does that sound like? Whose MO does that remind you of? I have it on good authority that the PPD knows where Barghast is, but for whatever reason, they refuse to make a move. Why not? What are they afraid of? Hurt feelings? We shouldn't have to worry about what the Muties think of us. They want us scared! That's why Allen Rush was killed! If the authorities can't even find it in themselves to apprehend a literal murderer, then maybe, just maybe the people of this great city should step up. You all know what happens when you kick a hornet's nest.

RETURN OF A BEAST? By Pritchard Hale July, 12, 2019 A disturbing internet video has recently gone viral apparently depicting an attack by the Mutant supervillain known as Barghast. Barghast, real name Elizabeth Gunnisson, first emerged nine years ago. The manifestation of her powers at Faircloth High School in the South End of Paragon City led to multiple deaths, including multiple students, an instructor at the school, and a local police officer. (See Metro, P.7 'A Community Remembers') After fleeing the scene, Gunnisson evaded capture for two months, starting an escalating spree of violence that claimed twenty-three lives. Cornered in a Skyway City shopping mall, she was finally brought down through the valiant efforts of the Paragon City Police and local heroes. Despite being a minor, she was remanded to indefinite detention in a secure wing of Ziggursky Penitentiary. She is believed to have escaped from custody during the Praetorian Wars and to have fled to the Etoille Islands. The video, if confirmed, would be the first indication that she is once again active on the streets of Paragon City. Police are urging citizens who have any information about her whereabouts to contact them immediately, and warn that Gunnison is to be considered extremely dangerous. (See Commentary, Pg. 3 "It Is Time for Mutant Registrations to Be Made Public") [OOC: Consequences of an SG plotline blowing up! If you want to get involved for whatever reasons, contact me here, at @Barghast in-game, or at Sidhe Vicious#6580 on the Everlasting and City of Roleplay [HC] Discord servers.]