Enter: The Shattered Seven (Everlasting)

[Ferret]

[You find your radio and TV waves jumbled for a moment only to see a single picture on the screen.]

 

 

"Atlas Park. Paragon City. I am Epilogue. For those of you that remember my name, remain uneased.

For those of you that don't, you've only to learn and listen.

 

Head these words - we are the Shattered Seven, and we -are- this city.

 

This message is for the forgotten. For the beggars of King's Row. For the ashen covered of Faultline.

For all suffering under the heels of those above you - WE are your voice, and we will NOT be silent.

 

The towers that house those who think themselves better are brittle, and we are your wrecking ball. And

by their crumbling, we will build you a home where no one sits above!

 

For too long have their pockets been bursting at the seams. For too long have they taken your money and

piled it high, out of your reach. And what's it for? Perez? The Hollows? Baumton? The people there bleed

the same blood as you. And none of you have been given the tools to patch your own wounds. The jobs to

rebuild your homes - to make your piece of the city proud again; to help your friends and family that

are victims of Superadine.

 

We can help the inequality that plagues this city.

 

It's clear to us that we do not all enjoy the same rights. Heroes fly above, seemingly immune to the struggles

you face - accepted for the good they do, but not held accountable for the harm they cause. And while they get

their pass, mutants and Trolls are shunned and forced underground. Hated because no one attempts to understand

their suffering. How many of them could be helped if we heroes walked the streets instead of flying above them?

 

And for those of you that believe yourselves above reproach - beyond the words we speak - listen well:

We are warning you. Change now, and avoid our wrath later.

 

For those of you that choose to ignore our message - our warning;

the corrupt politicians, police, Longbow, hero or otherwise, take only one thing from this: we are coming for you.

 

To the rest of you on the ground with us  - the fallen and the sick, the trampled and the beaten, the poor and

lame - we ask that you rise with us and help take your city back!

 

We are the Shattered Seven... And we will not go quietly."

 

 

((If you want in on the plot involving the Shattered Seven and to stay tuned, join the discord! https://discord.gg/FSJ2Cfb ))

[chivalry]

A Shattered Seven Story: Enter Delver

 

Colm shifted his weight on the cheap plastic chair outside Lady Argiope’s office. The door leading in was closed but if he strained, he could just about see her silhouette in the frosted glass. It seemed to him that she was just sitting there waiting - drawing out the inevitable reprimand for inviting that woman into the base. He had taken his helmet off - something he did so rarely - twiddling it in his hands to occupy the empty space in which he found himself. The practicality of the waiting space spoke to Argiope’s tendency to protect herself and Colm couldn’t help but drift toward thinking what a woman with her experience and connections could possibly fret over.

 

‘She’s bloody loving this,’ he mumbled breathlessly before slouching down. The flimsy plastic groaned slightly on the tiled floor. There was simply no comfortable way to sit in it.

 

Waiting was something Colm had done his best to avoid since he took up the mantle of Delver. He had worked to gain some recognition throughout his time under the moniker and the protracted formality of this meeting emphasised why he had taken up the cause of wait-avoidance so religiously. It simply didn’t suit him. And sure, he knew that he didn’t quite follow The Conclave’s protocol but he reasoned with himself over the past several days that the benefit in this instance outweighed any possible dangers.

 

All in all, Colm had reached the conclusion that the entire situation had the unfortunate (and all too familiar) sensation of being a naughty school bairn called to see the headmaster.

 

‘Enter, Delver.’

 

Colm reckoned Argiope’s tone had shifted from icy to steely since they last spoke. Perhaps he should have been more flattering when talking about her to her lovely assistant. He had grown to much preferred Demise’s naivety during his brief stint as a tour guide to Lady Argiope’s painfully reserved calculations. He sighed, rose, fitted his helmet and entered the office.

 

‘Close the door.’

 

In one continuous movement Colm abruptly changed direction and obliged by closing the door behind him anyway. He knew that I probably shouldn’t rile her up too much more at the moment.

 

She shook her head before continuing.

 

‘What you’ve done was incredibly foolish. What exactly were you playing at by inviting someone who was entirely uninitiated in The Conclave into our base of operations?’ Her voice simmered.

 

Colm simply moved towards the rather plush looking chair on the other side of Argiope’s desk and sat himself into it.

 

‘It’s lovely to see ya too. What’s the craic? Might as well make myself comfortable before ya give me a bollocking,’ Colm laughed. He leaned back, placing both hands behind his head. ‘So what’ll it be? Cut my eyes out? Let the Doc do any number of his wee experiments on me? Make me chat to ya about why what I did was wrong for an hour or so?’

 

A wide grin spread across Colm’s face upon saying the last suggestion.

 

‘Surprisingly, Delver,’ Lady Argiope made sure to say his name with a certain scorn which Colm was starting to relish, ‘the Inner Council has decided that we will let your little slip up go this time as you happened to stumble upon quite an interesting specimen for us. We only have two rules, two. Yet you decided to break the most important of those two.’

 

She paused, clearly indicating that she wanted some affirment from Colm but the familiar tingling had started to run up his arms. It was kicking in just in time and a faint grin started to spread across his face. Argiope frowned before continuing.

 

‘While, normally, I would be all for the execution of someone who pulls a stunt like you did, the members of the council agree that the benefit of having Demise with us balanced out your serious mistake and disregard for the work we have been carrying out. In fact..’

 

Argiope’s ramblings continued but the sounds simply drifted away as Colm was now elsewhere. He, quite smartly he reckoned, had taken a rather high dosage of the refined Superadine he was supplied with while waiting outside the office. His mind started to drift and he felt the familiar warmth spread through his body. Sure, he needed it to maintain his powers but over time he had come to find enjoyment in the simple joyful abuse of the narcotic. It got him away when he wanted; he could simply drift away from the yammering of Lady Argiope and concerns of protocol and rules and regulations (he certainly never expected quite so many when he signed on with The Conclave!) and be somewhere else. While the first vision was horrifying, Colm had acclimated to the vast array of realities he felt he witnessed while on the drug. The space between worlds simply seemed to tear and swirl, blending together into a...

 

‘...do you understand what we expect from you moving forward?’

 

Pausing for a brief second as his senses adjusted to the sudden shift, Colm placed his hands on the arms of the chair and looked to Argiope.

 

‘Aye, sure love. We done here?’

 

Argiope’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward over her large oak desk, carefully, firmly, placing her hands on the top.

 

‘I have some serious concerns about you Delver. And I’ll let it be known that I would rather we handled this matter...differently.’

 

Colm simply cheerfully nodded and tapped his helmet, ‘I just loved our wee chat, dinnae worry - I’ve got it all up here.’

 

He hoped the cliche would annoy Argiope.

 

‘I’ll just see my way out, ta love, thanks for the wee pep talk.’

 

He didn’t close the door behind him and Argiope watched as he strolled from the office. A small vial lightly lolling on the ground caught her attention.

 

‘Delver,’ she stated. Her tone arrested Colm’s joviality and he froze in place.

 

‘Something has come to my attention and further consideration I think we do need to have a slight...intervention.’ A wicked smile crept across Argiope’s face as she said this.

 

Colm casually swung around.

 

‘Eh, what are ya playin’ at now?’

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

And so Colm found himself standing out in the pissing down rain with a bunch of workmen scrapping back fliers, collecting rubbish, and painting over a rash of recent graffiti from the walls of Fancy Firaval’s nightclub.

 

‘What a bloody punishment this is, eh mate?’ Colm motioned to a nearby workman who shook his head, not out of disrespect but rather a lack of understanding. He was certain Argiope would have loved the idea of putting him on a work detail with a crew who didn’t speak English. It was just a simple vial he had left - what could she really know? Colm cast the thought from his head and continued to run the roller across the walls absentmindedly.

 

As part of an effort to clear up the reputation of the club great expenses were being spent on improving its outward appearance. The inward reputation was of no major concern.The posters and flyers were fraying and the colour had run in sections after a lengthy exposure to the elements but the graffiti had only recently appeared - something Colm found intriguing. There had been no evidence of vandalism on the CCTV to his knowledge though he doubted Argiope or the others would have mentioned this small detail to him.

 

It looked light a splash of black paint at a first glance but as Colm looked it over he realised what it was: a red anarchy symbol with what looked like a black bird rising in the foreground and he shook his head.

 

‘Another wee youth movement I guess,’ Colm mumbled as he began to roll paint across the face of the building.

 

Things were never as straightforward for Colm as he would have liked however - getting stuck with this job was just another example of this. He would have loved to just breeze through the job, without a care or thought because that’s what this was, a menial task he didn’t want to think about. Once done he would have loved to hit up the Golden Giza, spend a bit of cash, have some drinks and do what he would call ‘winding down’. But this couldn’t happen now.

 

As his roller touched the paint Colm had what he would describe as a vision of sorts - not so unlike the Superadine induced hallucinations he had become so accustomed to - it was as though his psychic powers suddenly manifest uncontrollably. There was a mass of shadowy figures, blurring into one another, writhing and tearing at walls, and towers around them. One after another they piled up, growing and pulsing. And then it stopped. It was over. He was on his knees, crouched on the ground, splattered with paint and surrounded by the foreign workers who murmured indecipherable phrases of concern for him.

 

Colm had grown used to the hellishly unpredictable results of using Superadine to amplify his meager psychic powers. He had adjusted to the visions and hallucinations; even the addiction was second nature to him. And so this vision shouldn’t have been anything for him to fret over. Only there was a problem.

 

The Superadine he had taken most recently had worn off. He shouldn’t be having any sort of visions. He shouldn’t be hallucinating. It simply shouldn’t have happened. There was something more to this graffiti and Colm resolved at that very moment to get find some answers. If there was something that could amplify his psionic powers without the aid of Superadine he had to find it.

 

[Ferret]

(( Chivalry! Awesome post!! Can't wait to meet up in game! ))

[chivalry]

Part 2: Soon

 

‘Um...Hello?’ 

 

There was no response nor echo. His voice simply dissolved into the vastness around him.

 

‘Nae quite my idea of a loving welcome,’ Delver mumbled, brushing his costume and straining to see, ‘though with a bit of light and a few drinks and I’m sure this would be a lovely wee place.’

 

He turned slowly, his head tilted towards what he thought must be the sky and his hands braced out, feeling for a guide or signal as to where he was but neither came. He simply shuffled forward in the emptiness that surrounded him. 

 

‘Some bloody mess you’ve found yourself in now. What the hell even is this place?’ His voice was flat, dulled in the otherworldly emptiness. He would never admit it, but he needed a response but was regrettably left with only his own voice. ‘Better get movin’ I suppose.’ 

 

Colm had woken up in plenty of strange situations in the past but typically they involved a particularly heavy night of drinking, class a drugs, and increasingly bizarre bets (typically following the aforementioned activities) throughout the night. This had none of the familiar signs - the last he could remember he had been sitting in his flat, looking out the window overlooking the neon lights outlining the St. Martial skyline which swathed the buildings in a soft warm glow.

 

Delver moved forward slowly, deliberately, carefully feeling the ground as he pressed forward with his feet before taking each step as he assessed this unforeseen situation. There were several things he noted that were particularly strange, even for him. There was no sound from his footsteps; no matter what Colm did, he simply could not generate any sound. He tried stomping. Tapping. Scuffing the soles of his feet. He even briefly considered skipping as well (and except for the uneasy feeling that something might actually see his futile efforts he likely would have) but the end was the same. Nothing. It was during this brief period of experimentation that he stumbled upon another peculiar sensation. He (more concerningly - he would be willing to admit) realised he couldn’t use his powers. Or at the very least, he couldn’t sense anyone else around to even try using his powers on. Colm had long since grown used to the low rumble of others’ thoughts and the sudden calm was perhaps more alarming than anything else. It was the motivation he needed to escape.

 

He simply moved, one foot in front of the other with his arms cautiously outstretched like a twisted scarecrow, pressing forward, further and further, heading nowhere in particular. There had been many nights of practice for Colm, staggering through the dull streets of St. Martial after particularly heavy sessions so despite these otherworldly circumstances, he progressed with an unusual confidence.
 

With his confidence building as he moved, he quickened his pace and, seemingly in response to his drive ever forward, a light slowly blossomed in the distance. It tenderly unfurled, cradling everything in a pale glow. 

 

‘Progress at last,’ he uttered, breathing out, a comfort he realised he had unknowingly deprived himself. Slowly the space around him seemed to materialise and his eyes adjusted to the light - he was surrounded on all sides by seemingly summitless walls bursting through the darkness around him. They were like nothing he had ever seen - swirling kaleidoscopic structures spun and twisted - geometric anomalies he couldn’t comprehend. They reached skyward, fading into the distance far him.

 

He tilted his head backwards in a vain effort to understand this incomprehensible limitless space and swiftly tripped himself in a clumsy movement, toppling onto his back on the ground. He expected a thud but there was still nothing.

 

‘I’d rather the empty space I think…’ Colm mumbled to himself as he propped himself off the group and onto his hands to sit up. Despite dealing with a staggering range of bizarre experiences in such a short period of time, Colm now encountered yet a further abnormality which truly surprising him: as he propped himself up, standing centrally before him was a peculiar figure, their head tilted ever so slightly towards what Colm assumed would be the sky (Colm reckoned that there must be a sky somewhere in this pit). A black robe was draped around their body and on their head was fashioned a strange horned skull adorned with ribbons and jewels intertwined in unknowably chaotic patterns. 

 

‘Aye, that does it - I definitely preferred the absolute blackness from before,’ Colm muttered as he slowly rose to his feet and brushed himself off and straightened his cape, readying himself for whatever followed this encounter. 

 

Only the confrontation wasn’t to happen. When Colm looked up, he didn’t see the cacophony of patterns twisting around him; there was no robed celebrant. Instead, he was in his filthy little flat in St. Martial, splayed across the arms of his worn armchair like a crumpled rag - a vial of Superadine lay at his feet.

 

Ferret lounged about on the sofa, seemingly having helped herself to a drink and switched on the television.

 

‘Oh, you’re finally coming round? About time. Hope you don’t mind that I made myself comfortable - it was pretty boring waiting on you to wake up from that stuff.’ She absentmindedly flicked through the channels and didn’t look at Colm while talking.

 

‘Aye, its fine - my head's pounding,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘How’d ya get in here?’

 

She shrugged, ‘It’s what I do - plus your window was open. You probably shouldn’t leave it unlocked around here, never mind wide open. It’s not exactly the safest neighborhood. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’ve passed along what you told me about that group you’ve been working for and mentioned that you said you’ve got our mutual friend’s best interest in mind. Before they do anything though, they are going to need…’ she seemed to drift off, watching a news report on a disturbance in King’s Row before continuing,  ‘You know, some actual proof of what you were saying. No offense but you aren’t exactly the most trustworthy person I’ve worked with.’

 

Colm sat in silence for several minutes before trying to speak. It was as much to steady himself as to think of a response.

 

‘I’m sure I can get ya somethin’ that will do the trick.’

 

Ferret sat silent for a few minutes before uttering a question that she had been grappling with for some time.

 

‘What are you actually doing this for? Not like I’m going to pay you for it. What are you actually getting from helping us?’

 

‘‘You’re no daft, are ya?’ A wide grin spread across Delver’s face. ‘I’ve come to realise there is a wee bit more to this group than I knew when I got involved - they’re no the sort of folks to take kindly to change. Ya know, I hear a few word here and there. Gather a wee bit from that one’s thoughts and it starts to make a pretty little picture in my head and I’m no too keen on what I’m finding out. They like the current status quo - easier to work their magic a bit. But you, and me for that matter, we’re the sort that can see when changes need to happen. Personally, I’ve got more stakes in this race than I wanna admit.’

 

She smiled the sort of smile Delver thought might mean the deal was sealed. At least, he certainly hoped it was as he looked down at the remnants of Superadine at his feet. He caught Ferret looking at the empty vial as well.

 

‘You still using that stuff?’

 

‘Aye, had one hell of a nightmare this time. Felt like the world was spinning around me and I might just fall through it. A to top it off I saw some bloody weirdo wearing some skull standing in the centre. When ya start seein’ things like that it makes ya wanna cut back a wee bit.’ He was grinning but he wasn’t sure it covered the unease scuttling through his bones.

 

He was surprised - for the first time that evening - he could have sworn Ferret looked a little uneasy herself and he smiled. 

 

‘Don't say that my wee night terror scared ya - it’d make me second guess who I’m doing work for.’ He smiled as he said this, hoping to hide his own unease at what he saw.

 

She shook her head slightly, ‘It’s nothing. I’ll be in touch once you have some actual proof.’

 

Delver lay his head back, dangling off the edge of the chair’s arm. He felt the blood pulsing through his head. He was sure Ferret would make her own way out.She had found her own way inside without his help after all.

 

‘Guess I should figure out a plan.’ 

 

He breathed out before closing his eyes.