Reassembly II: Creatures of Light and Darkseid (M&M 3e)

[CandyLaser]

Once Kang started talking, Sarah quickly got the sense that this wasn't just a standard bad-guy-"join me and together we can rule" speech. She quickly stopped suppressing the shared awareness, especially when Kang started talking about the quote-Others-unquote.

Spoiler: Expertise rolls

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Let's find out if Sarah knows anything about these Others. I'm not sure what Expertise is appropriate, but in any case Sarah gets a +18 to the check from her Intellect and probably an additional +5 from Eidetic Memory. (1d20+23)[27]

~Sorry about the interruption in service. Kang's got me elsewhere on the ship. Just talking, so far - I'm going to keep trying to convince him to stand down.~

She listened to Kang's proposal calmly, letting him finish before she replied. "I'm glad to hear that you're a reasonable man, Kang. But your offer is unacceptable to me. I will not hand over control of any sentient being, to you or anyone else. But if she can be persuaded via rational means to work with us, and with you, then that would be fine. On that note, do you know why Sylvester switched sides and abandoned you? It wasn't because of blood ties, or anything like that. He ran the numbers, just like I did, and saw that your plan was no longer the only way, or even the best way, to deal with Darkseid.

Allow me to make you a counter-offer. Shut down the Doomlock and stop your remaining allies from fighting. What do you get out of this? In return you'll see what I have in mind for Darkseid. I'll bring you in. And I'm sure you're smart enough to find your own advantages from our partnership.

[herodofcows]

The zombified Enchantress can only gawk as the Misfits zoom away from her, following Amazo's trail of destruction and death through the impossible twists and turns of Kang's ship. The interior is a blur of confusing twists and turns: armories and ancient megalithic structures and windows into other universes and luxuriously-appointed chambers, all coalescing into a single omnitych of hyper-futuristic despotic splendor, until . . .

"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

"Ah, wonderful! You made it!"

The room is just as the Talisman's vision had shown you: bare, futuristic, and centering around the Doomlock. Sylvester crouches in front of a floating shimmering metallic sphere, sweating feverishly as he stares into the depths of the thing. The space around him is mostly distorted by a shimmering VPN field, although elements of clear space are visible where the field has been distorted by super-strong blows.

". . . I'm going to let it reset and try again. Unless any of you have any bright ideas?" Sylvester yells, red in the face and clearly frustrated, "I don't have a single shocking idea!"

Meanwhile, the Talisman is zipping around at proto-Flash speeds, evading and incanting in the face of her foe.

"This one is nearly as annoying as the one with the mustache!" she calls out, "NEARLY!"

"Her foe", a.k.a. the Red Hulk.

He's wearing a glowing red power ring, from which serpentine tendrils of red light coil around his body and pump power. His skin is blood-red and sizzles with everlasting heat. He turns toward you, and you see his eyes are a blazing orange.

"BLLLAAAAARRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Sizzling red blood erupts from his mouth, covering the newly-arrived Misfits with the scorching fluid. Ronin takes the worst of it, but nearly all are the worse for it . . .

. . . and then more time-displaced troops appear in the room.

The first is a snarling beast of a man, covered in the remnants of cybernetic monitoring devices and rapidly-healing scars. His face is obscured by a red-tinted visor that remains in place, but the shining adamantium claws are clear giveaways: the Wolverine is in play, out of his mind with pain after the operation that made him nearly unstoppable.

The second is a figure in a green robe that is significantly worse for the wear, scorched and riddled with what appear to be bullet holes. She is armored below, wearing what appears to be Metropolis PD riot gear. She is a striking older woman with jet black hair and piercing gray eyes, and her hands are coated with red and green fire.

~AbsoLUTELY no-~

"You still host my younger self, do you not?" this new Madalina hisses with a voice like crackling flame, "Then I suppose this will have to be a murder AND a suicide . . ."

The third figure is a familiar one. Familiar enough to give even the Talisman pause.

"Rel'kor . . ."

Spoiler: Sarah (visible to all that she chooses to show)

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Kang frowns and folds his arms, considering the math as you recall what you know about Others.

"Ah . . ." he finally sighs, disgusted, "He figured out the loophole . . . damnations. I should have expected. You Saturns are always too damnably clever for your own good."

He goes quiet for a moment, considering, and then brightens up.

"I believe I can agree to your terms, with one caveat: the Talisman will never trust me, and any visible compromise with me will erode her trust in you. We cannot risk that. Your trustworthiness is established in opposition to my own perceived evil intent, so . . . we'll have to play this out."

Grinning with a hint of smugness, he presses a few buttons on his suit. Abruptly, you feel your mind working a good deal faster than it had been a few moments ago. You realize that Kang had somehow limited your cognitive functions as soon as you'd entered the room . . .

"Return to your friends, defeat my minions, and deactivate the Doomlock. Tell them you bested me. I have no doubt you can handle the rest. I'll ensure that the ships vanish and that the planes reach Malta. History will proceed effectively unchanged until you deactivate the Doomlock and restore the multiverse. And then, forged in the fires of the multiverse . . . the Talisman will trust you, more than ever. The aliens will ally themselves with you against Darkseid willingly and completely. All will be well."

He shoots you a final grin as he blinks away.

"I SO love a happy ending . . ."

And then you are alone in this 4+ Dimensional space . . .

[CandyLaser]

Through Katie's magic, almost everyone saw what she saw, including Kang's not-at-all-menacing final remarks. ~Well, that went about as well as I expected. Also, remind me to improve my neural bulwarks. I think the bastard was messing with my mind, and I find that decidedly unpleasant. I'll look for a Thawne Tether, if I can find one.~ As was her custom, Sarah called for backup from the people she could trust most: herself. A pair of duplicates joined her in Kang's 4D room, and together they all started searching for the tether.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Over the course of two rounds, I'll summon duplicates, then have the duplicates make Perception checks. One will have +10 to Perception from Polymath; the other, +8 and Teamwork.

Here's the team roll: (1d20+13)[23]
And here's the main roll, not including any teamwork bonuses: (1d20+10)[23]

With the teamwork bonus, that becomes a 28, I believe.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Thanks," Katie said with a little grin as Fred whisked her along - her Flying Hand was great for outdoors travel, but it only had so much maneuverability, so high-speed travel indoors was problematic. It turned to a grimace, though, as the Rulk spat acid onto them (though her wards held) and more time-displaced villains appeared. Even with Fred's power boost, an infinite army would overwhelm them. They needed to destroy the Doomlock and the Thawne Tether ASAP. Sarah was handling the latter, so her best move was to keep everyone safe for long enough to attend to the former.

"Nope, sorry, don't care, you're not real," she responded dismissively to Evil!Madalina, pretty much done with Kang's whole "throw people they shouldn't want to fight at them" routine. She summoned up another persistent barrier to shield herself and her allies, while laying a quick boost on Fred as her prior one faded. It would allow him to generate more telekinetic power behind his blows given some time to focus it - not ideal for a straight fight since the enemy would easily dodge the highly-telegraphed strike, but darn solid for hammering on an immobile object.

~It's definitely referring to some sort of slandered emperor or king. Napoleon Bonaparte, Richard III, or Æthelred the Unready are probably the closest fits, but I like Richard for it. He had scoliosis, that fits the whole 'my body is trash' and 'mountain on my back' bits, and he was pretty well-known for his guile, which fits the platinum tongue.~

Spoiler

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Move: 10-point Augmentation on Fred.

1 point to create an Alternate Power of Power Slash.
15 points for Enhanced Damage 5 on alternate Power Slash.
-2 points for Inaccurate 2 on alternate Power Slash (really he takes -5 to hit with this attack thanks to PL limits, but Inaccurate goes in increments of 2 so here we are).
-4 points to remove Affects Insubstantial 2, Incurable, and Subtle from alternate Power slash.

Standard: Barrier on the party, defending all allies in the cloud.
Fred/Talisman: 1d20+12, min 22.
Sylvester: 1d20+12, min 22, -1 per point his Toughness is above 10.
Sylvester's VMP: 1d20+12, min 22, -1 per point its Toughness is above 10. Note that it is no longer Defenseless and thus not subject to auto-crits.
Zach: 1d20+10, min 20.
Katie: 1d20+8, min 18.

End of Turn: Recovers that Toughness point.

Shared Awareness is ON.

Current Status: Fatigued, Defended (1d20+8, min 18).

Current Augments

Katie (20 Points) [2 Rounds]:

12 points to raise Barrier to rank 10.
0 points to change Burst Area to Cloud Area.
-10 points to add Limited (Results of 10 or less treated as 10 rather than getting +10).
18 points to duplicate Shared Awareness outside of its normal array slot.

Thunderstruck (20 Points) [4 Rounds]:

10 points to remove Unreliable from Nothin' But a Hound Dog.
1 point to add another rank of Homing to Nothin' But a Hound Dog.
4 points for Enhanced Flight 2.
5 points for Enhanced Senses 5 (adding Tracking, Accurate, Direction Sense, Distance Sense).

Fred (10 Points) [5 Rounds]:

1 point to create an Alternate Power of Power Slash.
15 points for Enhanced Damage 5 on alternate Power Slash.
-2 points for Inaccurate 2 on alternate Power Slash.
-4 points to remove Affects Insubstantial 2, Incurable, and Subtle from alternate Power slash.

[herodofcows]

Evil-Madalina looks half wrong-footed as Potence flippantly dismisses her, opening her mouth and struggling to press out a response. Inside her head, Good-Madalina bursts out laughing.

~THAT silenced her! Ahh, for a body, that I might properly duel her and show that only I deserve the . . . name . . . Oh my Lord SOMEONE TAKE HER OUT THAT I MIGHT TAKE HER BODY!~

Elsewhere, Sarah and . . . well, the other Sarahs cast around the space that Kang has recently vacated. Combing the room would be a mind-bending exercise for anyone unaccustomed to non-Euclidean surfaces or the architecture of multidimensional temporal tethers. As it happens, the search takes but a few moments before the semi-phased mechanism of the Thawne Tether is discovered half-embedded into a spiral staircase leading sideways to nowhere.

Within the VPN field, Sylvester works feverishly for a moment and then laughs aloud. The sphere is still emitting distorted shimmering light, but the light is of a different color.

"Perfect! This next bit is pure programming. Just give me one moment and . . . Ha!"

Once again, the light flickers to a new color. This time, however, Sylvester's joy is short-lived.

"Haaaaaagh, f*** me in the Asimov . . ."

From within the VPN, you see Sylvester pause in his reprogramming and begin to back slowly away.

"The final challenge is an A.I. that we need to convince to shut down. It's . . . well, just have a look."

Through Shared Awareness, everyone can see the shimmering lights through Sylvester's perspective . . .

Spoiler: What Sylvester Sees

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Oh, Master-chan! Why do you want to shut down poor Hilde-kuun before the Allied scum are ground beneath the boot of the Third Reich? Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh?

[Quellian-dyrae]

~I don't...why even would...okay, moving on. Dr. Saturn, would it be possible for you to connect and/or direct the AI to review whatever security feeds there may or may not have been in the room Sarah's at? Or otherwise provide it with a visual of that exchange? Then she'd see what Kang said to Sarah about making it look good for Ta'li which should be sufficient justification for the shutdown, I think?~ she sent to the scientist alone (Katie rated Kang's plan as more "I have obviously lost here, but if I act like I'm being helpful maybe they'll let me go and/or steal some credit" than anything, but Ta'li was still firmly in the "treat with caution" stage of their relationship, so Katie had no qualms about need-to-knowing her a bit for the sake of stress reduction if nothing else).

[SuperCracker]

Ronin

The red blood was spewed onto Ronin as he tried to shield Katie. The searing crimson burned into his uniform and through his skin, searing away the first layer of skin into something angry and red. But just as soon as the damage occurred, it started to heal again. His body was knitting itself up just as fast as Logan’s did.

More enemies appeared to menace the Misfits (alliteration, baby). Post-apocalyptic Madalina, his enemy Rel’Kor, and… freshly minted Weapon X Wolverine. Ronin’s grin faltered for a moment. Logan didn’t like talking about those times in his life, but on occasion he did. The sheer trauma his body had suffered was sure to have sent him into a rage. Ronin still wasn’t certain if any of these beings were truly real… if they were sucked from another timeline or dimension. He wasn’t going to kill Logan… if he even could kill Logan in the first place.

At that time, Katie’s kaioken started to wear down, flickering unsteadily like a broken light. Katie tapped him with her wand again, and his aura’s aura shot back up. Ronin could feel his telekinetic abilities growing, swirling around Starsoul. The chaotic energy might be hard to control… but Fred thought he could hit like a truck with it.

Ronin’s smile returned to his face. ~Yeah… fighting these guys won’t win the day, but I can try to keep them off of you. Sylvester, bring up another wall. Lock them in with me.~

“One body, coming right up,” he said aloud to Katie and Madalina. Ronin charged and took a slash at the witch’s copy without the telekinetic power, looking to disable her quickly so that could (possibly) get Madalina into the game.

Spoiler

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Staggered. Regen bruised 1. Charging Evil!Madalina. Attacking with Quick Slash.

Screwed up my codes. Will roll in ooc.

After his attack, Ronin stopped dead in his tracks as he glimpsed Hilde-chan. “Nani?!”

[herodofcows]

~Not a bad idea there, Potence. I'll mainline it directly to the A.I. so that the Talisman doesn't get suspicious. Shouldn't take but a mo-DAMNATIONS~

Spoiler: What Sylvester Sees

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What a pervert is Master-chan! Spying on Kang-senpai when Sarah-sama is clearly forcing him to bow to the inferior races of the world! Hilde-kuun cannot BELIEVE such perversion, ehhhhhhhhhhhh!

[Thokk_Smash]

As the tidal wave of red-colored, pulsating puke washes over them, a thin chatter arises on the Shared Awareness. It sounds like Zach, but in a tone they've never heard from him before: very high-pitched as he mutters something over and over. ~"It's not blood, it's not blood, it's not blood. Don't worry, it's not blood, it's just blood-puke. Just your run-of-the-mill, pulsatingly-red, scalding hot puke coming out of a Hulk's mouth. Totally better than blood."~ Weird.

As yet two more time-stranded superpowered peoples come along, he forces down a shout of frustration. ~"This is horsesh*t!"~ he yells in their shared mental space. ~"Kang can't get any more desperate than this!"~

Oh. Oh, hohoho. Oh, how wrong Zach was to say that.

~"........."~

~"I am going to assume this is all just a fever dream from the blood-puke. Yes, I think that's a good course of action."~

Okay, so the...AI doesn't seem to be all that bright. He could try to...sweet-talk it (the mere thought sends him to shudders). OR...he could work a bit smarter, not harder.

The lightning that represents his power swirls around him now. To say his power is merely "to create lightning" would be underselling it tremendously. With his new, intuitive understanding of his own power, he knows that his power shows itself through lightning naturally both because that is what it was before, and because, well, it's his namesake. But this power is limited only by his own imagination.

The lightning melts into his body...and his body begins to morph. His clothes change into a Nazi officer's dress uniform; his hair turns black and slicked, covered by a hat; and his upper lip grows...a pencil-mostache. In an instant, the spitting image of Adolf Hitler is standing in the room, imperious as ever.

"Achtung!" he cries, and even his voice is identical to Hitler's. "Hilde-kun, vat is the meaning of this? Zis device ist ruining my plans! I insist that you shut it down, at once."

~"I'm going to need so much brain bleach after this,"~ Zach comments to the others.

Spoiler

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Free action: Power Stunt off of Blaze of Glory: Highway to Hell: Morph 2 (Humanoid forms), Flight 3, Second Chance (Persuasion to Persuade someone, Deception to Disguise, Regeneration 5)

Disguise check: (1d20+32)[42], (1d20+32)[48]

Persuasion check: Routined for 35, and rolled if that's not enough thanks to Second Chance: (1d20+25)[26] Welp, never mind that

Status: Bruised 2 (1 incurable), Fatigued, Exhausted next round, mildly nauseous
HP: 1

[CandyLaser]

~I just want you all to know that I deemed this scenario vanishingly unlikely when I was predicting how the encounter with Kang would go. Also, I've found the Thawne Tether; deactivating it now - after we check for traps.~ Kang having an anime Nazi AI was unexpected and out of character for the future would-be dictator. So unexpected, in fact, that it made Sarah suspicious. Her team of duplicates carefully examined the device, looking for anything out of the ordinary (for appropriate values of ordinary) (that is, ordinary for trans-temporal timeline manipulating devices hidden in non-Euclidean four-dimensional staircases) (by arrogant geniuses from the 30th century). As long as they found nothing, the next move was to shut the thing down.

Spoiler: Actions

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DC 35 routine Technology check as mentioned in OOC

[herodofcows]

"GRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The Red Hulk leaps into the air, his entire body flashing with red light as he brings his fists upward for a terrible smash onto Thunderstruck . . .

"HRRRRAAAA!" howls the Wolverine in unison, leaping at Ronin with frothing rage . . .

"Talisman . . . you stand by them?" murmurs Rel'Kor mournfully, a look of profound regret upon his face. He stands in a crimson Flash costume (rather than the yellow Reverse-Flash costume you saw him in last time) and has a patchwork of scars across the right side of his face. His hands are balled into fists at his side, bloody but not bleeding.

"Kang said they were the ones that killed me . . ." he rejoins, flying towards her with his fists rising.

The Talisman frowns at this, but does not appear shocked (despite Katie not explicitly telling her the same).

"They said you died in Darkseid's thrall, Champion," she rejoins, readying herself for his blow. "If they had not killed you, I would have."

"I am MORE THAN REAL!" Evil!Madalina finally howls, her wards sparking as they turn aside Ronin's mighty blow, "Kang promised me I could destroy the evils that you visit upon us in one fell swoop, and so I-!"

VVVVVVWORP

As Sarah deactivates the Thawne Tether, a mess of portals open up.

The Red Hulk descends howling into a scorched red landscape with a lake that looks alarmingly like it's made of blood and what appears to be an enormous stone statue of an angry cat . . .

Rel'Kor flies backwards into the interior of a well-furnished house. A woman sitting at the kitchen table with an open laptop turns, the words "Barry?" on her lips before a look of shock overtakes her face . . .

The Wolverine tumbles into a snowy landscape, which looks only vaguely familiar until you realize it's the exterior of the same Weapon X facility where you first found Superman . . .

Madalina momentarily tries to wrench herself away before the portal sends her spinning onto the roof of what appears to be Castle Doom . . .

And then, in the ensuing silence, Thunderstruck twists himself into a new form and addresses the A.I. with a silver tongue. His eyes, how they flash! His accent, how Teutonic! His silly mustache, how ridiculously bristly it is! His every move and gesture radiates genocidal fascist mediocre-painting maniac, to the point of nigh-ridiculousness!

And the A.I. responds. OH, how the A.I. responds.

Spoiler: The A.I. responds

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GASP!!!

UWAAAAAA! HITLER-SENPAI HAS NOTICED HILDE-KUUN! HILDE-KUUN IS SO HAPPY!

Yes, Hitler-senpai! Hilde-kuun will gladly deactivate herself for the sake of the Eternal Reich and the continued prosperity of the Master Race! Hitler-senpai is so wise and caring!

Hilde-kuun would do anything for her Hitler-senpai-pai-pai-paiiiiiiii . . .

Within the belly of Kang's ship, you can hear the quake and hum of machinery powering down and up in a bizarre choir. Engines power up. Chrono-links power down. Non-Euclidean rooms become abruptly Euclidean and vice-versa.

Over the intercom, Kang's voice booms out, a snarling and mustache-twirling Snidely-Whiplash-dyed-to-the-wool villainous roar:

"You may have bested me, Misfits, BUT I'LL BE BACK FOR YOU! YOU HAVE NOT HEARD THE LAST OF KANG THE CONQUERER! I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!"

Vworp

The ship vanishes, leaving you all about a hundred feet over empty seas. There is no sign of the Nazi fleet, but the aircraft still buzz towards Malta off in the distance. Everything is very nearly as it should be.

You have won.

"Well . . ." Sylvester begins, standing in his stationary VPN bubble.

". . . now what?" finishes the Talisman, floating serenely.

[SuperCracker]

Ronin

Alt!Rel’Kor told Talisman the truth… though not specific about it. Ronin would clear the air later. At the moment, though, he had to try and contend with the literally endless enemies appearing.

VVVVVVVVWORP.

Well, that was done… aside from the most cringeworthy cosplay on Zach’s part and a cartoonishly villainous speech from Kang (as if Fred would go along with anything that man had suggested).

VWORP.

And that was that. The extended team was floating above the empty ocean. Ronin bottled up his power again, his aura flowing away as his hair and eyes returned to their normal colors. His suit remained white and gold.. the Phoenix had done a good job of reprogramming it on the fly. Fred sheathed Starsoul and looked at the others.

“Good job. Zach… you took one for the team.”

Talisman’s question floated in the air. He glanced over to her. “Now we stop the Axis Powers, liberate concentration camps, and do what we can to prevent atomic weapons from being used.” You know. Easy stuff. "I suggest we start with the planes heading towards Malta, since we're here."

[Thokk_Smash]

Zach stoically takes the catgirl-AI's...response. He majestically nods as the Doomlock is disabled, and scowls appropriately as Kang makes his imperious declaration. Even until he rescinds his disguise, he keeps his cool.

"Haaaaaaaa...."

He sags in midair, almost appearing to kneel whilst hovering. Through the Shared Awareness, they feel a deep sense of nausea and regret. For a moment, he merely curls up in the fetal position in midair. So deep is his pain that he rocks himself a bit.

"I'm sending you the bill for my therapy sessions, Saturn," he mutters loudly. "And the alcohol I'll need to fully repress what just happened. The things I do for the fabric of the multiverse..."

When the elder Saturn and Tali make their joint question, he inexplicably bounces back to his feet. "We f*ck sh*t up, of course!" he yells with jubilation. "Kick some Nazi a**, punch the real Hitler in the face before he can blow his own brains out, take out my anger on people who deserve it, the whole thing! Starting with Malta!"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"~Yay go team!~" Katie cheered both aloud and through Shared Awareness. She politely refrained from reacting to Zach's strategy at all. She understood that it did not require further attention to be drawn to it. It happened - the best thing she could do for him, she understood, was to accept it and move on.

"Yeah, actually, once we've broken this attack, there's one more in particular that I want to make sure goes a certain way," she said, looking at Ta'li directly. "If you don't mind, I could use your help with that. Based on the history, it's probably going to be a bit more than I can deal with on my own." She made the request as simple and straightforward as if it were just another tactical consideration.

But of course, that wasn't all it was. Katie hadn't forgotten what the Talisman had done to Jay Garrick, among others. And she was acutely aware of the fact that Ta'li had, herself, recently had to walk a mile in the same sort of shoes as she had forced upon the former Flash's feet. Katie did not feel obligated to exact vengeance for what the Talisman had done. She did not believe in punishment for the sake of punishment, did not believe that justice required reciprocal harm. She had said she forgave the Talisman, because she did not feel any personal desire to punish her for her actions.

But there was forgiveness, and then there was absolution. Katie could not offer the latter. No one could. The only way to get absolution for wrongs you had done was to earn it the hard way.

Katie had very little doubt that encountering the past Jay Garrick would be unpleasant for Ta'li. Indeed, she hoped it would be. If the Talisman could face the man she had ensorcelled and enthralled, could see him at his most heroic, fighting off an overwhelming enemy, and it wasn't hard for her, and she didn't feel guilt...well, then Katie would know that she could not be trusted.

And maybe, just maybe, by helping to save the Jay Garrick of this new universe, the Talisman could at least make a start - the very first of many, many required steps - towards absolution for what she had done.

[herodofcows]

The Doomlocks are inactive. Kang has retreated in a suitably villainous manner. Once again, the multiverse is safe and sound.

This particular universe, however, could stand a little help.

If only there were a group of heroes with the knowledge and capability to spread out and OH WAIT.

Potence, Thirty Seconds Later

The Misfits hit Malta like a punch to the face, albeit with considerably more chance of bruising and bodily harm. The transports have spread out over the island as the Messerschmitts begin their losing engagement with RAF Squadron 126 and Hawkman's mace.

It's rapidly apparent that the Messerschmitts don't have a chance in hell, but their sacrifice is allowing dozens of dark shapes to leap from the Junker Ju transports and glide eerily down to Malta. It's fairly easy to trace their descent by the light of the rapidly-setting sun, and it becomes rapidly apparent that there's been some kind of miscommunication: rather than focusing on the heights of Marsaxlokk Bay (as with Operation Herkules) or Valletta and Victoria (as per Operation Huscarl), the black cloaked and hooded vampire troops seem to be landing willy-nilly all over the island.

On the plus side, this means that they are unable to mount a concentrated attack in any one area. On the minus side, well . . . they're everywhere. It's not a great visual.

~This is my legacy, then . . .~

Madalina's thoughts well up inside you as you survey their landfall. She is not questioning, or outraged, or disbelieving. She is simply despairing.

~My sacrifice, my spellcraft, given over to these perversions and used for the sake of evil. My damnation for another weapon in Lucifer's hands . . . and for what? To damn my king and the fools that dare his curse? What good is this? What point is there to any of this? So much power to make things right, and all of it gone so wrong . . .~

Luckily, it's at this point that the Misfits make landfall, and BOY does that not go well for the vampires. There's a brief chorus of snarls and pale fanged faces turning eagerly towards the newcomers before blasts of concentrated sunlight, flame, and lightning have turned the advance guard to dust.

Everyone quickly goes their own way, but you remain in the sky and dodge falling planes to lead the Talisman towards something that had caught your eye near the west side of the island: a sizzling crimson blur that seems to be darting from outcrop to outcrop, leaving dusty explosions in its wake.

"Where are we going?" the Talisman finally asks, blasting at a half dozen charging vampires as you land in a relatively empty space, "What is that over-"

ZOOM

"AIEEEE!"

"Heya, mesdamoiselles!" calls out a familiar yet uncharacteristically jaunty voice (in your experience) whose strong Midwestern accent manages to casually butcher the delicacy of the French word employed.

Kicking up sand and spinning gracefully to a halt, Jay Garrick regards you both with a smile that could sell dish detergent. He's dressed as the newsreels show him: a WWI-era doughboy uniform with wings added to the helmet and a crimson-and-yellow lightning motif on the jacket. Around you, a dozen vampires finish combusting.

The Talisman looks puzzled for a moment . . . and then her face goes slack.

"He . . . he's the-"

"The Crimson Comet! The Scarlet Speedster!" supplies Jay, zooming over and kissing her hand, "But you, doll . . . you can call me Jay."

Sarah, Ten Minutes Later

You're floating stationary above the island, peering through motion sensors and firing bursts of concentrated sunlight at the sneaking forms of escaping Nazi vampires (who have spent the last five minutes in the grips of the realization that the Third Reich is far from inevitable).

The rest of your teammates are engaged in their own pursuits. Potence and the Talisman are somewhere down there sorting something out with the man who becomes the Winter Soldier in your universe. Thunderstruck flew north shortly after the bulk of the fighting was over, and Ronin had taken off east soon after. For right now, it's just you and your grandfather attending to cleanup while the rest of the island's forces refortify themselves, celebrate the victory, and count the dead.

"It strikes me that we don't have much longer to talk," Sylvester's voice cuts in over the comms, "We're going to need to return to our respective timelines again relatively soon."

Timelines. A tacit acknowledgment that you are both, in all probability, just doppelgängers for important people in each other's lives.

"What are your plans for your return? You'll have to deal with Darkseid. An actually dangerous Darkseid, no less. And then there's the matter of the Flashpoint remaining unchanged, despite everything . . . what are your thoughts?"

Thunderstruck, An Hour Later

As soon as Malta's defense was secure, you'd taken off north in search of opportunities to kick the figurative (and, possibly, literal) s*** out of some more fascists. You'd headed north on a whim, knowing that Germany and Italy were both in that general direction and that a two-for-one deal on Axis targets is just too good to pass up.

You hadn't made it a mile out before the lightning began to sizzle over you again.

This time, there had been no precise words to the message. No coherent lines or verses or images give you explicit guidance in this. It's no bolt of lightning from the blue, or sudden strident roar.

There is only this quiet coursing assurance within you, as natural as the flow of blood through your body: There are walls that must come down.

Your course is the easiest thing in the world. You follow the urge towards your destination, like a migrating bird that knows it must go south for the winter. You pass over fortified towns, blasted fields, spotlights and anti-aircraft guns, over Italy and Austria, past Germany . . . and into Poland.

And there, floating high above the surrounding woods, well away from the smoke rising from the charnel houses and the grim shadows of the stone buildings, above the barbed wire and towers and waiting searchlights . . .

There, I say, is Auschwitz.

There are walls that must come down.

Ronin, Two Hours Later

Even with the Phoenix powering you, it had been a long flight over. Miles upon miles of faceless countryside, desert, sea, cities fitfully lit or burning, free and occupied alike . . . all the while, racing the darkness as it transitioned into dawn.

But now, at last, you have arrived.

You land with relative discretion within the more mountainous parts of the Ishikawa prefecture, along the west coast of the island. The landing is one of necessity: going overland as a big flaming bird would certainly draw attention, but Japan is still fully mobilized for their invasion into China and they HAVE had encounters with both Hawkman and the original Human Torch already. Better to approach quietly from here and gain an audience without having to cut down an excessive number of soldiers.

As your feet touch the ground, you cast your eyes around the landscape. The mountains and dells stretch out before you, harsh cold peaks contrasting with the thick forests and meandering roadways below. The thin air might burn in your lungs were it not for the Phoenix. You prepare to make your way by more conventional means, when . . .

Come and see . . .

The voice rumbles through the mountain like a sudden explosion. You hear it rumble through your bones, settling within you as it scratches an itch you didn't even know you had. Involuntarily, your eyes are drawn upwards along the nearest mountain . . .

There is a low stone structure jutting inconspicuously from the mountain. Smoke rises from a chimney, and fire glows from within. A forge, perhaps.

You have travelled long, student of Ogun . . . Come and see what I am making . . .

[CandyLaser]

Sarah didn't turn to look at her grandfather. To all appearances, her attention was focused on the Nazi vampire clean-up, precisely targeting the fleeing creatures of the night and burning them down with beams of solar energy. A few moments after Sylvester finished speaking, two of her duplicates appeared and took over the task. Their blazing bolts took up the slack, letting her finally turn to face her relative (well, all right - near-relative).

"I know you can't stay, but I wouldn't mind if you made a quick visit to my timeline. I could use a second set of eyes that I can trust on my current project. If you can't do that, perhaps we could do a knowledge transfer? I'd appreciate any information you have about what's to come. There's still so much I don't know."

"Given that I don't know what's coming, I plan to rely on defense in depth. I'm calling it Project Tomorrow, as in, 'let's make sure there is one.' For Darkseid, plan A actually borrows some ideas from Kang - I'm going to go recruiting. Allies from other times, other dimensions. I'm sure I can find some friends. Plan B, is something you taught me. History is a weapon. I know where and when certain cataclysmic events will happen. Tunguska, 1908, for instance, or Pompei in 79. I think taking Darkseid on a little tour might soften him up. There's more, of course. I've been stockpiling surprises for quite a while. But that's the start."

Behind her, one of her duplicates gave a short whistle. Sarah turned back, interrupting the conversation, and spent a few seconds calculating the likely future paths of the charging vampires. She related that information to her duplicates then returned to the talk.

"As far as Flashpoint goes, I need to know more. Is there anything you haven't told me about it?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

~No,~ Katie sent back gently.

~You saw, back on Kang's ship, the other Madalina. A Madalina from another timeline, another reality entirely, who came against us with fire in her hands. The Doomlock was on when you entered my body. That event happened to every Katie Alden and every Madalina of Latveria that ever existed in any universe. They all met as we did, spoke as we did, got the chance to know each other exactly as we did. And somehow, for some reason, despite having had that experience, that Madalina was willing to kill us both. Her descendent and her past self. I don't know why. I don't know what experiences she's had that would make her so casually willing to do something that seems so out of character. All I know for sure is this:~

~THAT. WAS. NOT. YOU!~

~There's an infinite number of possible universes and timelines, an infinite number of versions of ourselves faced with an infinite number of possible choices and experiences. It seems so weird, because we look at them and they're us, and we've had certain shared experiences, and thought patterns, and personality traits. But they're still different people, making different choices in entirely different worlds. We can't take responsibility for their actions.~

~In my universe, and in this new one that we now inhabit, yes. There was a Madalina of Latveria who cast the Vampire Curse. And yes, this is one of the results. And it's all wrong, and it's terrible, and it's nothing like what you wanted. But you're not her. You're a different Madalina who has a chance to go back to your universe, and not cast that spell. And then in your universe there won't have to be a Count Dracula, there won't have to be a Vampire Curse. You can create a different legacy, one that's bright and good. One that does have a point.~

~Don't despair the choices other Madalinas made, or even the choices you made or came close to making in the past. Those...well, I mean, they provably can be changed I suppose, but it's still crazy difficult and risky and impractical. But what matters most is making the right choices and doing the right things going forward. Now you know more, about the results and the consequences, and the more you know, the better decisions you can make in the future.~

While Katie's words were directed to her grandmother, they weren't restricted to her. They still hung in the Shared Awareness link, for Ta'li to "hear" just as clearly. ~Yeah,~ she sent to the Talisman as realization dawned. She was paying close attention to the skrull's reactions. ~I've been visiting him, since... I don't know if it's what you had done or something else he experienced or a combination of the two, but this is pretty much the last memory he has. In our history, he dies here, or very nearly so. I'm not 100% on the specifics.~

~We're gonna make sure that doesn't happen to this version. Are you with me?~

"Nice to meet you, Jay," she said out loud, with a level of impish cheeriness that was quite out of place on a raging WWII battlefield. "I'm Katie. And if you don't mind, I'm going to do something just a little evil now. HASTE!"

[SuperCracker]

Ronin

Fred could have teleported into a random mirror; but there were two key reasons why he didn’t. The first was that he did not know of a specific mirror there, and thus could have alerted everyone nearby as he popped out in front of anyone. The second reason was that he had experienced some fairly tremendous changes that day. Accessing new abilities and tearing down emotional barriers in the process. The hours had helped him to process those feelings he had repressed for years.

As Ronin approached the island nation, he quickly returned to his normal form. A bright golden light against the dark sky would have brought scores of people to fight him; people he didn’t desire to kill.

Ronin touched down and recalibrated his costume to something more appropriate. It transformed into a traditional samurai’s garb, something similar to what another incarnation had worn once upon a time. Only this time, he had an X as his clan symbol.

Spoiler: Image

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“You are reaching otaku overload levels today, boss.”

Fred shot a glare at his sword.

“I see that senpai has noticed me.”

Fred looked up and took in the landscape. He plotted an appropriate course, prepared to Cheshire Grin and simply run to his destination.

Come and see . . .

He felt a sensation that was difficult to describe. The words shook the very fabric of his being. Fred’s eyes were pulled towards the mountain. What the hell was that? It wasn’t the first time he had heard those words.

You have travelled long, student of Ogun . . . Come and see what I am making . . .

Ronin’s eyes narrowed, especially when it called him a student of Ogun.

“The f*** was that?” Starsoul gave voice to Fred’s thoughts.

“I don’t know, but it’s been waiting.”

“Could be a trap.”

“Hasn’t stopped us before.”

He steeled himself and walked towards the mountain. Ronin smiled and faded away under the stealth of the Cheshire Grin. He had doubts that it would help, but he wouldn’t forfeit the opportunity to gain the upper hand against whatever he was about to confront.

[Thokk_Smash]

It is with a quiet bubble of emotion that Zach realizes the place he currently hovers over. The crown jewel in the Nazi torture machine. The most heinous of all the concentration camps. The place where the greatest number of Hitler's "weaker races" were sent to work, slave, and die for his "vision". Auschwitz.

That emotion grows, and swells, and reaches every part of Zach. His lightning crackles and streaks in response to the emotion: fury. Fists clenched, Zach sees in his mind's eye the textbook pictures he'd read in high school. The terrors he remembers of this place. The skeletal, emaciated bodies that had limped out when they were finally released in 1945. Families ripped from each others' hands; dignity stripped and ground in the dirt; all while the soldiers laughed, and joked, and threw away their own humanity in their perverse goal.

He can probably sneak in there and quietly subdue the guards. He could probably take down the whole camp with minimal fuss and minimum lives lost. Round up the guards and bring them to the nearest Allied outpost. Neat, tidy, and they'd be tried for their crimes against humanity.

...

No.

He shakes his head with a resolute frown. The prisoners down there deserve more than that. These soldiers stripped them of their clothing, their hair, and tried to rob them of their very humanity. And from the prisoners' perspective, the world didn't do a goddamned thing to help them. Not one other country raised a hand to stop Hitler until it was too late, and these prisoners paid the price. Well, they deserve to see some comeuppance come to these soldiers. They are due a healthy dose of revenge. And they won't be in any shape to take it for years.

Well, Zach's an entertainer. He is happy to oblige anything and everything his audience requests.

His fingers strum his guitar as he floats just low enough for the sound to reach the soldiers below. A bit of an odd choice for this task, maybe. But he feels it is right as his lightning gathers.

~"I'm on tonight"~
~"Till I wipe out your blight"~
~"Yeah, yeah, oh"~

He blasts the two closest sentries as he drops down lower, lightning in his eyes and thunder in his voice.

~"Stand up and be proud"~
~"For what you are about to receive"~
~"For I am the dealer"~
~"I'll give you what will fit your deeds"~

Another bolt, larger, hits yet more soldiers who had been patrolling the grounds.

~"You've heil heil'd your good times"~
~"But rock has got the right of way"~
~"You ain't no übermensch, ain't no gods"~
~"You're gonna die today"~

The biggest bolt of lightning he's ever created blasts out of him and toward the sky. It breaks off into separate streaks of energy, all of which crash into more soldiers that had begun to appear.

~"For you about to die, I salute you"~

For clarification, the next bolt of lightning coalesces into a fist. From that fist, the middle finger raises to salute the scattered soldiers. It mimics the raised middle finger on Zach's hands before it splits into yet more bolts to strike the soldiers.

~"You're back here off of the front lines"~
~"Where you torture and you're cruel"~
~"Well, the sky's alight with guitar flight"~
~"You'll pay for all your sins tonight"~

~"For you about to die, I condemn you"~

Taking a moment, he concentrates and produces his lightning twin. He directs the clone to continue cleaning up while Zach himself flies to the prisoners' quarters. His mind flashes back to an hour or so ago...

Spoiler: Flashback

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The last zombie Nazi had been taken out, and Zach and Ronin had taken a moment to rest. The other man had obviously changed, and not just his appearance. Ronin was more open, and far more talkative than before. It was a good look for him, and when Zach told him as much the two shared the best high-five ever. No, really, Zach thought he'd feel the sting from it for days.

They didn't say much about their destinations, but Zach mentioned probably going north for Germany. Ronin had gotten a look in his eye, guarded yet thoughtful. He had looked at Zach for a long dozen moments or so, appearing to measure him with his eyes. "If you're going that way, you'll probably go near Auschwitz. If you do, I need you to do something for me. There will be a young man there named Erik Lensherr." Ronin had paused there, before continuing, "The young Magneto. That's where he was...is being kept. The things the Nazis did to people there, what they did to him...it makes him into the man he becomes."

"You can help him; you can change his life. Show him that someone cares. That a non-mutant can care about what happens to mutants."

Ronin's gaze had been intense as he looked at Zach. Zach could appreciate the gravity of the situation; having an opportunity to change a major player of the future like Magneto was a huge responsibility. And Ronin was asking it of him. So he nodded as gravely as he could, and shook the other man's hand.

"Oh, one more thing," Ronin had asked as Zach started to fly away. He looked even more guarded than before as he said, "There's a woman there named Chava Rosanoff. Make sure she's okay."

Zach quirked a brow in question. He let his face do the talking for him until Ronin sighed and said, "She's Kitty Pryde's great-aunt."

With a nod of understanding, Zach gave Ronin a two-fingered salute and zipped off.

He reaches the prisoners' area and blasts off the lock. Opening the gate, he grimaces at the stench of human bodies packed in like sardines. Forcing a charming and reassuring smile to his face, he says, "Everybody stay calm. I'm here to get you all out of here. We'll need to wait until all the soldiers are gone, but until then, just know: you don't have to worry about them anymore."

"I do have a question, though: Is there someone named Erik Lensherr here? And a woman named Chava Rosanoff?"

Spoiler

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Routining the attacks on the guards

Routine a Persuasion to convince and rally the prisoners.

[herodofcows]

Potence

Madalina is silent for a moment. When she speaks, it is in leaden tones.

~Granddaughter . . . but for your influence, but for seeing this, that would have been me. But for God's grace in bringing you to me, and us both to see these minions of my great curse, that would have been me. You have saved me, but I am not yet saved, not truly. I have sinned, granddaughter. Satan's pride has taken root within my heart, and you have only clasped its foul blooms back into the dirt. When there is time, when I am formed whole again . . . I must find a priest. I have much to confess, and I fear Father Gianpierro would not understand the magnitude of my sins..~

Jay turns to you with yet another confident smile, leaving the Talisman to stare for a moment.

"Evil? Have you seen what sort of-"

And then Haste hits.

"WooooaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!"

Your entire side of the island seems to be covered in laughing red mist as Jay picks up speed. You feel a great disturbance among the Nazi forces, as if a few hundred vampires cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.

As Jay disappears into his seconds-long rampage, the Talisman finally replies. It's a testament to your augments and the Speed Force that her thought-speed words end at around the same time that he returns.

~The Winter Soldier was a gun that I stole from his owners. When I first encountered him, he was already much as you had seen him. I used him, yes . . . but I did not make him. And if you would undo what was done to him, I will help. Perhaps more, if we can get some of his essence. With my magic and your power, we might use THIS Garrick to help the other one . . .~

"WOO!"

Jay suddenly comes back into focus, breathless and beaming and covered in vampiric ash. Suddenly grabbing you by the hand, he twirls and dips you as though you were on a dance hall floor.

"YOU! You have just become my favorite!" he exclaims, "How did you DO that?"

You have a good view over Jay's shoulder. Looking up, you see the night sky twinkling innocently . . .

And then, suddenly, two eyes. A black and purple cowl. A mouth that appears to be nothing but fang.

Baron Blood, going for Jay's neck.

Sarah

Sylvester nods appreciatively as you describe your plans.

"I like it. Takes advantage of what Kang has done here. There are a lot of alternate dimensions kicking around now, and I'm sure a number of them owe you a debt. Good place to start looking for recruits, if you have the means to call them. The Doomlocks gave you anchors to work with, but navigating back could be a little tricky.

"Sending Darkseid through to a series of natural disasters . . . might work as a distraction. He'll be at least as tough as a Kryptonian who's spent their life in the yellow sun. I don't know if you can rely on that for damage dealing. Might be a good way to clear out his footsoldiers, or destabilize things from within Apokolips. Start looking into planet-busters, I think. Take out Apokolips and Darkseid loses most of what makes him so imposing . . ."

At this point, he seems to register what you said about visiting. Once again, there's that half-goofy smile, illuminated by the light of concentrated solar beams.

"I'd . . . I'd like that. Visiting, I mean. I suppose we can figure out a way to get me back to my timeline on our own, now that there's not a ticking clock with the Doomlocks anymore. Just a quick little look, I suppose. Yes . . . I'd like that. I could look over your notes, and you could help me figure out the Flashpoint from your point in time. You have all the information I have right now. Maybe there's more out there in 2005."

He looks as though he's fumbling his words for a moment, and then the question seems to force itself out of him.

"Are you happy?"

Thunderstruck

The lightning pulses, roars, shrieks as it comes blasting down upon the camp guards. Men in SS uniforms emerge from their posts with weapons at the ready, or else flee towards various buildings with intent to call reinforcements. Neither group gets very far.

Screams of terror and agony echo throughout the camp, once silent with soul-tarnishing despair. Soldiers writhe on the ground, horrific burns along their bodies and faces. There is no blood. Just charred flesh. Just death.

MORE death.

Your clone takes the lead as you turn to the prisoners. If this were a movie, there would be some kind of joyous reaction right now. There would be tears of joy, whooping and cheering, a mad dash to freedom . . .

This isn't a movie. They look at you blankly, almost as though they are trying to figure out exactly what is happening. Men, women, children . . . there doesn't seem to be an ounce of emotion to be found within the entire assembly. Their eyes are like thick glass, clouded by some inner alchemy that has transformed an unbearable degree of suffering into a kind of armor against despair. They have chained away the parts of themselves that would scream for horror and never stop.

There are walls that must come down.

Walls behind the eyes, in the minds and hearts of human beings pushed further into the depths of cruelty and misery than could ever be borne.

Your queries sound amidst the backdrop of lightning and thunder and screaming and death, and embed themselves within this wall of despairing silence. There is no answer.

Spoiler: History DC 20

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"Erik Lensharr" is actually an alias that Magneto created later in life. He was born with the name Max Eisenhardt.

Spoiler: OOC

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This is slightly anachronistic. Auschwitz-Birkenau became a part of Hitler's Final Solution in early 1942, a few months after the events depicted here. Up until that point, it had been used to house Polish political prisoners. Jews like Magneto or Chava Rosanoff would have still been living in ghettos at this point in time. That said, the impact of the camp on the characters within this universe is worth exploring, and so I am including it as such. Obviously, I can't hope to properly convey the despair and horror associated with living in those camps, and perhaps it is cheap to try, or to use it as a point of narrative conceit. However, this is the corner into which I have written myself, and I'll try to carry it out as best I can.

Ronin

Your passage up the mountain is unimpeded, and soon you come level with the forge. From up here, your view over the landscape is somewhat improved. There are dells and forests and peaks, yes, but now you can see the roads tracing their way through the wilderness. You see the roofs of a village tucked within the dells, a few kilometers distant. From here, it looks as though it is the only place in the world, seeming utterly forgotten by the war and cruelty that ravages the continents you have just quitted.

Come within, student of Ogun.

The heat from the forge feels like a literal push as you open the door, layering across your skin like a blanket, like an embrace, like a sudden rainfall. The fires burn white-hot, and the smell of burning wood is nearly overwhelming.

You see a robed figure of a man silhouetted against the flame, carefully etching at a piece of tempered steel. He is tall, with long raven hair, and comfortably broad-shouldered beneath the robe. He does not turn to look at you, but you hear his words easily over the roar of the flame.

Tell me this; what are the qualities of a perfect weapon?

[SuperCracker]

Ronin

The quiet mountainside would have been the image of serenity had it not been for the blood being spilled across the world. Was it fate that brought Ronin to this time, long before his birth, to stand before a being that predicted his coming? Each step towards the forge felt like he was moving relentlessly forward towards some powerful secret. Ronin came into view as he reached the door. He stepped across the threshold, buffeted by heat. Yet in he walked, slowing as he spied the man standing ahead.

Ronin kept his left hand loose, ready to draw Starsoul if he needed to.

“I’m not Ogun’s student. I’m his killer.”

There was a special place in Hell reserved for that monster. What he’d wanted to do to Kitty was unforgivable. As for the question posed;

“Reliability, durability, the ability to subdue or kill one’s enemies; practically speaking. But there’s more to it, depending on why one fights. My perfect weapon already belongs to me. It’s a sword of justice.”

He stopped, some distance from the figure.

“Who are you?”

[Quellian-dyrae]

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm making a biiiiit of an assumption here about what Baron Blood's attack entails. I'm about 90% sure I'm right, but if not, let me know and I'll edit as necessary.

Katie didn't argue, because her grandmother wasn't wrong. She wanted to. It was in Katie's nature to offer comfort to those she loved, to justify their actions, to tell them they had done no wrong. To protect them from the pain of guilt and shame.

But...Katie had come face to face with those feelings in Troy. For the first time in her life, she had really, truly failed her moral system, her beliefs. And the guilt that came with that...oh, yes, it was painful. It hurt terribly. But she clung to it nonetheless, because that pain was a constructive pain, was one more thing that would keep her from ever, ever doing something like that again.

Sometimes, people punish themselves for things that weren't so bad, or that they didn't have control over. Sometimes, people got so mired in guilt that it crushed them rather than teaching them. Sometimes, guilt was mixed in with a bunch of other, unhealthier emotions, and couldn't do its job. In cases like these, Katie would still always be there for the ones she loved, to listen and comfort and support them.

But even she had to admit...Madalina had been 90% of the way to performing literally one of the most evil acts in history. That she knew that, that she did feel guilty about it, was natural, and right, and good.

~We will,~ she answered gently, unhesitatingly including herself in the matter. Because even if Katie couldn't assuage this guilt, it didn't mean she would force her grandmother to bear the pain alone.

~I didn't know,~ she admitted to Ta'li, and there was apology in her tone. She had pretty much just wrongfully accused the Talisman of what had happened to Jay to make him the Winter Soldier, after all. ~And that would be great! Um...what would the essence thing entail, exactly?~ Words like "get some of his essence" set off red flags in Katie's head, but it might have been just a thaumaturgical trick.

She made a note to also ask Ta'li who those..."owners" that she stole him from were. That information seemed like it would be relevant to her future interests. Katie did not believe in vengeance. She absolutely believed in making sure people who had done evil never did it again. Sometimes, that looked like the work she was trying to do here, with Madalina and the Talisman.

Other times...well, other times, it looked a lot like vengeance!

And then there were the other other times:

Katie laughed as Jay spun her, and once she was upright again, answered with a cheery grin, "Magic!" She said it in a playfully cryptic "this means I'm not actually gonna tell you" voice, but after a beat said more seriously, "I mean, literally. I'm a wiz-"

Before she could finish the sentence, Baron Blood made his attack.

"NO!" Katie yelled, quick as a flash (or maybe a Flash) hurling herself in the way of the vampire's bite. Fred probably would have been furious with her. Not only had she jumped into harm's way again, but she totally stole his bingo.

Her wards kept the vampire from tearing her throat out...but they couldn't keep his fangs from piercing her vein. "AHHH!" Katie cried out as her blood poured into the vampire's mouth.

"Ahhhhh...hhh...h...h-h-h.......h-hahahahaha..." she breathed out shakily. She was feeling lightheaded. Her legs were weak. Her pupils were dilated in instinctive terror. But nonetheless...

Katie Alden was wearing a fierce, wolfish smile.

"Oh-h-h...buddy. Did you ever pick the wrong five-nothing blond girl to drink from...!" she quipped weakly, raising her wand towards the vampire who now had her blood in his gut.

And she let grandma take the wheel!

[Thokk_Smash]

Zach is proud of many things. His guitar skills, of course. His silvered tongue, developed over years of talking himself out of bad situations, is definitely another. His ability to manipulate, to mince words, to bring the situation around to his favor, those are all things he likes about himself. And he ain't bad-looking, either. And what he does not like about himself, he easily compartmentalizes that bit of himself and puts it far out of his mind. When he wants, he can be the most gullible audience to himself.

But in front of those eyes, he cannot speak blithely or freely. He cannot look away from the soulless, dead stares of the prisoners. He is suddenly acutely aware of the noise his duplicate is making with his lightning, painfully cognizant of the screams of terror and pain that are filling his ears. This place...these people have heard more than their fair share of agony and death in these halls. Except this time, it was by his hand, by his conscious decision, that these prisoners have to listen to this symphony of pain and terror.

There is one more thing Zach excels at, but it is one thing that does not bring him much pride. It has given him far too much grief in his life; has brought him much pain, brought troubles upon him that would not have been his otherwise. It helps him to persuade others, for sure, and helps to know what parts would be best to poke or prod for his own benefits. But having a good amount of empathy has painful downsides, and now, it is making it so he is feeling uncomfortable shame in his own actions.

"I..." he stutters as his eyes move from person to person. Not a single person has an expression more soft or expressive than utter apathy. His breath catches in his throat as more lightning crashes, threatening to choke him with the new emotion overriding everything else. Fury is gone, the fury he had claimed to be on the part of the prisoners. He can realize now, that he had merely projected his own anger and frustration at recent events onto them.

How can they care about revenge, right now? They can't even care about themselves--or else the prison guards would just beat it out of them.

"St...stop," he chokes out to his clone. The lightning, and shouts, and death throes drown out his plea. With a strangled noise, he slams his hand onto the ground. Silently, streaks of lightning surround the prisoners' area and then raise into the sky. His power forms a dome around the area, shutting out the terrible sounds he has been making.

"I said, stop!" he yells to, well, himself. The clone looks back at him in confusion while the soldiers mill about, and those on the ground moan in pain. "To all Nazi soldiers who can hear me: if you surrender now, no more will die. All of you who do not want to die, lay down your weapons and kneel on the ground, now. I...I do not want to kill anyone else, if I don't have to."

As long as the soldiers comply, Zach takes a moment to focus. After a few seconds, the one lightning duplicate splits into a half-dozen. They are all weaker overall than him, but they will be able to dig graves and disarm soldiers well enough. He directs them to disarm them and tie them up, and then to dig graves for those he had killed. Those he had wounded but are still alive...he sends one to find the camp doctor to help them. Hopefully it can keep most of them alive.

Once the soldiers are taken care of, Zach takes a minute to catch his breath. He's running on empty, but there's still more to be done. Taking a steadying breath, he walks into the silence-bubble he had created around the prisoners.

"I...I'm sorry, about that," he says, and his voice carries throughout the area. "The last thing you all needed was more screams of pain. I...I'm sorry. For what you've gone through. I cannot even imagine what you all have gone through. I cannot fathom what you have had to do to survive in this hell. What you have had to sacrifice. What has been taken from you."

His voice is hoarse from keeping his tears in, and from yelling orders at his duplicates. His tongue is not silver-lined now, his words not chosen for maximum effect. He is simply saying what he feels, now.

"Nothing I can say will change what happened here. All I can say is...it's over. The Nazis will soon fall, and the Third Reich will just be a chapter in school textbooks. And while you all may feel like living corpses now, I beg you, remember: you are all still alive. I beg you to allow yourself to feel once more. You are all still humans. You all deserve to cry, and to laugh, and to mourn. The greatest victory is to live for those you have lost."

Years ago, Zach had been into a girl who was Jewish. And as all young men do when they're trying to get with a girl, they start to "like" the things the girl likes. So he had visited her temple with her a few times. And Zach'll be honest, the memories of those times have stuck with him, even now. Right now, he can clearly remember visiting the temple during a funeral for one of her friends' parents. The hymn they had chanted then comes back to him, and he stands straight as he begins, slowly, stumbling over the words but saying them clearly for all to hear:

"Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba"

"b'al'ma di v'ra khir'utei"

"v'yam'likh mal'khutei b'chayeikhon uv'yomeikhon"

"uv'chayei d'khol beit Yis'ra'eil"

"ba'agala uviz'man kariv v'im'ru..."

He pauses here, as he believes the chorister had paused during the ceremony. This was when the rest of the temple had chimed in with "Amen", and the mourner had continued after. If none replies, he starts from the beginning again. His voice grows more sure, his voice takes on the proper intonation of the words, and he does not stop, cannot stop, and is willing to chant until his voice gives out if it means that they will begin to participate.

Spoiler

Show

Assuming the prisoners do begin to take up the chant, Zach'll stop and go through while looking for Max Eisenhardt.

[CandyLaser]

Sylvester nods appreciatively as you describe your plans.

"I like it. Takes advantage of what Kang has done here. There are a lot of alternate dimensions kicking around now, and I'm sure a number of them owe you a debt. Good place to start looking for recruits, if you have the means to call them. The Doomlocks gave you anchors to work with, but navigating back could be a little tricky.

"Sending Darkseid through to a series of natural disasters . . . might work as a distraction. He'll be at least as tough as a Kryptonian who's spent their life in the yellow sun. I don't know if you can rely on that for damage dealing. Might be a good way to clear out his footsoldiers, or destabilize things from within Apokolips. Start looking into planet-busters, I think. Take out Apokolips and Darkseid loses most of what makes him so imposing . . ."

"Funny you should mention Kryptonians. I had one imprisoned for a while, back in my world's distant past. Had plenty of time to examine him, too. It's not plan B - hell, it's something like plan S - but I've got some ideas for what to do if Darkseid kills me. I might know of a friend in the future who owes me a favor, too... I'll have to look into it."

At this point, he seems to register what you said about visiting. Once again, there's that half-goofy smile, illuminated by the light of concentrated solar beams.

"I'd . . . I'd like that. Visiting, I mean. I suppose we can figure out a way to get me back to my timeline on our own, now that there's not a ticking clock with the Doomlocks anymore. Just a quick little look, I suppose. Yes . . . I'd like that. I could look over your notes, and you could help me figure out the Flashpoint from your point in time. You have all the information I have right now. Maybe there's more out there in 2005."

He looks as though he's fumbling his words for a moment, and then the question seems to force itself out of him.

"Are you happy?"

Sylvester's question caught Sarah off-guard. She'd have blamed it on the distraction caused by sustaining her duplicates here, but that was sadly not the case. The truth was she was just ill-accustomed to having people ask after her emotional well-being. In fact, as far as she could recall, it was pretty much just Katie who even made the attempt to ask. Once the initial shock of surprise had passed, the pause still dragged on for a moment while Sarah pondered her answer.

"I'm happy in my work. I'm happy in my research. I'm happy to make a difference and to make the world a better place. That's enough, for me." She smiled, albeit a bit weakly. "You did well, Grandfather. I know my childhood was strange, but I wouldn't trade it for any other. You gave me a purpose."

[herodofcows]

Potence

The Talisman gives a strangled cry and lets out a fiery blast that sends Baron Blood slamming into the ground. Jay, shocked by this sudden turn of events, looks on in horror before coming to himself.

"You-"

In a microsecond, he has charged Baron Blood and begun beating his recumbent form. In two microseconds, Blood has grasped him by the throat and slammed him against a boulder. In three microseconds, he is flying towards the Talisman with a predatory leer and incredible speed. In four microseconds . . .

"STOP!"

. . . in four microseconds, Madalina is up and running.

Baron Blood turns towards you as though driven by strings and pulleys, evidently nonplussed even beneath his cloak and cowl. You touch your neck and the bleeding stops. A few errant drops coalesce into orbs and begin circling your head.

~If I have sinned so grievously, then let me bear the burden myself.~

You feel your lips tug back into a humorless smile as you stalk towards the Baron. You do not stop until you are standing right in front of him.

"Hello!" you exclaim in brittle cheery tones.

There is a moment of silence as Baron Blood seems to try and form words.

"Would you like to see a magic trick?!?" you press on, a manic gleam in your eye and a venomous twist in your speech.

And then, suddenly, you are alone again in your mind. Madalina is gone.

Baron Blood finally sets his face into a defiant sneer and begins to speak:

"You'll never get me to . . . to . . ."

Panic overtakes his face as he loses the train of his thought. He looks down to his torso, suddenly terrified. He twitches his cloak aside and you can see that his ribcage is . . . pulsing . . .

"What did youuuuaaaaaaAAAAUUUUGH!!!!"

There is a wet series of cracks as his ribs all burst outwards, piercing his flesh and tearing his stomach open. His mummified viscera pour out, but the ribs continue to snap apart until five larger ones on each side are separated from the rest. They wiggle together independently for a moment . . . and then flesh begins to coat them, even as you see them twisting and breaking and becoming fingers.

"STOP IT OH GOD STOP IT PLEASE"

The Talisman and Jay both stare, the latter in horror and the former in rapt attention.

"I SURRENDER I SUR-Haugh . . . hauuuuugh . . ."

The Baron's cries mute themselves as his mouth becomes filled with . . . is that an elbow?

His left leg swells up and writhes under his clothes, even as the fingers reach out and reveal hands, his head begins to sag inward as the arm is withdrawn, his back arches, hunches, twists, and crackles as the spine becomes a leg, and then . . .

SPLORCH

The Baron explodes. Not in the ashy dusty way of the vampires that the rest of the Misfits are currently tearing through, mind you. No, this explosion is wet and warm and MESSY.

And there, standing in the middle of the flower of viscera, is Madalina. Green robes, raven hair, gray eyes . . . and a cheerless smile.

"Well, come on then!" she exclaims, gesturing imperiously at everyone as she strides off, "These aberrations need killing!"

The Talisman follows Madalina almost immediately. From where you're standing, you're able to hear ". . . was FANTASTIC . . ." before their conversation is swallowed by the din of battle.

Jay looks after them for a moment, and then turns to you. He is utterly pale, and his eyes are wide.

"Have to say, doll . . . that wasn't right."

Sarah

You aren't a hugger. Your grandfather isn't a hugger. Yours was not a supremely huggy childhood. For all that, there are moments between you where a hug might be said to happen in all but deed. This is one of those moments.

Sylvester looks at you with a smile that might be satisfied or, perhaps, just a little bit sad.

"We've never lacked for purpose, have we? Saving the world, saving the future, saving the universe from one problem or another . . . how many people get to do that?"

He shakes his head and casts his eye over the island. Even at night, even punctuated by bursts of lethal sunlight and vampiric shrieks, there is a kind of megalithic beauty to Malta. The air retains a sort of clear-cutting warmth and comfort to it, and the distant lapping of the sea might be a comfort and balm to a weary soul.

"I suppose I can't help but think of Kang . . . doing all he can, in his mind, to save the universe, but all without any real attachment to it. It's made me think about my life in 2099: how little attachment I had to it, how eager and ready I was to erase everything for the good of the multiverse. I was right, of course: the Flashpoint alone is proof that there's something amiss. Still, I can't help but wonder whether we're a bit too detached from the thing that we're meant to be saving. And . . . I can't help but wonder how much of that I've passed on to you, by word and deed."

Ronin

The man does not laugh aloud, but you get the sense that he is chuckling anyway.

His killer? Then you are doubly his student. Ogun has had many, and he will have many more. I know. I have seen.

He holds up the metal and looks at it with the eye of a professional. You can see that it glimmers in a way that steel could never manage. It is a sword blank, not yet fashioned into a blade but clearly destined to hold an edge and fit into a hilt.

The etching pattern is difficult to see fully. You see snow, and horror, and wolves, and a smile with far too many teeth . . .

In this time, in this place, I am Muramasa. In other times, in other places, I have other names.

He shoves the sword blank into the fire, not seeming to notice the heat.

Learn this, twice-taught of Ogun: A weapon is a weapon. The wielder decides if a sword is one of justice or of horrors. If that decision is not yours to make, then the weapon is not yours.

He hammers once, twice, thrice. Something shatters within the flames, and Muramasa grunts appreciatively.

I make perfect weapons. Reliable, durable, deadly weapons. And you, twice-taught of Ogun . . .

He withdraws the metal and turns to show it to you. His face is lean and cunning, with a smile like a knife to the ribs framed by a thin black beard and mustache. His eyes are a fiery red, and they look at you with a kind of . . . impressed amusement?

. . . you can help me in the forging.

He shows you the metal. It is now a perfect blade, down to a perfect hilt. Along the blade, you can see the inscriptions . . . and then again, you can't . . .

When the time is right, this blade will go to the one who makes his home in the valley below. He will take it, and he will wield it like an angry god. Gods and devils will fall before him.

. . . so much blood, you can see so much BLOOD . . .

In this time, in this place, he is called Logan. In other times, in other places, he has other names.

But for now, and forevermore, he is a weapon.

And then you are alone on a bare mountain, standing in the ruins of an abandoned forge.

Thunderstruck

There is a moment of leaden silence as you begin to chant. In the background, you can hear the final screams of the dying and wounded Nazis gutter out into sobs. Some part of you is aware of guards throwing down their weapons, of lightning hands tying up surrendering fascists, of work being done, but all that exists for you here is . . .

"Amen."

It is a low rumble, seeming to come from the very depths of the chests of those who say it. It's far from everyone, and it's far from strident or determined . . . but it's there.

"Y'hei sh'mei raba m'varakh . . . l'alam ul'al'mei al'maya . . ."

The prisoners begin to move now. Those that are not chanting . . . some stand. Some sit. Some look at the sky. Some look at the ground. Many begin moving from building to building, looking for family, for valuables, for food and supplies. A rising buzz of conversation begins to dominate the area as people begin planning, coordinating. Most ignore you, or make a pointed attempt at ignoring you. Some approach you and clasp your hand, your shoulder, your face. There are tears. There is silence. There is sobbing. There is relief. The walls are not down yet. But they are coming down. Maybe, now, they will fall within years instead of decades. For some, the fact that they might fall at all is a victory on its own.

And then, suddenly, you find yourself facing the object of your search.

He is nearly unrecognizable. He is young, barely into his mid teens. He is emaciated and dirty and scarred and scuffed. His hair is black and worn, mostly covered beneath the worn and shapeless hats they give to Sonderkommandos.

For all that, you know it's him. Maybe the cast of his bone structure is too distinctive to forget. Maybe there's something in his eyes. Maybe it's from the new power inside you, one breaker of walls recognizing another. Whatever the cause, you know almost immediately that you've found him. Max Eisenhardt. Erik Lensharr. Magneto.

"Why did you stop?" he whispers, looking behind you at the carnage with eyes like flint.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Katie had been prepared for a certain amount of carnage.

See, undead were different. Katie had actually done a lot of research on this. Because there was the occasional good vampire and such out there. Like Spitfire. They were still sentient creatures. Katie did not want to fall into the trap of judging a different type of being as evil and appropriate for destruction just due to a bad rep.

But...no, undead really were cursed abominations, blights on the world that in 99.9+% of cases were best destroyed. The rare oddities like Spitfire were unique exceptions. For your average vampire, it wasn't that they made a poor moral decision to kill humans for sustenance instead of subsisting on animals or coming up with some alternate solution. They were just monsters who drank blood, supernatural horrors that were not so much immoral as amoral. They could not be redeemed, because they had no capacity to choose between good and evil.

So unless a specific undead proved its own humanity...they had to be destroyed. Katie was comfortable with that. She'd attack undead directly, turn fire and sunlight upon them, without qualm. And, you know, she'd even be a little mean about it, sometimes. Like, she wouldn't inflict unnecessary suffering or anything (that was just wrong even if your target was a shambling animated corpse). But...you know, she could get a bit enthusiastic about it. Revel in her power a little. Relieve some stress, as it were. Maybe take the opportunity to get a little creative.

So, yeah, when Baron Blood had bitten her, despite the pain, and the fear, the idea of turning his blood-sucking attempt against him by letting Madalina loose on him sounded like a brilliant idea. She was figuring something like, a spell that would cause the blood he had drank to turn into sunlight and explode, or something. A nice, wholesome, creatively karmic way to destroy an uppity vampire.

Except, uh, her grandmother's sense of humor was not exactly the same as her own.

Once Madalina had vanished from her head, Katie could only watch in shocked horror as she...she...Katie didn't even have a word for what she did to Baron Blood. Destroyed? Consumed? Shredded? They were all technically accurate, but none of them really seemed to cover it.

Her ancestor had a body again. That...that was a good thing. ...Right?

Ta'li spoke in approval. The two powerful mages went off in search of more vampires to destroy.

Katie began to realize that she had her work cut out for her.

She looked blankly at Jay as he said his piece. Gods, what must he think of her? Best he knew, that had been her spell. "N-not so much," she said shakily, and not just from loss of blood.

Then she turned around and retched on the ground.

"Uh-h," she groaned, cantripping herself clean, and healing herself while she was at it, though it would still take a bit before she stopped feeling so woozy. Her face was still pale and sweaty. Fortunately, thanks to Jay's previous hasted rampage, this area should be pretty clear of hostiles. "Um...I think I'm gonna just...wait here for a few minutes. Yeah... That sounds good..." She gave a solid nod, and with a gesture of her wand, called up her Flying Hand...flopping down upon it as if it were a couch to wait patiently for the world to stop spinning.

[Thokk_Smash]

"Shalom."

Zach accepts those who reach out for him with that murmured greeting. "Hello". "Peace."

"Shalom," he says, gripping the shoulder of a man who had gripped his own. The man had once been huge, but is thin as Zach despite the big bones sticking out of his shoulder. He wills the man to accept some of his power, to feel something more than despair.

"Shalom," he whispers to an emaciated woman, his own mother's age, gripping her hand in reassurance where it cups his cheek. He takes her hand and kisses it, despite the grime and filth, and wills her to accept the affection of a son that perhaps she had lost.

"Shalom," he barely chokes out as a small child grips his pant leg in disbelief. He places a hand on the girl's head and can feel an unintentional spark leap from him to her. When she throws her hands around his legs he kneels to hug her fully.

It feels like hours, and dozens of inmates, later that he finds himself in front of Magneto. No, not quite Magneto. This thin-bodied, emaciated, filth-covered man is as far from the imperious, magnificent, stalwart man that he remembers seeing in Magneto in those glimpses on a news broadcast. No, this is merely Max Eisenhardt, not even Erik Lensherr yet...but it's there. The seed of what Magneto becomes in his world has taken root in this young man, in the hard, lifeless flint of his accusing eyes.

"On my way here, I only thought about kicking Nazi a**," he says, shifting slightly so he stands between that hard gaze and the carnage outside. "I just helped stop a Nazi invasion of Malta, killed a sh*tton of Nazi vampires (yeah, they exist, sadly). And I flew up here looking for another fight, and another, until I couldn't find anymore Nazi bastards to electrocute to death."

"That's the feelings I came here with. And yeah, killing those bastards outside felt good; they more than deserved it, and I won't lose a wink of sleep over the bastards that are dying right now."

He takes a breath, considering his next words. "When I was about half your age, my father was murdered. Right in front of me." He is glad his voice wavers only slightly. "Even now I can hear his screams, see his blood on the floor, the chair, the ceiling..." Okay, maybe his voice wavers more than slightly. "It left a hole in me. When I was older I was...offered power. And one of the conditions I gave them was that I be told where I could find the men who killed my father. So I went to them and...tried to fill the hole."

He lets that statement hang in the air for a bit. "After the first one, I felt good for about an hour. Then the hole felt empty again, and I had to find the next. After the third, I realized that I just felt even more empty than before. The hole had gotten even bigger."

"That's the feeling I got when I saw your fellow prisoners. Lifeless, soulless, listening to the death of their captors without even shock or disgust at how I'd mutilated them. I had told myself I was doing this for them, to get revenge for them, for you. But I realized that the way I went about it was the worst possible way."

He looks into Max's eyes, the lightning in his own eyes flashing. "You've been hurt worse than anyone in history. What the Nazis did to you and your people is unforgivable, and I do not blame you for wanting revenge. But causing them pain and death will not fill the hole they've made in your heart. That kind of revenge is a painkiller, masking the pain until you need your next dose. It will never end if you choose that road. You will throw your life away filling that hole with corpses until your own joins the ranks."

He grabs Max's shoulders and looks him in the eyes. "But there are other ways to take revenge," he whispers with ferocious intensity, the lightning in his eyes flaring. "The Nazis wanted to destroy your culture, enslave and subjugate you until history forgot there was any people known as Jews...or mutants. Their greatest victory would be for the world to forget this tragedy.

"Do not let the world forget this. Rally your people. You have tremendous power in you, Max. Use it to help your people. Help them rebuild. Help them find a safe place in this world. And use your power to give your people a voice. Use that voice to shout 'We will not be forgotten'."

"And always remember this: more death will not fill the hole the Nazis have made in you and your people. The only thing that can do that... is life."

Spoiler

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Fingers and toes crossed, and RNG sacrifices at the ready: (1d20+20)[38] for Persuasion, +Attractive? (He and Xavier have something, or so the fangirls tell me...)

[CandyLaser]

"There's a crucial difference between us. I have friends and allies in my time. They help. They keep me grounded, or at least they try." Sarah glanced around, nervously. The only people present were her own duplicates - oh, and the dying vampires, but they didn't count. No time like the present, she thought. She blocked the shared awareness for a moment, threw caution to the wind, and caught up her grandfather in a hug.

"I know you always did the best you could, Grandfather. And it's all going to turn out all right."

[SuperCracker]

Ronin

Fred’s eyes narrowed as he continued to approach the figure. There was a menace that cautioned him. Fred’s right hand moved to his sword and unsheathed it by one inch, ready to strike. Ronin paused when he was ten feet from the forge master; whoever and whatever he was. And as he kept speaking, he painted a picture of wicked intent. Muramasa, who forged blades made for pure violence, that drove their wielders to crave murder. He was an enemy.

He spoke of the decision being up to the wielder. That would normally be true for anyone, but with Starsoul, things were different. “My sword is forged from me. It is my way of the samurai personified. If I were to wield it in evil, I don’t think it would let me. I wouldn’t be worthy of it. That's better than twisting its purpose.”

“We’re forged from the same steel. I’m a regular Holy Avenger.” A nerd shout-out to Fred.

Ronin himself remained silent, watching and observing. He saw the metal, the details of the sword he couldn’t quite make out. He looked at the man; the man with red eyes and black hair. There was something terribly familiar about this man.

. . . you can help me in the forging.

What?

When the time is right, this blade will go to the one who makes his home in the valley below. He will take it, and he will wield it like an angry god. Gods and devils will fall before him.

The blood… death and carnage filled his vision. This man had to be stopped. Golden light exploded outward from Fred as he transformed. As Fred prepared to take action to stop the man, Muramasa said the name Logan. The one he would gift his cursed blade to. The one he would drive to bathe the world in blood… Fred’s only real father-figure.

“Bullsh**.”

Ronin rushed forward, striking where the man was… yet there was no man. There was no fire. The building itself was a ruin. Fred was sweating as if awakening from a fever dream.

What was Muramasa going to do to Logan… and how did he plan to use Fred to help?

He couldn't afford to sit there and ponder... he had tragedies to stop in the here and now.

[herodofcows]

Potence

The cries of dying vampires are punctuated by your grandmother's full-throated laughter. Jay looks at you with a sort of reserved pity. He looks out over the battlefield briefly, and then comes to sit next to you.

"Hey, I mean . . ." he starts, and then hesitates for a moment as he tries to find the words.

"You, ah . . . you know Captain America? Tall, big muscles, red-white-and-blue . . . you've seen the newsreels. They make him look like a big He-man coming over to smack the Krauts in the chops, you know, but he's not like that anymore. Hell, I remember when he first ran a mission with us back in '39. First time he saw what a machine gun could do up close, you never saw a guy go so green. Nearly threw up all over the stars and stripes, my right hand to God.

He pauses to see if there's any reaction to this, and then presses on.

"Point is, Cap's probably one of the most stand-up guys I ever met. And he doesn't go green around the gills anymore when things get messy. But he feels it, you can tell. And I think . . . well, I think that's good, y'know. I think we're supposed to feel it. I think that means we're still us. I dunno what all that hocus pocus was just there. That's more Doc Fate's thing. But this, what you're feeling right now? THAT'S you. Not . . ."

He gestures helplessly at the still-cooling mass of what used to be Baron Blood.

"So, uh, don't be too down on yourself, okay? It's war. War's nasty. But . . . ahem. Yeah."

And he sits with you until you're ready to get back up.

Sarah

"Thank you," you hear him whisper.

And so, hovering well above the ground and with the odd vampire yelling, you and your grandfather hug for the first time in decades. Or centuries going either way, or . . .

. . . too long. In far too long.

Thunderstruck

Magn . . . Max's breathing seems to stop entirely as you speak. The set of his jaw relaxes just slightly, and even begins to quiver for a moment . . . or perhaps it is a trick of the light. He looks at you, a boy no more than sixteen, trying to hide within his anger because otherwise he might break into a million pieces.

And then you say the word "mutant".

You see a flash of confusion piece through the flint in his eyes, followed by dawning understanding. As you tell him that he has great power, you see him look down at his hand and flex it, as though suddenly remembering that he can move.

"Mutant . . ." he whispers, half-choked, half to himself, "so there are others like me . . ."

Crrrreeaaaaaaaaak

There are muted exclamations as the fences begin to creak and bend. The barbed wire coils and slithers like a living thing. Metal bars begin to writhe and float.

The doors of the squat stone buildings burst open, and out pour . . . everything. Fillings. Spectacle frames. Tools. Showerheads. Entire furnace fragments. A cloud of swarming metal ascends into the sky, dimming the stars and humming with immense power.

Everyone is exclaiming, suddenly showing signs of life as they look about in awe and fear. They are, on this world, the first to see the dawn of Magneto.

Whatever your words, whatever their effect . . . they will NOT be the last.

As though in a trance, the mutant steps forward past the lines that once marked the fence, towards the supine and kneeling Nazis. His face is tensed, radiating some indescribable emotion with the force of a blazing sun.

He gestures . . . and the metal spirals towards the earth.

There are screams, and the sounds of the earth rending. Briefly the world seems to be made up of nothing but a cloud, a swarm of twisting metal and fear . . .

But when it clears, you can see that no one has been harmed. The prisoners, the clones, the captured Nazis . . . all yet untouched.

The camp is ringed by words now, words in Hebrew and German, words made of the metal that had braced this terrible place:

מותו של החלכאים היה כאן

DER ELENDEVERNICHTUNG WAR HIER

"Here died the wretched"

Magneto turns and looks at you . . . and now it is Max again. A boy of no more than sixteen, yet destined for so much more than vengeance.

"I have had my fill of pits and corpses," he says to the world.

Ronin

The wind whips at your vestments as you make your way towards your intended destination. There is so much to do, and so little time. There are cities worth of people to save, and stalks of deadly hubris to scour from your half-adoptive nation before they blossom into tragedy.

But somewhere, below, Logan is living his life and (presumably) unaware of the manipulating threads and fingers that surround him and seek to shape him into something . . .

He will take it, and he will wield it like an angry god. Gods and devils will fall before him . . .

Snow, and horror, and wolves, and a smile with far too many teeth . . .

You can see the inscriptions . . . and then again, you can't . . .

So much blood . . .

Was this a quirk of this particular universe, or does something even worse than awful lurk in Logan's forgotten past?

Spoiler: OOC

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Typing up the final post for this adventure now. Feel free to summarize (OOC or IC) any further actions you would take.