He shook. Not in fear, nor in pain, though he felt none of the first and much of the second. No, Lucius was shaking in anger, rage, HATRED, at the beasts before him. Cruel creatures of black and white, their devilish red eyes glaring back at him. He didn't care. They had killed his twin, the only one to ever truly understand him. His best friend and partner lay dead in pieces, his twin torn apart before his eyes, and the monstorous Dune Witch had impaled him on her hand. Others would have seen their life flashing before their eyes before dying. Lucius so no life, only death.
With a roar he focused all his pain, all his hatred, all his sorrow into his cards. Like an explosion, they tore from their holsters, shredding his jacket and shirt, and the beast impaling him. It never even made it to confusion before it's life was snuffed out, nearly two thousand cards swirling around Lucius in a grand display of his power. With a second roar the cards flew forward, slicing the grimm like a hot knife through butter. Whatever resistance they put up meant nothing, his cards either cutting through or going around anything that saught to stop him killing these creatures.
Hundreds of Grimm were slaughtered, many before they could even figth back. Those who charged forward were cut to ribbons, their limbless bodies falling to the ground. Those with ranged attacks met with as much success, their attacks blocked, deflected, or outright destroyed by the vengeful card weilder. Even those that tried to run were given no mercy, hamstrung and left to crawl as they were trampled by their fellows.
Lucius knew only pain and anger. His nose was leaking blood at a worrying pace and his vision was blurry. He wasn't sure if it was from his injuries or because using so many cards at once caused a brain aneurysm. Probably the second, if the burning sensation in his head was a symptom. It didn't matter. He was always ready to die, but if it meant he could kill these monsters, then it was worth the price. They would PAY for what they had done. Not one would escape. NOT ONE!
It was nearly an hour later that Lucius slowly opened the small door of the vault. The front was a massive, fourteen foot thick door that was sealed to keep the population safe. The small door was on the back of the mountain and was only ten feet tall and ten feet wide. Small enough and easy to defend, he had sent Team PIKE to defend it as the larger front gate was protected by Team RROS. In his pain addled mind, he thought little of how the door was ajar despite supposedly being sealed. He thought little of how the inside was in disarray. It wasn't until he turned a corner and witnessed the after effects of Grimm in tight spaces against civilains that realization hit him. So many were dead. So much blood. He couldn't even identify who was dead since everyone was torn to pieces. He limped as quickly as he could further into the vault, searching for someone, anyone, who might still be alive. As he walked farther in, the blood became deeper. He was practically wading in it, the blood of his family, of his friends, everyone he had known growing up. There, that was Miss Bluebelle's cornflorwer colored eyes, staring at him as he walked past. Mister Dorian's body, what was left of it at least, propped up in front of a mirror. He nearly vomited when he saw his mother's signature pink hair, the scalp across from what he guessed was her body. He hated himself for his dry eyes as he walked past her, walked past his father's corpse. His strong hands still holding the hammer he used to defend his family, even though they were no longer connected...
He finally collapsed in the deepest room, the walk to much for his abused body and mind. His team was dead, his family was dead, his mission a failure, and he had no idea as to what happened to Team PIKE. Lucius rolled over and propped himself up against a wall so that he would not drown in the lifesblood of everything he held dear and closed his eyes, uncertain, and honestly, uncaring on if he would ever open them again.
When help finally arrived, they found Lucius Rook with his injuries bound, his fourteen year old sister by his side. She had lived, hiding herself inside of a storage locker while her family was being butchered. Always seemingly unsettling, Casper's lack of emotions saved her while everyone else around her died. The response team called them ghosts as they were taken out of there, loading the pair onto a bullhead to rush them to Atlas for treatment. On her way out, Casper stopped to pick up something that caught her eye. Her brother Corbin's weapon, Luce Spei, lying discarded and battered on the ground. She put it in carry mode and hid it in her dress as she boarded the bullhead, her calm demeanor being attributed to shock at the deaths of her family.