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Opening File: Dark Meat City

Dios Metro City, known more infamously as Dark Meat City, is the city that covers a third of southern California, with it built near Miracle City. The massive city got it's nickname due to the millions of carcasses that were buried over by tons of cement and building the city hall over the result. It's also a highlight to the infamous reputation it has gained for being rotten to the core.

High class are in the center of the city near the city hall while the lower and middle class are practically interchangeable. Due to suspicious legislations done by the current governor, DMC is the only city in America that has the mysterious paramilitary Section Z-7; a sec of highly trained and equipped officers that have successfully guarded the capital against riots and gang violence.

It has gone on record for having the highest crime rate in all of American history, to where there has not been a day in the city without murder or theft for the past 55 years. The main reason is due to hundreds of gangs, weapon and drug trafficking, poverty, and horrific amounts of racism. Due to defunding policies from the current governor, the city lacks a proper police force and prison system for the millions of criminals plaguing its streets.

Oddly, the previous governor of the city petitioned for a dome to be erected around the borders of the city. The government and the GDF, despite being puzzled by such a large request, allowed for the construction, believing any attempt to maintain order in Dark Meat City to be a lost cause, with many of the infiltrators of the Imperium describing it as 'a miniature version of Necromunda.'

A month ago, however, the capital of the state was bombed, resulting in the deaths of over 3,000 people, including the previous governor with his secretary taking office just two weeks later.

Close File

...I am the one who walks behind the dreams of man... Dreams of the lost and of the damned... Dreams of the lost and of the damned...

5 days before the Invasion of Earth

Dark Meat City: Arena Santo

In the colosseum in Dark Meat City, an incredibly muscular luchador with long blue hair, blue eyes, and a heavy beard in a white outfit with crosses all over the zippers and belt. This is Cain McGregor, also known as Jesse Christ, top wrestler in the Lucha Ultima.

"Well, look who's here!" The luchador turned to see an equally muscular luchador, grinning at him. Diablo is a tall, muscular man with tan skin and large bunches of shiny black hair in a red and black mask with horns and an outfit with a studded leather belt. He has numerous tattoos, with flames covering his forearms and two large eyes on his shoulder blades, the skin on his nose is pitch black and his eyeballs are black with yellow irises. This is Jesus Guzman, AKA El Diablo. "If it isn't good Ol' Jesse! Are you worried about tonight's match yet? Cause I'm warning you: I ain't gonna go easy on you!"

Jesse grinned back at El Diablo as he straightened his collar, replying in his natural Spanish accent, "Glad to hear it, Diabolito, cause I won't either."

"I hope you ain't planning on stepping into the ring with all that metal on your fingers." El Diablo crossed his arms, still having that big grin on his face, "I'm not so sure those rings of yours are regulation."

"It wouldn't take much for you to become a regular tecnico." Jesse kept grinning as he patted his fellow luchador on the shoulder, "Since when do you worry about rules, El Diablo? That's almost cute."

A nearby wrestler gawked offended at what Jesse said, "What was that?! Say it again, I dare you!" He was less of a wrestler and more of a skeleton, having a bone thin frame and pitch-black skin that was covered entirely in white, surprisingly clean, bandages, with only a single eye and his mouth being uncovered.

"Show the man some respect, Mummy!" El Diablo silenced the other wrestler, who looked at him confused, "Jesse is one hell of an opponent, and it's an honor to fight him."

In the dressing room where Jesse entered, another brown skinned luchador in a BDSM mask and a speedo, Headache, chuckled to the former as he passed by, "Heh heh, I thought I heard people talking trash in the hallway. El Diablo looks mighty worked up."

"El Diablo is a son of a bitch," Jesse said to him as he took off the top of his outfit, hanging it up on a coat rack, "But he is the best son of a bitch I have ever met."

Another luchador wearing a pink mask, Feliz, came in through the door, "Jesse! Headache! You're on in ten minutes!"

The two nod and left after Jesse pulled off his rings and set them on the desk.

Why are these wrestlers getting attention? Trust me, things are gonna get interesting. But we first need to focus on the leads of the story.

Dark Meat City: Montebello Quarter.

It was a 'regular' day in Dark Meat City. With all the gangs, scumbags, corrupt cops, and perverts on the streets, things were somewhat quiet. But anybody with even half a braincell in DMC would know that it wouldn't last. The place was so corrupted and rotten to the core that its nickname was apt, a place that made even Detroit seem like a nice place to stay and live. Crime rates were at an all-time high after the rift opened, now cults, rapists, pedophiles, mass murderers, and devil worshippers plagued the streets.

In a pizza joint painted in the colors of the Italian flag, next to one of the many pawn shops was an overweight, balding Italian man with a 5 O'clock shadow, wearing beige pants, a white beater, and a pink and green striped flannel, with a golden cross necklace around his neck and gold watch around his wrist. He was talking over the phone with a customer while also reassuring them that there won't be any problems like last time.

"I got it. Two calzones and one pepperoni. No, they'll be no delivery trouble like last time. Grazie mille, your pizzas will be there soon!" He hung up before cursing up a storm at the absence of his employee, "Ivan! Where is that lazy ass slacker?! I am sick of that shit always coming to work late..." He stared cursing in Italian before continuing in English, "Is he gonna be sorry when he gets here..." The owner than notes to himself to change his policy, "No more handout jobs! Kids today are a bunch of deadbeats! Every last one of them!"

Unseen to him was a 23-year-old Ivan Evans, formerly Ebon, sprinting down the road. He had shaggy black hair and a full beard with his skin now having several scars on his body and wore a black shirt and beige pants with red sneakers. The biggest change was the fact that, due to some unknown phenomenon, his black skin was now white as snow. The former gangbanger burst through the door in a panting fit, much to the surprise of the owner.

"Sorry, boss!" Ivan tried to explain to his boss what happened through his pants, "My bus got attacked again and-" He was cut off when a motorcycle helmet was thrown into his arms.

"I don't care! You're twenty minutes late! You think I pay you to sit around with your thumb up your ass?" His boss angerly yelled out to his employee before showing him the boxes he's supposed to deliver, "A customer placed an order, and your two worthless coworkers still haven't come back yet, so grab these pizzas fast and get the hell out of here!"

Grumbling, Ivan just put on the helmet and took the pizza boxes, while yelling to his boss as he walked out the door, "Fucking A, it's not my fault the bus keeps getting jacked! And I couldn't exactly ask for the driver to write an excuse note, either!"

"What did I do to deserve being surrounded by such idiots?!" Ivan heard his boss mutter to himself as he got outside, "I ain't about to get off the Prozac with these fools around!" The former gang banger just ignored him as he got to his delivery bike: An old motorbike showing some wear and tear with a delivery 'basket' resting on the back. He grabbed the knob to open the box, but he started struggling when apparently the thing was jammed.

"Come on, open you stupid piece of..." Ivan muttered to himself before he finally forced the basket open. With that out of the way, he set the boxes in the basket and closed it before checking to make sure his helmet was on tight, "This is bullshit. I ain't ever seen pizza boxes in such crappy shape in my life. Damn thing's just gonna fall apart any second... Just what I need..."

With that out of the way, Ivan got onto his motorbike and took off while hearing his boss yelling to him, "And you better not even think about bringing that bike all dinged up like last time, y'hear?!"

"You're lucky I don't ding up that ugly face of yours!" Ivan retorted at his boss before he sped down the highway. Ivan didn't have this job for a week and already he hated it. And that was not even considering that traffic accident he caused two days ago when he ran a red light... That's what happens when your boss has a 'Free if delivered in less than 30 minutes' policy in a rancid hive like this.

'Okay, I'm off to Flores Street, next to 6th...' Ivan calculated in his head as his helmet showed him where to go thanks to a built-in GPS, 'I sure better not make a wrong turn, or I'm really screwed.'

The street he turned on was like most of the streets in this city; filled with vagrants, gang members, thugs, conmen, and some people just trying to make a living in this hellhole. This was a city overflowing with liars, con artists, thieving kids, corrupt cops, gangs, and a complete lack of common decency.

You think Ivan's being harsh? Buddy, he's sugarcoating it.

Dark Meat City. DMC, as in depression, murder, and crazy-ass motherfuckers. This city makes him wanna puke. It deserves its name; rancid, filthy, and depraved, this city is a cesspool of crime, corruption, rape, murder, drugs, and gang wars. Police are always emptying their guns just so they don't get shanked by some hobo doped up to his eyes on crack, and that's not getting into the fact that the cops are pretty eager to kill people.

All he does is deliver pizzas, get paid, and get the fuck out of there. Rinse and repeat like hell. Don't ask questions, don't get involved, just get away as fast as you can. When it comes to the school of hard knocks, Ivan's probably never gonna graduate. But he ain't complaining. Some of the others just dropped out.

"'If your pizza don't arrive in 30 minutes or less, it's not only is it free, but the pizza boy gets his ass fired too...'" Evans grumbled in his head as he started at the ETA in his visor, '18 minutes, should be able to make it, unless some punk pulls out a gun on me at the next light. Fuck, I hate this job.'

A bunch of hobos fighting over something fell into the street, causing Ivan to swerve out of the way. He turned back to them and yelled out, "Hey, watch your hobo asses!"

Did he mention he hated this place? It's like everything's trying to take you out. His point was made when a bird suddenly swooped down and started clawing at his face, causing Ivan to swat it aside. It tumbled through the air before it smacked into the windshield of a passing car, reducing it to a bloody mess.

"Yeah, that's what you get, you stupid ass bird!" Ivan yelled, speeding off so he doesn't miss the green light. He wishes he was back at his place, drinking some beer in front of the TV, watching wrestling. Instead, he was here with his shitty job, wondering what dirty trick the city was gonna pull on him.

Suddenly, in all the shit in the streets, stood a shining light. It was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life; She was around 5'9, had long black hair, white skin, dazzling blue eyes, gold hoop earrings, and a perfect smile. She wore denim jeans and jacket under a black shirt, and black shoes. How could such a fine flower grow in such a shithole? She looked like an angel who just fell from heaven. She seemed to notice him in the split seconds he noticed her, causing her to giggle and wink.

Ivan was so transfixed on her that he didn't notice the truck rushing towards him.

When he did notice, all he could let out was an "Oh, SHIT!" before he crashed headfirst into the truck. His bike was reduced to scraps as Ivan and the pizza boxes were sent tumbling through the street, causing most of the cars to stop while the drivers and passengers stared in shock. Ivan silently screamed in pain while roiling around the ground, feeling the bruises forming all over his body.

"Wow, man!" A shirtless thug yelled as he ran towards the wreckage along with a homeless man, who wore some jeans, a white shirt, a pink cap, and a dirty flannel, ran into the streets.

"What the..." Ivan muttered as he groaned and got up, before realizing what just happened, "Shit! My pizzas!" He was gonna get them only to see the homeless guy eating them.

"Sweet!" The homeless guy yelled while eating the pieces of pizza in his hands, "They're still hot!"

The former gangbanger growled and managed to stand despite the insane amounts of pain flooding though his veins, glaring intensely at the homeless guy. "Hey, Amigo!" He yelled at the homeless man, who saw him limping towards him, "Gimme those!" The homeless guy ignored him and grabbed the rest of the fallen pieces and calzones and ran off. Ivan swore loudly, before deciding it wasn't worth the trouble and started limping off to the nearest hospital for treatment.

'I'm so fucking fired...' Ivan grumbled in his head as a cop helped him up and lead him to his car, likely getting him to the hospital.

"That fucker ran into me!" He heard the driver yell to a cop who had seen the whole thing but judging by the look on the cop's face, he wasn't convinced. Thank god, he avoided something worse today.

3 hours later

Dark Meat City: Rios Rosas

After Ivan got to the hospital, they treated for some bruises, which they said he was lucky to get as the accident could have been worse. When that was finished, he called his boss and told him what happened. Unsurprisingly, he was fired, after his boss screamed at him so hard that Ivan was half surprised that his vocal cords didn't snap. After that whole fiasco, the former ganger just got on the bus and headed back to his apartment. Thankfully, this time, his bus didn't get jacked by some thugs.

The bus doors opened, showing the dirty sidewalk with a blue beat up sign said, 'Rios Rosas.'

"Home sweet home." Ivan muttered as he tipped the bus driver with a quarter and got off, walking down the sidewalk while hoping he could at least get some peace and quiet until he can try and get another job.

Rios Rosa: A rat infested, decrepit neighborhood ruled by the Madre Suerte gang and other drunks or vagrants, which just so happened to be where he lived. He never held a job for more than three weeks. But Ivan managed to find a new job all the same, especially even since Francis lost his job last week after he brutally assaulted his boss for making fun of his hair.

Oh, yeah. Did he mention that he was living with Francis Stone aka F-Stop or Hotstreak?

After they had escaped the pier, they lost their powers and were forced to work together to survive. They managed to be at the west coast at the time before they were transferred to Dios Metro City, aka Dark Meat City. The two hated each other with a passion but that lightened a few years later, unsurprising, given how living with someone for such an amount of time can change ya.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a tattooed ganger with shaved brown hair and a thin mustache, wearing a whit beater, black pants and black shoes, riding a motorcycle slowly followed him as he walked to his apartment, staring lazily as they strode down the street, side by side. Ivan just did nothing and looked on, fainting disinterest as he just kept walking

But if you don't have size, strength, or skill, your best bet is to just keep your head down, mouth shut, and just keep walking. Ya even think about pulling something or disrespecting these motherfuckers, you'd be lucky just to be shanked by some rando looking for a fix. Don't cause any trouble for anybody and maybe they'll do the same.

Just keep walking and you're almost safe.

The ganger seemed to lose interest and sped off down the street as Ivan looked down to see some rats looking up at him. The Madre Suerte is at war with the Locotes from up north, so bullets are always flying. The streets keep score, and the rats get rid of the bodies. One of the rats with huge red eyes and insanely sharp teeth screeched at him when he got too close. It makes them really aggressive too... Following his motto, Evans just slowly got to his apartment, ignoring the rats and a car full of gangers that slowed down beside him.

"Go show your ugly face somewhere else, asshole!" One of them laughed as he threw an empty can at his head, which missed. The other gangers laughed as they sped off.

Ignoring them, Ivan just breathed through his nose and just kept walking.

After a minute, Ivan finally made it. Hotel Santa Teresa, a 23-story building that looked insanely old even though it was made all those years ago, like Purgatory with cable and beds. He's only lived here for four years but it feels like forever. Ignoring the flaming car and the yells and gunshots from the gangs that were fighting on, Ivan just got through the front door and trudged up to his apartment.

Hotel Santa Teresa: Room 777

"This is Reverend Savage, coming to you live from El Santo arena!" A gray-haired anchorman wearing a blue luchador mask spoke as he announced the fight behind him, "El Diablo and the Black Mummy are out for blood and ready for a rematch against-"

The TV showed the two first before showing Jesse in a blue speedo, blue boots and wristbands, and a fake crown of thorns, revealing the white cross tattoo. Beside him is a dark-skinned man wearing a BDSM mask and outfit.

"-Jesse Christ, the current titleholder, and Headache, the vicious powerhouse!"

Jesse then leaped straight at El Diablo in the ring, who look as eager as a child in a candy store.

"And here we go! Jesse opens up the hostilities with a magnificent flying knee drop! He follows up with a clothesline on the Black Mummy, whose tongue is lolling spectacularly- No, wait! That's not his tongue! It's spraying blood!"

"Yeah, baby!" A 23-year-old Francis Stone yells as he stuffs his face with some chips while watching the wrestling match. His red hair with blonde streaks had grown past his shoulders and he'd grown his beard out, he kept his muscular build due to his former job as construction worker. Francis was wearing a red wife beater and black warm up pants with grey socks.

"And now a back suplex! HA HA! What a brutal beating, ladies and gentlemen!" Reverend Savage laughed on screen as the fight continued with the crowd cheering on in the background.

"Yo, Francis! I'm back!" He heard Ivan call out as he entered their apartment. It was okay looking for Dark Meat City's standards, but it had a lotta junk food wrapping, empty bags, and empty cans all over. It was livable, though.

"Dude, you got back just in time!" Francis called out to Ivan from his chair, not looking as the latter entered, "The Lucha Ultima just started!"

"And now El Diablo steps into the ring!"

Ivan just groaned as he put a hand to his head, still groaning in pain from the accident, "The Lucha Ultima is already going on in my head!"

Francis looked at him and blinked in surprise when he saw the state of his vitriolic friend, "Jesus, dude! What the fuck happened to you?" Ivan was bleeding from his forehead, he had bandages on his arms and chest, and his shirt and jacket were in tatters. That and Ivan seemed more than a little disoriented.

"I lost my job is what happened!" Ivan retorted to his roommate, angerly, "Got hit by some big ass truck, my bike's trashed and I'm a mess! People drive like assholes in this shitty city!" The former gangbanger rubbed his eyes for a second before calming down and asking Francis, "Anyway, did you feed the roaches?"

"Huh?" Francis blinked in confusion before realizing what he meant, "No, but- Look, isn't there enough shit in the floor for them to eat?"

"Naw, man! You can't just feed 'em anything! They'll get sick!"

Francis just rolled his eyes and grumbled as he continued to watch the wrestling match. You let two roaches in and suddenly not only do they breed like the plague but for some reason, Ivan grew attached to them. Then again, maybe they imprinted on him.

"'Feed the roaches...' Pfft..." Francis mocked and made sound of annoyance before he saw one of the roaches staring right at him. He sweated for a second as he swore, he felt a lot of hate coming from it.

"Hey! Don'tchoo look at me like that, Roach!" Francis snapped at the roach, feeling a little silly for doing so, but this was coming from a guy who used to have the ability to control fire, "You're just making things worse for you and your pals."

"Fucking great!" He heard Ivan yell sarcastically. He saw him walk out of the bathroom, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a pair of white warm up pants with two red stripes running down each leg and a towel to his head, "No hot water!" Ivan paused for a second before sighing loudly, "I should stop complaining. It's a miracle we still have electricity."

Evans calmed down enough to get a box of cereal from the cupboards before he turned to his roommate, "Look, Francis, we gotta figure something out. We both lost our jobs and rent's two months late, so we gotta bring in some cash or we're screwed!"

"Well, we could rob some gas stations." Stone shrugged apathetically and continued watching the match.

Ivan rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "Well, this is Dark Meat City. Police are so corrupt that they'll only respond when bribed." He then threw some cereal to the floor and said, "Eat up, fellas!" Dozens of roaches then converged onto the fallen cereal, devouring all of it as the two watched.

"Those damn things give me the creeps!" Francis shivered in disgust, before asking his roommate, "Hey, did you know roaches symbolize pessimism and unhappiness and all sorts of crap?"

Ivan replied after chomping on some cereal that was 2 days expired, "Yeah, so what?"

"So, yours are taking up more and more room in the apartment?" Francis questioned before scoffing in disgust as he leaned back in his recliner, "God, no wonder our lives suck so hard!"

Evans shrugged before he saw the match, "Aw shit, Jesse Christ won again!" Francis let out a "HA!" and stuck out a hand to which a grumbling Ivan placed a twenty-dollar bill.

4 hours later...

It was the middle of the night in Dark Meat City, some sleeping, some not. It's that kind of city. Because he lost the coin flip, Ivan was forced to sleep on the couch while Francis got the bed. Suddenly, Ivan began stirring, then tossing and turning before he catapulted up, screaming his head off. Ivan panted before he muttered to himself, "Goddamn... I need some air."

He got up from the couch and walked to the window before opening it. He took some deep breaths; the air was warm despite it being December and the machines in the walls that surround DMC fumigate the air like insanity.

"Jesus Christ man, what was with the screaming?" He saw Francis walk into the room, looking very annoyed at being woken up this late, "Ya seen a ghost or something?"

"Nothing, just some fucking nightmares." Ivan grumbled as he tried to make his roommate to go back to bed, "I was half asleep. Go to bed, I'll be fine." Francis just rolled his eyes and went back to bed while Ivan got back onto the couch.

The nightmare was him in the ruins of Dark Meat City, flames choking the air as Francis roared at something that had countless tentacles and limbs, gangers of all kinds firing their guns at hordes of transforming people, and him facing off against two giants: one of stone and one of flesh. Whatever the hell it meant, Ivan didn't have a hot fuck of an idea.

Ivan just mumbled on as he laid down on the couch, trying to get some sleep.

4 Hours later... 12:30PM

It was morning, the gangs were out, the parties started, the shops opened, and the people slowly got up. And a dark furred anthropomorphic bat walked down the sidewalk, wearing a blue shirt and beige shorts, while eating a hot dog.

This is Willy Pipistrelli, Ivan and Francis' guy to call when the two lose their jobs. Which Francis did last night when the Lucha Ultimate match was done.

"Hey, Gizmo!" A whit beater and gold chain wearing, tattooed thugs, named Chavez, called to him while waving his pistol, "Stay out of the sun!"

Another thug laughed along with him, "Yeah, go back to Chinatown, asshole!"

Willy just ignored them while rolling his eyes. Dark Meat City was the world capital of discrimination, then again, 3/4ths of everybody in Dark Meat City are criminals and monsters here so not that it was unwarranted. That unfortunately included him due to him being a criminal informant, though he didn't take any sides with the gangs.

Thankfully, he got the two a job that really easy and pays really well.

Hotel Santa Teresa: Room 777

Back in the two's apartment, Ivan groaned as he got up from the couch, feeling worse than before, "Ah, I feel like I ain't slept all night..." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Your head feeling any better?" Francis asked, who was now wearing a black DMC Fuego's jersey and beige pants standing by the couch.

The former gangbanger growled while holding his head, "Hell, no! It's feeling worse!"

"Well, if it feels so bad, then go to the fucking doctor!" Stone retorts as he walks to the kitchen and gets a bottle of Nuka-Cola from the fridge, "You might have a concussion!"

"I thought you were afraid of doctors and hospitals?"

"I am, but it's called common sense, Ivan. Have some once in a while. Here, this'll help." Francis gives Ivan the spaceship-shaped bottle, who downs it in one go before someone knocked on the door.

"Aw, hell." He groaned again, as the noise irritated his headache, "Who's at the door?"

Francis went to the door and checked through the peephole, before groaning out, remembering who he called last night, "It's Willy."

XXX

"Come on, guys!" Willy called, hoping they'd hear through the door.

Suddenly, the door to his right opened to reveal a pale, rotund, bald man wearing shorts with a cobra coiled around his waist and a swastika tattooed on his left breast. And boy, did he look pissed.

"Hey, asshole!" The disgusting man growled at Willy, "What's with all the racket!?"

The anthropomorphic bat raised his arms and stuttered, "It's nothing, buddy. I'm just-"

"Listen, Bat-shit! I don't give a fuck! You're pissing me and my snake off!" He interrupted him with his snake that looked ready to strike, hissing and baring its fangs while its hood flared out.

Before he could do anything to the scared looking Willy, the door opened to an annoyed looking Francis, "Relax, Snake, he's with me. Now, fuck off." Snake growled but relented as he slinked back into his apartment.

"Geez, took ya long enough!" Willy exclaimed as he got into the two's apartment with Francis closing the door behind him, "What were you two zombies doing? It's past noon!"

The two looked thoroughly annoyed, with Francis deadpanning, "You're welcome, Will."

"God, it's like an oven in here!" The bat complained, feeling the heat of their apartment hit him like a freight train, wiping the sweat off of his head, "No wonder you guys are so sluggish!"

"Yo, don't even get me started," Ivan groaned as he put his hands to his face, his headache intensifying to the point where his head was pounding like a heart, "I got this killer headache."

"A headache?" Willy put a hand to his chin, thinking about what that could mean, "Be careful, that could be a brain tumor or something serious shit." He then turned to Francis, curious as to what happened, "What happened to Ivan? He looks like a shit took a shit."

"His dumb ass got into a car accident." Francis summarized as he didn't want to explain the situation.

"Anyway, I didn't come here to play doctor," Willy started with the job that he found for the two, "I got you guys another job! It's simple and the pay's great! All you gotta do is deliver some crates to Palm Hills. It's a night job, a total cakewalk!"

"One; I'm gonna need to steal a car to get to Palm Hill," Francis replied before trailing off and asking, "And two; what're in those crates?"

"Hell, if I know." The anthropomorphic bat shrugged, "There's Russian writing on them."

"Russian?!" The red-haired man said incredulously, shaking his head with his hands up, "No fucking thanks!"

Before Willy could say anything else, the TV showed an announcement from the Governor; a tall, beautiful Caucasian woman with long red hair, sapphire blue eyes, wearing a red blouse under a blue jacket that had a USA pin on the left, and red highheels.

"Look at this bitch!" Willy groaned as he sat down on the couch beside Ivan, "I cannot fucking stand this new governor!"

Who he was taking about was Governor of California, Tirana Hoffman. The newly elected governor after the last one, Gore W. Tex was killed in the bombing of the capital. She vowed to clean up Dark Meat City as a bureaucrat but fell short with the bombing of the capital. So, understandably, she was now focused on the 'terrorists' that attacked the capital than the actual city needs.

"She says she's gonna wipe out terrorism from the state all by herself!" Willy laughs in incredulousness, as he sets down his hot dog on the couch, "What a bitch!"

"Dude, you might wanna watch your hot dog," Ivan tried to say but his head still hurt too much.

"Seriously, though, bombing the capital." The bat said sincerely, not noticing a vent shuttering, "Damn, that's gonna start some shit across the city."

Suddenly, the vent burst, revealing hundreds of cockroaches flowing towards Willy's hot dog. They swarmed the consumable, devouring it in seconds before they dispersed, retreating into the vents before the three could react.

"MY HOT DOG!" Willy exclaimed, seeing that only the napkin was left before yelling to the two, "Seriously, I don't know how you two can stand to live with all these goddamn bugs! I'd go nuts!"

Ivan then grabbed his head, feeling the pain increase, as if it was pounding like a heartbeat against his skull.

"Guys... I don't feel so good... My head's gonna explode." The former gangbanger groaned as he felt like his head was pounding, "This ain't normal... I'm gonna go see a doctor right now."

"Good idea. Go get checked out, you'll feel better." Francis nodded, before suggesting, "Why don't we hook up at Pipo's in a couple hours? We'll get some diner and plan out whatever comes next."

Ivan groaned out and waved off in agreement, "Yeah, sure... If I'm still alive..." With a grunt, Ivan got up from the couch, walked out of the apartment with a disoriented limp, and slammed the door shut, leaving Francis and Willy alone.

"You shouldn't eat Mexican food." Willy said to Francis after a moment of silence when Ivan left, "That shit'll turn your innards into a gas chamber."

"Be quiet, batshit."

Rios Rosas

Ivan had gotten dressed in a black shirt, Demin jeans, and red sneakers with a leather jacket to appear like he serious, not wanting to attract attention before he got to the doc's. Last thing he needed was some rando thinking he was easy prey while he could barely think straight from the pain.

So, far everything was okay when Ivan got to the bus station. La Madre are being friendly with the La Raza Azteca, sighed a truce or something, so he got outta there as quick as he could. The reason he was traveling so far for a doctor was because Rios Rosa literally had nothing other than the hotels and gangs. The last mini market closed because they'd resorted to drug trafficking to keep their doors open, but when they got busted by the cops, they shut down.

A ghetto surrounded the hotel for 3 miles in every direction so Ivan takes the bus to get somewhere.

The problem with the bus is that you gotta deal with all the locos, and there ain't no escaping either, the whole damn city is full of them. Hell, just the other day, this dude on the news gave his baby a bath by sticking it into the washing machine. When he realized what he'd done, he killed off the rest of his family with a shovel to keep them quiet. You really gotta be out of your fucking mind to do something like that.

The truth is Ivan hates the bus with a passion, but he read that more people get shot walking, so his ass takes the bus. Don't think for a second that what he reads is some tabloid journalism crap, DMC is just. That. Bad. And it will eat you alive. The only question is when. He and Francis talked about leaving it one day, but they ain't even fooling themselves. They've got no money, no car, no insurance, just the roaches and the bus. Just like the rest of the lower and middle class of DMC, no dreams, no hope, no future.

Nobody ain't got a shadow of a prayer.

Speaking of shadows, he saw a priest walk by on the sidewalk, but his shadow was... off...

It had no humanoid shape, more like a man sized... thing with tendrils and constantly shifting, at one point gaining a head with two extensions on the head that looked like the cowl of Batman, almost ghost-like and misty, wriggling and reforming in discordant patterns. The shadow bent, twisted, folded, and deformed, liquescently flowing and reshaping.

Ivan rubbed his eyes for a second before looking back out the window. Was he hallucinating or-

"Monte-Bello! End of the line!" The bus driver ripped Ivan out of his thoughts. The former gangbanger grumbled as he got up from his seat and out to the hot streets of Dark Meat City.

'Why do bus drivers have to yell like that? My head feels like a pressure cooker!' He groaned mentally, before looking around for the doctor's office, 'Okay, now where's that doctor's office, again?'

Suddenly, he looked down at a businessman's shadow and saw that it was as bizarre as the priest's shadow; more resembling a massive horned and limbed serpent that slithered across the ground. Ivan took several deep breathes as he tried to disappear into the crowded sidewalk, unaware that the businessman looked at him suspiciously before shrugging it off, thinking the guy was on drugs.

'Am I going crazy?' He thought as he tried to calm down and get an answer, 'Was Willy right? Do I have a brain tumor or something? Or one of those diseases that eats brains cells? Is my brain gonna turn to mush and start leaking out of my nose and ears?! God fucking damnit, where's that doctor's office?!'

He walked past a bald dark-skinned officer with a horseshoe mustache and sunglasses, who happened to have a weird shadow like the priest and businessman. This one was more like a large demon with gaping thick fangs and a head with curved horns, a distended gut, thick arms and legs, and a long scorpion tail that lashed at the air.

Ivan drew in another breath, sharply before he found the doctor's office and rushed in, pushing a fat guy in a sombrero and whit beater who yelled at him for cutting in line. The officer looked at Ivan strangely but shrugged, muttering, "Fucking junkies."

Little did Ivan Evans or anyone else know, that his headache and this visit to the doctor would lead him and everyone else in Dark Meat City to the dark and twisted maze that is the fate of this city.

Office of Dr. Bogota

Ivan managed to get to talk to the doctor in his oddly unlit office, with the window shades down. He was a Hispanic doctor wearing sunglasses, a Hawaiian shirt under his lab coat and brown pants with white shoes. This is Doctor Alphonse Bogota.

"A brain tumor?" The doctor replied to Ivan's inquiry while twirling a pencil between his fingers in thought.

"Um, yeah," Ivan responded, "That's what I'm afraid of, Doc." The pain had gone down but he was still feeling a little tipsy.

"Does your family have a history of brain tumors?" Doctor Bogota asked about this, if it did than it could make his job simple.

"No, I don't think so. I mean- I dunno..." Ivan then tried to explain the situation to the doctor, "I think it's a tumor or concussion- or something like that, cause I've been having these crazy hallucinations."

"Could you be more specific? Exactly what kind of hallucinations are you experiencing?" The doctor folded his fingers together and leaned on them, hoping it is not what he thought it was, "Do you see colored points of light? Flashing lines? Do you hear voices?"

Ivan shakes his head, his hands up and trying to explain what he meant, "No, nothing like that, doc! I- Well, some people just have funny looking shadows... How can I describe them? They look like monsters!"

"Monsters?" The doctor asked with his pencil in his mouth, confused as to what he meant.

"Yeah, y'know, the long pointy tentacles or horns?" Ivan tried his best to explain, but was clearly not having any success as the d

"As pointed as this conversation we're having?" Bogota retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not that pointed..." Ivan grumbled while crossing his arms.

The doctor hummed in thought for a second before asking, "Do you take drugs? Have you smoked marijuana or crack recently?"

"No, I don't take drugs. Actually, this started after I got into an accident, yesterday." Ivan explained before awkwardly finishing, "I was wearing a helmet..."

"Have you been feeling stressed lately?" The doctor put his hand to his chin, with his pencil held in his index finger.

"Uh, yeah... A little. I didn't sleep too good last night..."

The doctor got up from his desk, "Well, let's take a look at you, shall we?" Ivan merely took a standard examination; heartbeat, breathing, sight, throat check, reflexes, everything needed for a physical. Afterwards, the doctor just remained silent before sitting back at his desk and saying, "I see nothing out of the ordinary... I'm sure it's all in your head. Your mind is simply playing tricks on you."

"Huh?" Evans raised an eyebrow at the response from the doctor, "What do you mean?"

"When a person is under too much pressure, the body reacts." Doctor Bogota explained to his visitor, "It sends out warning signs."

"What about my hallucinations?"

"It's the same thing. Stress and fatigue are clearly responsible for the misinterpretations of reality from which you suffer." The doctor starts seriously before letting out a jovial chuckle, "In short, it's nothing serious! Go home and get some rest. Alternate between taking aspirin and acetaminophen for the rest few and you'll be back on your feet in no time! And also, there's no charge this time!"

Ivan just let out a breath. He wasn't going crazy! He just needs some meds and he'll be good to go.

"I feel better already!" Ivan lets out relieved laugh as he gets up from his chair, "Thanks, Doc! You're a lifesaver!"

"You're welcome, Ivan!" The doctor chuckled, but exactly when Ivan let, he stopped dead before grabbing the phone from a pink decorative rotary phone and dialed in a number. In truth, he did find something odd about Ivan; if he could see their shadows, their plans could go utterly awry! Hopefully, that lie would convince him otherwise, but he cannot take the chance!

Someone picked up and asked what's going on before he explained the situation. The voice on the other side paused before they asked if he heard him right.

"Yes, you heard me right!" Doctor Bogota replied, his sunglasses showing another odd shadow, this one of something long and lean with syringe-like fingers, "He sees our shadows! No doubt about it!" The voice asked how he could let this happen. "I do not know how this could have happened! What I do know is that his powers may begin to awaken! If we do not act, he could overturn our plan!" The voice sighed and asked where he was.

"He just left..."

Cross Street

Ivan had just left the doc's and headed to Pipo's to meet Francis for some food. To tell the truth, he was relieved as hell that the weird shadows were just his head playing tricks on him, but he didn't feel that stressed in the last few months. But who knows? The doc could have just meant that there was pressure on his brain or something.

After a few minutes of pondering, he managed to get to Pipo's; a small restaurant just the corner off one of the many pawn shops in Dark Meat City. He saw Francis leaning against the wall just by the door to the restaurant. He was wearing a red shirt, hazel pants, grey sneakers, and a grey checkered flannel.

"Well? What'd the doc say?" He asked when he noticed Ivan coming.

"Ah, it's nothing serious! Too much stress and fatigue!" Evans waved off, "Just need some R&R and I'll be good. To tell the truth, I feel better already!"

Suddenly, a very attractive woman with blonde hair, a pink tank top, short shorts with pink heart designs on back pockets, a cowboy hat and boots, walked down the sidewalk through them. She looked back at the two and blew a kiss. Ivan made a catching motion, before he snaps his fingers and points a finger gun at her while winking. She giggled and turned back at the sidewalk.

He smirked before he noticed her shadow; another odd one. This one was more normal as it resembled a shapely woman with horns on the head, wings on her back, and a long scorpion tail at the waist.

'Don't panic, Ivan! It's just the fatigue...' Ivan breathed in through his nose to try to keep himself calm despite the fact that the woman was already away from the two, 'Maybe it's just a hallucination, but damn, it feels real.'

Confused, Francis looked to where he was looking and whistled at the woman, "Damn, Ivan, you got good taste."

"Yeah... That's it."

Ivan went with it before the duo went inside the restaurant; It was thankfully empty except for the employees, the head chef being a rotund Mexican man with a very patchy beard in a chef's uniform, asking his two customers, "Okay, boys, what'll it be?"

"We'll have two 'Locos' meals and two ice cold bottles of Nuka-Cola, Pipo." Francis asked as he presented the chef with the appropriate amount of money.

"All right, coming right up." Pipo said before he turned and bellowed out to his assistant in the kitchen, "MARSHALL, GET YOUR LAZY ASS OFF THAT SMARTPHONE AND GET BACK TO WORK! WE GOT AN ORDER FOR TWO LOCOS!"

"WHATEVER!" A male voice with a Brooklyn accent yelled back, as the sound of sizzling and metal scrapping against the grill rang from the kitchen.

"Anyway, I actually got something to show; just got a new shipment of a new Nuka-Cola flavor." Pipo replied as he put two Nuka-Cola bottles on the counter, the only difference being that the liquid was a light blue and glowing a pale baleful light, "Say hello to Nuka-Cola Quantum! Twice the calories, twice the carbohydrates, twice the caffeine and twice the taste!"

The two looked at each other and shrugged, before Francis replied, "Fine. Replace our drinks with two bottles of Nuka Cola Quantum!" He gave a chuckling Pipo money for the two bottles, opened them with a bottle opener, and gave one to Ivan.

"To the nonexistent future." Francis held up his bottle for a toast.

"To the nonexistent future." Ivan repeated as the two toasted and drank.

The taste was as good as they could expect from Nuka-Cola but the drink had a little something more than all the flavors of Nuka-Cola. After a few minutes, they finished their meals and drinks.

"Pretty good." Francis complimented, "How much for two to go?"

"10 dollars." Pipo replied without looking up.

"10 dollars?! What happened to 1 dollar?!" Francis complained to the owner.

"It's a higher quality drink! Sue me!"

Francis just sighed and gave Pipo two 5s and the latter gave the former two more bottles of the glowing soda. The duo thanked Pipo for the meal and headed off, with the Quantum bottle in a plastic bag.

Unseen to them, three men in black suits and fedoras were following them; the first being a very skinny man with a long face, rectangular chin, and light brown hair in a mullet, the second more muscular and had a square-shaped face with a lit cigarette in his mouth, and the third looking lean and somewhat unassuming. These three are Agent Randall 'Randy' Crocodile, Martin Harper, and Jack Hansen respectively.

At first, the duo didn't notice but after a while, Ivan was the first two notice, blinking as he did when he saw the trio walking down the same street as them.

"Yo, Frank." He nudged his friend in the chest with his elbow, getting his attention.

"What?"

"Do those MIB looking motherfuckers seem like they're following us?" Ivan pointed to the three behind them.

Francis looked and, sure enough, three men in black suits were on the sidewalk. But they weren't following them, one was just smoking, another was just tying his shoes, and the one with a long face was just looking creepy.

"Yeah, but they're just doing their thing." Francis shrugged as he drank the last sip from his open Quantum bottle before setting it down on the sidewalk. Ivan wasn't convinced, turning back to see the trio walking towards them.

"Hey, go down that alley." He motioned to an alley two feet away.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it!" Ivan whispered harshly, his worries getting to him as he stared at the three.

Francis rolled his eyes but complied as they both turned down the alley, out of sight from the trio. After getting a few feet down from the sideway, the both of them looked to see what would happen. The three men simply walked away them, not saying a word or even looking at them.

Francis glared at Ivan, annoyed at the latter's paranoia, "There! Ya happy, Mr. Paranoid? I swear, after the accident, you've been jumpy like a fucking-"

His words died when he saw Hansen peek behind the corner, slinking back when he saw that they noticed him.

"Still think I'm Mr. Paranoid?" Ivan quietly shot back, moving backwards down the alley.

The two slowly walked down the alley while the trio of MIBs followed silently. Ivan looked behind, confirming they were still there. He turned back and whispered to Francis, "Walk faster and turn left when I tell you."

The red haired man just grumbled but stayed silent as they got close to another alley corner. Both were silent as they got just inches from the corner of the next alley before Ivan suddenly yelled, "NOW!"

Abruptly, they both sprinted down the alley.

Harper's eyes widened as he almost chomped on his cigarette, exhaling smoke through his nose before ordering the other two, "Don't let them escape!" Crocodile and Hansen dashed toward the duo in a sprint with Hansen trailing behind. Feet stamping against the concrete as the three chased the pair through the alleys, trying to avoid the garbage around on the ground.

Francis looked back as he was running, seeing the three sprinting behind them, "Fuck! Dude, they're right behind us!"

"Shit! What the hell do they want?" Ivan swore out loud.

Suddenly, a grey cat with black stripes came out of nowhere, chasing some of the odd rats, causing Hansen and Harper to trip and fall face-first into loads of trash while the cat and rats went flying. Agent Crocodile leaped over their fallen bodies and continued the chase, causing his hat to fly off.

"Hold it right there!" Randy yelled as he pulled out a Glock-19 with a silencer labeled 'Silent Death' and aimed it at them.

"SHIT!" Francis almost yelped as he sprinted faster down the street, "Ivan, he's got a gun!"

Quickly, Ivan checked behind him, "Fuck! This way!" The two dove down into the next alley with Agent Crocodile in hot pursuit, firing three shots at them that missed and hit the wall instead.

"Pathetic! You think running will save you?" He yelled at them as he quickly reached the corner they turned around, "You'll just exhaust yourselves!"

"Yeah?" He heard Ivan from around the corner, "Well, here's something that'll give ya the runs!"

As Agent Crocodile turned around the corner, he had 2 seconds to see Ivan holding a trash can before his vision was flooded by garbage bags, empty cans, liquor bottles, milk cartons, coffee cups, wrappers, and banana peels. In his obscured perception, his foot laid on an empty Nuka-Cola can. The can rolled under his foot, causing him to lose his balance as he kept running. When his eyes were cleared of trash, the agent saw that he was running straight towards a wall. He crashed face-first into the brick wall, breaking his nose.

He slid down the wall and onto the ground. He shook off the pain and grabbed the pistol he dropped when he slammed into the wall, only for Ivan to kick him hard in the face before he could shoot, breaking his nose even further.

As Agent Crocodile writhed on the ground in pain, Ivan yelled to his friend, "Let's get outta here!"

"You bastard..." He swiveled around to see Crocodile, blood coating his mouth, grabbing his gun and aiming it at Francis, "You're dead! Say your prayers!" Before he shot at him, Francis quickly ripped off a nearby manhole cover and lifted it up. Each of Crocodile's shots reflected off of the thick metal object, flying into the ground, walls, and one of the trash cans. The agent kept furiously pulling the trigger until his gun ran out of bullets.

"Aw, f-" Agent Crocodile's curse, while holding his profusely bleeding nose, was cut off when Ivan hit him over the head with an abandoned wooden blank. He was thrown to the ground, managing to look up before he saw Francis readying the manhole cover for a swing.

"And say down!" The red haired man yelled, swinging the metal cover upside Crocodile's head. The agent keeled over, though not dead, as they two panted from exertion.

"Let's go before his friends get here." Ivan told his friend who nodded. The two then sprinted off to wherever just before Francis abruptly asked a weird question.

"Did you grab his gun?"

"No! This isn't GTA V!" Ivan responded incredulously, still sprinting away from the fallen agent.

"Man, did you see how we beat his ass? We're the kings of the city, mutafukaz!" Francis cheered with his arms in the air, Ivan doing the same as the two sped to somewhere safe.

The two were long gone when Crocodile regained consciousness and the two other agents came around the corner, the latter two being covered in trash, filth, and piss. They didn't see the two they were chasing, but they found Agent Crocodile on the ground, beaten and bloodied while also covered in trash.

"Jesus, Randall." Harper helped his partner to his feet, "The hell they'd do to you?"

Crocodile just grumbled as he wiped the filth off of his suit, "They got me good. Got away. Call Bruce, we gotta get them before they become too much of a problem." The two helped the skinny agent to his feet as they got back to their car.

Santa Muerte Park

a hour later

After an hour of running, the two managed to get to a park and bumped into Willy, who said he wanted to hang out. They just shrugged and allowed him to come with as they sat down on a hill. Night had fallen, so they were staring up at a starless sky. The sky that covered DMC usually had an orange tint during the nighttime, due to the emissions or some shit, he didn't know.

Everyone just stared at the sky for what felt like hours before Francis started up, "What do ya think those guys wanted from us?"

"To kill you two, obviously!" Willy exclaimed, though not surprised given the crime rate of DMC, "This whole damn city is nuts, I tell ya!"

"Again, what could they want?" Francis repeated himself, as much as he hated to do it, "Dude, did you see their clothes? Those guys didn't look like dealers to me."

"Yeah, they looked like hitmen." Ivan added his two cents.

"Well, let's hope they're looking for someone else."

Ivan deadpanned at Francis, "Yeah, they mistook a guy with red hair and yellow streaks for-" He cut himself off when he thought about it for a second, "Never mind, you're probably right." They were quiet after that, staring up until Ivan saw a shooting star in the sky.

"Hey, a shooting star." He observed, nudging Willy and pointing up to the sky, "Do you see it?"

"No, where?" Francis squinted his eyes while looking out for the star.

"Uh, in the sky." Willy deadpanned, "Where else, dumbass?"

"Fuck you too." The red haired man retorted, "I just didn't see it. The skies always covered in clouds." There was another shooting star which they all saw, causing Francis to say, "Oh, there's another one. I guess we make a wish or something."

"What would you wish for, Ivan?" Willy asked, looking down from the sky.

The former gangbanger was quiet for a second before answering, "I don't know. I Just wanna be a somebody again. You know; get outta the ghettos and... actually be a guy who's worth something. Not be a loser anymore."

Francis and Willy looked at each other, the former nodded and the latter said, "Yeah, that's a pretty good wish."

Oh, Ivan. Be careful what you wish for.

Rios Rosa

After saying bye to Willy, the two then stole a bunch of pizzas and calzones from Ivan's old boss, who reacted by screaming his lungs out and trying to shot them with his 10 gauge Remington. They managed to sprint 8 blocks to Rios Rosa with the fat Italian running out of steam after just one. The two were walking down the empty streets of Rios Rosa in silence, Ivan just having his hands in his coat pockets and Francis holding the pizza boxes.

"So, do ya feel better?" Francis abruptly asked, breaking the silence the two had after they escaped Ivan's old boss.

"Yeah, actually." Ivan responded before chuckling, "Ya know, this afternoon I kept having hallucinations; seeing these freaky ass shadows, one of them looked like freaking Batman!"

"Aw, shit!" The duo laughed for a second before Francis then went straight to the point, "Seriously though, we still need to find us some cash. First thing tomorrow, we're going through some want ads, cause it's coming down to the wire and we can't lose our apartment."

"I know-" Ivan paused when he saw a gang on the other side of the road and then let his face sink into a frown, "Oh, no. Not them."

It was Chavez, a shaved man with a very thin mustache and earrings. He wore a whit beater, two gold chains around his neck, one with a christen cross, a pair of Demin jeans with a belt, and grey shoes.

He grinned sadistically at the two walking down the streets, "Hey hey, fellas, look who we have here!"

Him and his gang kept shooting insults at them, but thankfully they ignored them and just kept their mouths shut as they slowly got back to the hotel. Don't get anyone wrong; if they had their powers back, these guys would be stains on the pavement. But since they didn't, they just had to keep their heads down and their mouths shut.

"Heh heh, suckas..." Chavez chuckled to himself, thinking that they were weaklings, "Those two gotta be maricons... You see the clown-ass hair the red one has?"

Suddenly, one of those red eyed rats snuck to his feet when he was speaking and let out an ear-piercing screech. Chavez and the rest of his gang jumped before the former had an angry face.

"Puta de..." He muttered in Spanish, pulling out his gun from his belt and shooting the rat 7 times. He kept pulling the trigger, but it was clicking instead of shooting, so he reloaded and shot at the already dead rat 7 more times.

"HA! Y'all ain't so tough now, ya fucking rat!" Chavez laughed as he stomped the bloody mess that was left of the rat with his foot, pulping it until it was just a bloody stain, "Try and surprise me now!"

"Yo, Chavez," A larger thug with a bandana, sunglasses, and a horseshoe mustache asked his 'friend', remaining calm but couldn't completely hide the pain in his voice, "You just shot me in the foot."

The shaved thug looked down and saw the bleeding hole in the guy's foot. He just glared at him, apathetically, "Good. I never liked yo damn shoes, anyway."

Hotel Santa Teresa: Room 777

Ivan and Francis got back up to their apartment, thankfully not upsetting the Nazi, before Ivan turned on the TV to see the usual middle aged man with a square-shaped head, wearing a blue suit and yellow striped tie. This was Joey Hankmen, top anchorman of DMC News.

"Today, the Governor stood before the City Council and declared that she was determined to root out any terrorists in DMC." The anchorman started his report, "After last month's attack on the Capital, the Governor has activated and deployed the controversial Section Z-7 to place the city under martial law, affective in 3 days."

It then showed Governor Hoffman, standing at a podium, "Any citizens that chooses to hide or provide aid to terrorists in any way will become our enemy, and will be dealt with accordingly."

By her was a weird-looking man; he was bald and had grey skin that seemed like rock. Other than that, he didn't seem that out of the norm, as he simply wore a black suit. The two were bored of this so they changed it to Lucha Ultima, while Francis opened up the pizza boxes. Today was El Tigre and Feliz vs El Diablo and Becquerel Boy!

Outside

(The Toxic Avenger- Under Siege)

Marco just minded his own business, riding down Rios Rosas on his motorcycle. He passed down Hotel Saint Teresa before he heard, "10-4 in sight."

He grew suspicious and backed up to the alleyway where he heard the voice. Looking down the street with narrowed eyes, he saw several men with white faces hiding in the shadows, some seemingly armed. Letting out a breath through his nostrils, he pulled out a gun. Marco was shot before he could even aim.

His body fell to the ground and his bike collapsed on him, while the perpetrator of the kill simply stood completely still.

Room 777

Suddenly, while they were watching El Diablo do the Sun God Slam on Feliz, the TV suddenly buzzed, "The hall, three on the roof."

Ivan blinked while eating the last slice of pizza, only for the TV to buzz again with "Neutralize suspect."

The former gangbanger got up and grumbled, "What the-" He walked up to the TV and started banging on it while adjusting the antenna, "This damn thing is picking up the whole city!"

Their TV was from the 80s, but Francis had modified it so that it'll sync with the airwaves. But, due to its old age, he had to replace certain parts with new parts, so as a side effect, the TV constantly picked up random signals from around the city.

Which made it weird when it picked up the drunken girl calling her addict brothers to say she hated them.

Back outside, the perpetrators were a group of incredibly large men wearing black paramilitary uniforms with beige gloves and ammo pouches, but their most striking features were the round, perfectly plain white masks with two small holes for the eyes, topped with the cylindrical helmets they adored on their heads.

The leader of the group motioned for them to move up. They jogged to the entrance, over Marco's body, and quietly opened it as to not disturb any of the residents before entering the lobby and ascending the stairs to the floor where their targets were.

Room 777

Ivan started banging the television more to stop the noise before Francis got up from his chair, hearing the chatter coming from the speakers.

"Wait, stop, stop. Is that police chatter?" He asked Ivan while stopping him, the duo kneeling down to listen in.

"Operation Shadowtag is a go! Move! Move! Move!" The two looked at each other confused as Ivan asked, "What the hell is Operation Shadowtag?" Francis shrugged with a confused expression.

Hotel Santa Teresa

The Section Z-7 officers quickly ascended to the top floor under the roof of the hotel, quietly jogging down the hallway to find the apartment of their targets.

Outside, were at least four Section Z-7 officers and an armored transport guarding a snazzy looking car, that had Agent Harper in the driver seat and Agent Crocodile, whom had a bandaged nose, some stitches on his left temple, and his fedora back and in a clean suit, in the passenger seat, biting his thumbnail in impatience.

Behind them was a tall, muscular man with short black hair and brown skin. While most often obscured by shadows, his eyes are shown to be pitch black with small, white pupils. He wears a light beige two-piece suit with a matching tie and white dress shirt underneath.

This is Bruce Maccabee; the man Crocodile was talking about earlier.

Back in the hotel, the officers got to the floor of their target and found the room, labeled 777 in metal numbers at the end of the hall. Slowly, the team lined up to breach the room.

Ivan heard something at the door. He got up from the floor and snuck to the apartment door while Francis stayed back at the TV. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of something from the window and peaked out. Several gang members were running away from... something. One of them even stopped and fired twice before getting shot in the chest and face, falling dead on the street as the other gangers sprinted off to anywhere but here.

"Oh, fuck." Francis whispered, turning to Ivan to warn him. But before he did, he felt a numbing tingle in his arm.

He looked down to see the veins of his left arm glowing blue. Francis blinked, alarmed. His veins stopped glowing when he checked his arm again. The red haired man shook his head, trying to get that image out of his head. 'Jesus, I need to lay off the painkillers.'

XXX

Just as the 7 officers from Section Z-7 were ready to commence their breach into the apartment of their targets, the door to the apartment beside them opened to reveal a pissed off William Snake, this time without his snake around his neck.

"For the last fucking time, if you don't-"

"Contact. Ten seconds." The leading officer cut him off, more to his follow officers than the filthy rotund man. But that didn't stop the nearest officer from pulling out a large, high powered, revolver and pointing it at William's head.

Snake barely had a chance to gasp in horror before the trigger was pulled and his brains were blown out of his skull and splattered across the pavement.

XXX

"Uh, Ivan?" Francis called, hearing the gunshot in the hall, "Something's going on outside."

"What the fuck?" Ivan didn't hear his friend as he had looked through the peephole, only to see the officers staring back.

"Contact." One of the officers aimed his rifle at Ivan after peering through the peephole. Ivan panicked and ran back before bullets pierced the door, sending dust kicking up while the former gangbanger managed to somersault out of the way and to a startled Francis.

"WHAT THE-" Francis attempted to swear due to his surprise, but Ivan clamped his hand over his mouth while whispering.

"Be quiet."

XXX

Officer Detmer raised an eyebrow under his mask. They came here to eliminate the residents of this apartment, but it didn't seem like they were here at all.

He motioned for Johnson to move in. He received a nod as his fellow officer kicked the door and entered the apartment, while the others had their weapons ready in case something unexpected happened. It was silent for a few seconds before Johnson turned around and his voice rang out, "Targets not in sight."

Suddenly, a metal pan hit Johnson over the head. He didn't seem hurt but then a multitude of objects came flying at him, hitting him in multiple spots before a full pizza slammed against his face. It slides off his mask, leaving some tomato sauce staining the white, with Johnson not reacting. Before he moved to neutralize the targets, Johnson heard the buzzing of hundreds of insects from the wall.

He turned to the walls of the apartment to see several hundred cockroaches crawling all over the walls and converging towards him.

Johnson immediately yelled, "Biohazard Alert! Counter-attack!" The officer took aim and started firing on the roaches, but due to the fact there were so many of them, he was firing all across the apartment. Hitting the walls, the floor, the furniture, even the windows.

In his random shootout, however, he didn't realize that he'd hit a rather delicate part of the room. Suddenly, the ceiling suddenly caved, and the AC unit came crashing down on Johnson, crushing his skull and the upper half of his body, causing his rifle to fall to the floor.

Ivan suddenly cartwheeled into sight while grabbing the rifle and pointing it at them.

"Eat lead, mutafukaz!" He yelled, pulling the trigger.

The bullets started flying like arrows of hot lead, but the officer anticipated this and immediately dove out of sight and into the hallway. One officer wasn't so lucky as he was hit multiple times in the chest, sternum, and finally head. He slumped against the apartment wall, dropping the revolver he used to kill Snake, while Ivan kept firing, unaware that his eyes had gone blank and dark splotches were forming on his skin.

Ivan stopped shooting for a second when nothing happened. He raised an eyebrow before narrowing his eyes and slowly walking towards the door to see if they're still there, only for a flashbang to appear and roll to his feet.

He swore and jumped to the side as it detonated. The room was all white and a sharp ringing flooded his ears for a second before it cleared as he shook his head to get it out. Ivan then saw another Section Z-7 officer with a big-ass shotgun that was pointed at him and Francis emerging from the smoke.

"Engage!" The officer attempted to fire but Ivan beat him to it, firing his rifle at the former. The officer got hit but a few bullets but Ivan's stolen rifle ran empty, causing the latter to aim at him while cocking his shotgun.

"Shit!" Ivan yelped, jumping out of the way as the blast from the officer's shotgun tore a hole in the wall.

With Francis, he was pushed hard against the wall, hoping he wouldn't get shot. But there was a sudden pain in his heart was unbearable when this started, it was growing more and more painful until it seemed like his heart was burning. Francis's eyes started glowing before his hair seemed to flare and his vein glowed light blue in fury.

"Francis!" Ivan turned to him, not noticing his flames, "Got a plan?"

"Yep." Was all he said, clenching a fist with the flames intensifying.

"...Bronson, we may have a problem." The officer said as he saw Francis' fist on fire.

Francis let out a huge roar as a stream of flames speared from his hands, torching the room while the officer didn't seem that affected, though he was backing away while trying to put out the flames. The officer's frantic actions, however, caused the pin to come loose on one of his grenades.

He silent swore before putting up his hands to other officers that tried to enter, "Alert! Fire in the hole! Retreat!" The grenade detonated, tearing the officer in half and flooding the apartment with smoke. Francis started laughing before Ivan grabbed the revolver and pocketed it, jumping to the shattered window.

"Come on, Francis!" Ivan yelled before he jumped out the window to the street below.

Francis frowned, looking at the Z-7 officers that were entering and yelled, "Later, bitches!" He jumped out the window, backflipped in mid-air and swan dived down into the open manhole before using his flames to halt his fall. His feet slammed to the dirty walkways of the sewers, meeting back with Ivan, who had his arms crossed.

"So, what now?" He asked, uncrossing his arms.

"Well, we're wanted by the cops, so we got to go to the one place where the cops won't go;" Francis starts his sentence before the two finished in unison, "Palm Hill."

They started to navigate the sewers before the two immediately noticed something different. Extremely different. For one, Ivan's entire body was black as night while his facial features were gone except his eyes, which were blank and red. Secondly, Francis' hair seemed to be glimmering, as if on fire, while his eyes were a molten orange.

"We got our powers back..." Ebon whispered as they stared at each other.

"WE GOT OUR POWERS BACK, MUTAFUKAS!" Hotstreak cheered as the two fist bumped, cheering in triumph.

Unknown to anyone but the Nuka-Cola execs, Nuka-Cola Quantum contained a 'safe' isotope of strontium-90. Because of this, the isotope reacted to small traces of the Quantum Vapor in their systems, restoring their powers. The two then wasted no time and ran down the sewers to Palm Hill.

2 hours later

Room 777

Bruce was not pleased. In fact, he was quite the opposite of pleased. First, his associate, Randall, had failed to catch the two targets, but Section Z-7 had failed to capture the targets! SECTION Z-7! The best soldiers in DMC! But as he walked into the apartment, he slowly began to understand why; The entire apartment was scourged and filled with bullet holes, the furniture was destroyed, and two of the officers were laying there, dead. And another officer crushed under a fallen AC unit.

"Good evening, sir!" Officer Bronson saluted his superior, respectfully and earnestly.

He shook it off before asking the Section Z-7 officer to give his explanation, "Officer Bronson, would you mind explaining how they managed to escape?"

"We were surprised by the physical layout of the premises and the targets' unconventional reactions, sir." The officer responded in his usual honest and to the point tone, not sugarcoating the fact that they had failed.

Bruce sighed angerly at this reveal, "Are you an elite assault team, and or a bunch of amateurs?! Your targets were in their early twenties!"

"One of them had the ability to use pyrokinesis." Bronson responded.

Bruce just growled in anger but composed himself enough to order out, "It doesn't matter! Seal off this area and make sure no one enters! Dismissed!" The officers saluted while Bruce and his agents left to report to their boss. He was not gonna be happy.

?

In some dark office far from DMC, four camera feeds were displayed on four monitors: Ivan and Francis' apartment, their destroyed TV, the door to William Snake's apartment, and Snake himself on the floor of his apartment, dead. The top half of his skull blown off with his brain little more than mush, his eyes rolled into the back, and pink foam fizzing out of the corners of his mouth.

The grey skinned man let out a breath of annoyance before turning in his leather chair to a nervous looking Bruce Maccabee, who just reported about the failure of Operation Shadowtag.

"They... escaped, you say? How is that possible?" He asked, with his fingers folded and one leg over the other, "Tactical support was provided by Special Section Z-7, the cutting edge of genetically enhanced soldiers. They are dedicated, experienced fighters, accustomed to all sorts of high-risk urban operations. We both know this, do we not, Mr. Maccabee?" He then unfolded his fingers and stood up, "How could two unsuspecting metahumans in their 20s have repelled their attack?"

Bruce just tried to remain as stoic as he could, mumbling out, "I don't know, sir..."

"Do you even realize how serious this situation had become?" His boss asked again. If his boss was angry, he was doing a remarkably good job at hiding it.

Bruce remained silent, signifying that he didn't know.

The man with stone-like skin simply reached under his desk and pulled out a bundle of pick up sticks before setting them onto the table.

"Are you familiar with the game 'Pick up the sticks', Mr. Maccabee?" His boss asked, holding one of the sticks, "It is an ancient game that demands concentration and great dexterity! It consists of removing a wooden stick from a pile of similar sticks. Only one stick may be moved at a time. Whenever a player mistakenly moves more than one stick, his turn is over."

He then leans towards Bruce, "In other words, if the player wishes to stay in the game, it is in his best interest not to make waves! His hand must be sure, firm, and stable..."

"I cannot help but wonder if you're the right player for this game we are playing, Mr. Maccabee..." He muttered, setting the stick in his hand down to the pile, "Can I still rely on you? Our allies cannot allow such a serious threat to wander freely through the streets of Dark Meat City." The man with the stone-like skin raised his right hand and lowered it to pick up another stick from the pile. "I want you to focus all your efforts on bringing him to me-dead or alive-as well as his friend, since we do not know if they share the same... 'ability.'"

One of his men sneezed as he was picking up the stick, causing him to jerk, shifting the other sticks in the pile. He inhaled sharply before exhaling shakingly, glaring at the skinny man with a receding hairline.

"Mister. Z, can you come here, please?"

"Yes, sir." The lean man dully replied, walking up to the boss without so much as a thought for the effect. The gray skinned man flicked the pile of sticks, breaking the pile apart but one was sent spearing towards Mr. Z. It pierced his glasses, gouged out his left eye, and piercing his brain. He screamed as the force knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling and skidding onto the floor and into the wall, dead.

Bruce didn't even flinch at this while his boss simply growled, "You may leave now..."

Cross Street

A homeless guy giggled as he managed to swipe the wallet off of some dirty bat, with him walking off none the wiser. He walked down the streets with ungodly amounts of swagger until he saw a bunch of people gathered around a holo-screen. He raised an eyebrow, jogging to the small crowd and asking one of the people, "What's going on?"

"They're saying they found the guys that bombed the capital."

The homeless guy looked shocked before he set his eyes on the screen.

"Dark Meat City in fear as two suspects believed to be responsible for the bombing of the capital escaped from Police earlier yesterday." Joey Hankmen of DMC News announced onscreen as usual, "For more information, we go to Melissa Atkins. Melissa?"

DMC news station

Melissa Atkins, an attractive brunette wearing a red dress and heels, sighed as she shuffled her papers and prepared for her report. This job was tiring, what with all the 24 hour news cycles and such, but this job got her off the streets so what can she do?

"Live in 3... 2... 1..." The same monotonous voice she heard every day for the past 3 years came back from behind the camera to haunt her ears.

She forced a smile and began her segment, "Thank you, Joey. Last night, an anonymous call sent Police to a small apartment situated on the top of the Hotel Saint Teresa in Rios Rosa where the terrorists responsible for the attack on the capital were hiding out."

Palm Hill

In Palm Hills, the various gangs were all gathered at the TVs to see what all the fuss was about. The most noticeable one was a heavyset dark-skinned man with black eyes and white irises, 'Kill4Krack' tattooed on his stomach, a cross tattooed on his upper left arm, and a bigger cross tattooed on his back. He had a red bandana tied around his head and another covering his nose and mouth, a gold chain with a Christian cross, and red sweat pants.

This is William Steeler of the Bloods gang. Better known on the streets as Shakespeare, due to him constantly quoting the famous English playwright. And right now, he and his gang were all watching that brunette bitch speak the lies that shout louder than life. Like all the media in history did has ever done is spin an untangleable web of lies, dishonesty, prejudice, hate, and corruption.

"After a violent exchange of close-quarters gunfire, the two suspects managed to make their escape unharmed. Before doing so, however, the criminals took the lives of 3 officers and their next-door neighbor, one William Anthony Snake, a respectable Dark Meat City resident."

"BULLSHIT!" Peachfuzz, a ganger with pigtail dreadlocks yelled, "I meet that William Snake! He was a mutafucking Nazi! Even if they're being honest for once, that fatass got what he deserved!"

"Yeah, this bitch probably banged the head of the network to get this job." A ganger agreed with a disgusted sneer.

"'Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valour, as thou are in desire?'" Shakespeare quoted his namesake with his arms crossed, "Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7."

Hotel Destro

"Who are these terrorists and what are their motives? Some specialists claim that such depraved acts are caused by poverty and despair. Others take a more aggressive stance on the subject. To them, these young men have been raised to hate the country in which they live, in an environment that scoffs at global laws and societal values. This incomprehension is an incubator of extremism. Most cut themselves off from the rest of the population, like the 600 gangs and their 25,000 members that run rampant in our streets. But some groups, driven by visceral, deep-rooted hatred, form terrorist groups with paramilitary-style discipline who commit large attacks."

Agent Crocodile scoffed while he cleaned and prepared his guns. It was the same shit they put out to cover their tracks, they just needed someone to take the fall for them. He tested his night vision goggles, AR-15s, SMGs, and the fifty caliber M82 sniper rifle with special automatic adjusting scope. The agent stopped when he saw the ammo box for the fifty caliber rifle.

These were special E.R.U.P.T.I.O.N rounds; extremely heavy explosive rounds that release shockwaves that blow through most materials. Hell, he saw one round dent an indestructible metamaterial! And these were given to him to take out two metahumans!

Then again, sometimes you gotta shoot em up before they see ya. And if they see ya, you are dead.

Marquis Apartments

"It is to the latter category that the two fugitives responsible for the attack on the Capital belong. Their abominable act, which reduced the capital and several other building to rubble, along with taking the lives of 3,000 people, including Governor Gore W. Tex and his advisors. His successor, current Governor Tirana Hoffman, whom formed a commission to determine the real reasons of the attack only a few weeks after the terrible incident, declared yesterday that she would do everything in her power to find and punish those responsible, as well as any accomplices they might have. It would appear the two fugitives have a great deal to be concerned about..."

Zoe and Frida Aves looked at each other before they continued to watch the program. Both were in their mid to late 20s; Zoe wore a pair of black warm up pants and a black tank top. She had black lipstick and eyeliner, and her hair was a pixie-cut with her bangs covering her left eye. Frida wore a whit beater and red shorts that really showed off her figure, her hair was shoulder length.

"Two guys destroyed the capital of Dark Meat City? Yeah, right." Zoe rolled her eyes, both sarcastically and cynically. Living 23 miles from the capital, she'd be surprised insects would make it to the Governor's office. That place was the most patrolled and protected area in all of Dark Meat City, and she and everyone else in the city was supposed to believe that two terrorists managed to sneak in and detonate a bomb?

"You know how this city is. People die like flies here." Frida said in a bored tone, cleaning a pistol. You tend to get numb to people dying and having guns to defend yourself when you live in DMC.

DMC News Station

"If you happen to see these individuals, do not attempt to apprehend them yourself. Immediately contact the MID office nearest to you, or your local Police Station. If you are outside of DMC and recognize them, contact the DMC Jurisdiction Consulate. The following sketches were composed by our sketch artists based on eyewitness description."

It showed two men: One had onyx black skin and shaggy black hair; the only facial features were two blank red eyes. The other had red shoulder-length hair that seemed to be on fire and also had blank eyes.

"Coming up next, yet another eminent scientist gone missing, and a record-breaking heatwave may effect crime." Melissa finished, internally relieved that this was about to end.

The jingle came as the camera man said, "And cut!"

Melissa sighed, setting down her papers before yelling to the other guys, "Thank god! Can somebody get me an espresso?!"

One of the tech guys grumbled and walked off to get that coffee for her while Melissa just laid back, glad she only had to do a few more segments before she could go home and have the day off.

Two guys that bombed the capital? Fucking damnit, the execs must be desperate for stories.

El Diablo's estate

"Fucking damnit, the news is desperate for stories." El Diablo said to his girls, whom all nodded. It was the night after their grand tournament, and just that night, the two guys who allegedly bombed the capital got into a fire fight with the Police?

'God damnit, I hate the news.' El Diablo thought as he laid back in his hot tub with all his girls around him. He was in a black bathrobe with red flames, relaxing by some of his hot fans. A necessity when you fight with your friends every day.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing. He raised an eyebrow and answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Diablo!" Jesse Christ replied over the line, "La Sentenza called me and said he's got something, he wants us to look into something with him."

"Alright, I'll be there." El Diablo hangs up and informs the chicks with him, "Gotta go, ladies." The devil-based luchador backflips out of the hot tubs, quickly threw on a white t-shirt, jeans and boots, and rode off in his motorcycle. All in three minutes.

2 hours later:

Muerte Parking

A camera flashes as a reporter photographs the dead body of La Sentenza while the cops peeled over the sheet that had been placed over, to hide from the public while a naked woman was clothed in a bathrobe from the car that covered her modesty, shaking in terror. By her was a car where she had been allegedly kidnapped. The two cops currently investigating were a well-built man with a grey crew cut and a lean man with a pointy nose and combed blond hair. This is Sergeant Mark McDouglas and Corporal Oswald Strawberry, respectively.

"I know this guy... I already see him on tv!" The corporal tells the sergeant as they examine the body, with the photographer taking a shot as they peeled the shroud off, "He's, like, some sort of fighter or..."

"A wrestling superstar..." McDouglas answered, pulling the cover back over the body before he turns to the woman, "Mam, can you explain what happened again, please?"

The woman sighed, steeling herself and running a hand over her black hair, "I woke up in the trunk, tied up and naked. I managed to get out of the binds and knock onto the trunk until he opened. Maybe, I got his attention or something, I don't know. I grabbed a brick and hit him over the head."

"Hit him over the head?" Strawberry asked incredulously before he pointed at the body, "He's dead!"

She sighed again, having a regretful look on her face, "Look, I was panicking. He fell down and I called you guys." Before they could ask any more questions, Bruce and some MIBs came by with several papers in their hands.

"Thank you, gentleman. We'll take it from here." The intimidating man said in his gravelly voice, showing some papers, "This is a government matter. And somebody arrest that clown with the camera."

The photographer squawked at the statement, showing the pass around his neck as the men in suits approached, "What?! I have a press pass!"

Despite some arguments, the cops and the photographer left the scene, leaving the woman with the MIB. Soon after, a cleanup crew in PPC gear came to the scene for 'clean up', removing any and all traces of DNA from the vehicle while Bruce talked with the woman, who immediately dropped the act and gained a stoic expression.

"Did they buy the story, Agent Carpenter?" He asked her, standing over the woman as she looked back.

Carpenter nodded, answering in a calm and collected tone, "Yes. They were skeptical, but it worked in the end."

"Okay, what else do you got? Any eyewitnesses to the murder?"

She shook her head, "No, I was alone in this alley. The two that found me with the body were also from Lucha Ultima. They had been called by La Sentenza to meet me. They were taken by the Police. They're questioning them right now."

DMC Police Department: Interrogation Room

The interrogator sighed before telling him, "Okay, let's take it from the top. So, he calls you in the middle of the night. Kind of strange, don't you think?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" El Diablo growled, arms crossed and mood sour, "He just called me and Jesse up, and we found his head caved in with that woman crouched by him, clutching a bloodied brick while naked as a jay bird and shaking like a leaf."

The interrogator groaned in frustration as he shuffled his papers.

"I know all of your interrogation techniques, pal... And they stopped impressing me a long time ago..." El Diablo replied, leaning back against his chair while having a disinterested tone to his voice.

XXX

"Officer, please," Jesse almost pleaded with the interrogator, "La Sentenza called me and said he wanted to meet us, so I called El Diablo to come with me. We got to where he told us to be, and we found him dead with a naked woman who was clutching a brick by him."

"You must understand, Mr. McGregor," The female detective replied, skeptical on the claims that were made, "Your friend happened to have a naked woman in the trunk of his car with robes in said trunk? I think it's fair to say that he may have had a more sinister motive."

Jesse made an offended sound and growled at the detective, "How dare you! He was like family!"

Muerte Parking

Bruce let out a growling sigh, "Okay. This whole thing stinks..." He rubbed his eyes for a second before giving orders, "Let those clowns walk for now. Their testimonies could complicate things. We'll deal with them later... Try to make this look like an accident. A suicide or an overdose- Anything to make this shit look like something else."

Agent Carpenter nodded as one of the clean-up crew gave her spare clothes. If one were to have Ivan's vision and see her shadow, they would have seen a large tentacled creature in place of her.

Palm Hill

In an abandoned street, a manhole cover was uncovered from underneath as Ebon and Hotstreak crawled out of the sewers, panting as they got to the street, the latter spitting out a rat's tail before glared at the former.

"I told you we should have taken a right at that damn intersection!" He yelled as he wiped the gunk on his shoes off on the pavement while using his powers to dry himself off.

Ebon glared back, the filth evaporating against his shadowy form, "I'm not the one who set fire to that fucking gator!"

"What the fuck ever!" Hotstreak threw up his arms, not giving two shits about that whole situation, "Let's just get to that place Willy told us about and pray this whole thing blows over."

The shadowy metahuman didn't protest before the both of them managed to get to Palm Hills.

(The Toxic Avenger- Palm Hill Rules)

It was as every bit as pleasant as the rest of DMC; The Bloods and Rivers fighting over territory, thieving kids, asshole teenagers, hobos sleeping on the streets, drunks, gangsters, and people in red beating up people that wearing blue. Hell, you know it's bad when the highway signs actually read, "Drive at your own risk." Complete with a skull and crossbones before it.

The duo just kept their heads down and mouths shut before Ebon managed to find a old payphone and made Francis give up his only quarter.

"Just pray he answers." Hotstreak mumbled as he stood on look out while Ebon made the call to Willy, "This is my only quarter!"

Ebon rolled his eyes and inserted the quarter. He quickly dialed Willy's number and prayed that he wouldn't get the answering machine. Thankfully, Willy answered, and he told the bat about the situation.

"Caeser's place?" Willy said over the phone, "Shit, fellas! It's a safehouse in Palm Hill! What'd you expect!?"

"Oh, I don't know... " Ebon deadpanned while looking around the chaos of Palm Hill, "But isn't a safehouse supposed to be safe?"

While he was talking, a bald thug with many dents and bandages on his head came up and growled, "Yo, get outta here! I gotta use the phone!" Ebon, not wanting to attract attention, just hung up and walked off with Hotstreak trailing behind whom flipped the thug off. Unseen to them, the thug headbutted the payphone, causing many quarters to come pouring out of the bottom that he stuffed into his pocket.

"How'd Willy get the keys to a gangster's house?" Ebon asked his friend, who shrugged.

"Don't know, but it gonna bite him in the dick one of these days."

The duo was stopped when they bumped into Shakespeare. They just stared for a few seconds before the massive gangster narrowed his eyes and leaned forwards till his and Ebon's faces were a foot apart.

"I ain't ever seen you two motherfuckers 'round here before," Shakespeare said before quoting his namesake, "'Give they thoughts no tongue, nor any unproportioned thought his act.'"

"Whoa, whoa. Look, bro." The supervillain held up his hands in a placating manner, trying to not attract unwanted attention, "We're just passing through."

"Really? Well, are you two gonna be a fucking problem?" Shakespeare vaguely threated, getting close to his face. Ebon's expression tightened. So, that's how he wants it to go down, eh?

"That depends." Ebon got in his face, staring threateningly, "You want it to be a fucking problem?" Hotstreak lit up a fireball in his hand, grinning sadistically while Ebon and Shakespeare narrowed their eyes and reached for their weapons.

"Yo! Shakespeare!" A ganger wearing a jersey and cap interrupted them before either of them did anything, "Some bad shit's going down! The fucking Crips just hit one of our gun stashes, dawg! I hear they killed Bobby!"

"What?!" Shakespeare exclaimed before running off with the other ganger, "I'm coming!"

The two metahumans look at each other before shrugging and walking on to where that safehouse was. At least, they were in the clear for the moment.

(Music Ends)

"So, on the bright side, (no pun intended) at least the cops don't ever come here." Ebon uttered, thinking about the incident last year where half a dozen cops and gangsters massacred each other. After that, the cops wouldn't go in because of the things haunting them since.

Hotstreak just snarked, thinking that exact same thing, "Yeah, cause that makes me feel so much better."

"Look, we just need to lay low, avoid wearing blue t-shirts under their noses, and everything will be fine. You'll see." He placated his friend, who just exhaled through his nose and conceding. The two finally got to the 'safehouse'; a blue unsuspecting 2 story with a dried and unkept lawn and a metal fence. Ebon opened the gate and got in, "It's no Hilton, but it'll do."

Hotstreak said nothing but he turned his head when he heard cawing. There was a crow that landed just outside of the metal fence; it seemed normal but it's eyes were oddly green and lustered, lacking irises or pupils.

'Damn, even the crows are assholes.' He fought off a shiver before hearing Ebon speak about something else, "You know, I heard that cats can travel for hundreds of miles to find their masters. I hope my roaches can do that. Oh, well, a man can hope."

He rolled his eyes as Ebon unlocked the door. Both entered before anybody did anything else, but not before Hotstreak stared at the crow one more time.

"Damn, that thing is creepy." He muttered before closing the door. The place was as much a shithole as their apartment. No AC, barely any furniture, and no food except for a cereal box that had a pistol and two grenades in it.

Sufficed to say, the two just settled in the living room, hoping they could at least watch TV. That hope still held when they saw that the TV was the same model as the one in their apartment.

"Dude, do this place even have power?" Ebon asked to Hotstreak, who had a 'why the hell are you asking me' face.

He turned the TV on by turning the largest of the dials, but as he did, a sketch of them both appeared on the screen with the voice of Joey Hankman narrating, "...are wanted for domestic terrorism, murder and conspiracy against the city and state..."

The duo listened in on the newscast, hearing how they were wanted for the bombing last month. They just stared at the screen for a long time, processing what was being shown before they stared at each other.

"Do you know what this means?" Ebon asked his friend in a quiet tone.

"Yeah..." Hotstreak was quiet for a moment before he shouted, "IT MEANS WE'RE FAMOUS, BITCH!"

They cheered while hollering at the top of their lungs. Finally! After 5 years of slaving away with multiple jobs, living DMC's uncountable slums, and being powerless nobodies, they can finally get back to the good old days.

"Turn it up!" Hotstreak yelled, eager to hear more about this story.

Ebon did so, but the image became distorted and staticky before it cut out entirely. The shadowy metahuman frowned, tapping the top of the set when it suddenly popped it's top. The TV was left smoldering as the two looked at each other again.

"Well, as tempting as it may be, we should stay outta sight." Ebon uttered, thinking strategically on the whole thing, "We just got our powers back, so it'll be a while before we're used to them."

Hotstreak only nodded and leaned back in his chair while putting his hands behind his head.

Unknown to the two, the crow that had been staring at them had built-in cameras in it's eyes and built-in micro transmitter in the back of it's head. Argo, it recorded them and sent that information to the MIB. The man with grey stone skin called Bruce and the other and off to Palm Hill they go.

And unknown to all of them, at Room 777, Ivan's horde of quite possibly a million roaches flowed down from the window and flowed into the sewers after their lost master.

Palm Hill

Four black cars parked across from the house where Ebon and Hotstreak were staying at. They tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but with all the gangsters and thugs around, they were noticed pretty quickly by the Bloods.

A muscular gangster with his red baseball cap on sideways and jeans, Hi-Hatz, raised an eyebrow while crossing his arms, "Who the hell are these fools?"

"Keep it quiet." Bruce told the other MIBs as they got out of their cars and approached the house, "We're going to take them by surprise."

Crocodile and Harper saw the gangsters looking at them intensely, with the latter asking the former, "Why are those punks looking at us like that?" Crocodile only shrugged his shoulders in apathy, just wanting to get the job done as quickly as he can.

"They look like undercover cops..." Peachfuzz wondered out loud, examining the MIBs like a wolf.

"Or gestapo..." Hi-Hatz watched on, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Harper gritted his teeth in annoyance, almost crushing his cigarette in his itch to shoot something, "They want me to go over there and kick their asses, is that it?"

"Suckas got mafia written all over them..." Peachfuzz pondered out loud as even more gangsters came by to see what was going on, "Yeah, I bet they're Italian..."

As Harper moved toward the house, his jacket moved to show the pistol he had holstered by his side. Unfortunately, Peachfuzz saw it and reacted as well as one would expect. He immediately pulled out his gun and pointed it at them.

"Huh? Fuck!" Peachfuzz swore when he saw the gun and pulled out his own, aiming it at the MIBs, "Yo, whatchoo bring guns here for, mutafukaz?"

"Ah, shit!" Harper swore, pulling out his gun and aimed it at Peachfuzz.

"Die, fuck!" Peachfuzz reacted quicker than Harper did, firing three times. The bullets all hit Harper in the chest, but as he fell, the MIB managed to shoot Peachfuzz in twice the gut. The gangster stumbled to his knees, clutching his gut with a pained expression while Harper fell dead.

Bruce groaned as he saw this, knowing what was about to happened as he pulled out his golden Colt Python, "Oh, shit."

Hi-Hatz growled, pulling out his gun and aiming it, "BLAST EM!" All the gangsters gathered around the area opened fire, while MIBs ducked behind their cars. One of them helped up Peach while firing his gun as he got his friend to safety.

The MIBs fired back under the over of their car while Bruce growled, "Crocodile, go get the targets! We'll take care of these punks!"

Agent Crocodile nodded, dashing to the door and kicked the door down. He pointed his gun and searched the room, blinking when he didn't see them. The agent then heard something and turned to see Hotstreak sliding under a boarded up doorframe, leaving some flames on the floor as Ebon passed through them.

"They're making a run for it through the backdoor!" Crocodile called to his boss as he ran after them.

"What are waiting for?" Bruce yelled back, still ducking behind his car for cover as the bullets kept flying, "Get to your cars!" The MIB guys scrambled into their cars, some tumbling on their way in as they tried to start them.

Suddenly, everyone stopped when they saw the heavyset gang leader hoist up dual light machine guns, ready to fire.

"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' Action." Shakespeare quoted the playwright of his namesake as he opened fire on the MIB with his homies. They ducked for cover lest they be mowed down by Shakespeare with the muzzles from his guns flashing like the flames of hell. The bullets piercing the cars' frames, destroying their engines, parts, rendering them useless while hitting the MIBs hiding behind.

"'Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.'" Shakespeare continued to quote his namesake as he and his gang gunned down MIB after MIB, not seeing the white suited man leap behind with his handcannon pointed at him.

"'To be or not to be. That is the question.'" Bruce quoted, causing Shakespeare to turn around, "I can quote Shakespeare too, bitch." He shot Shakespeare in the eye before the latter could react, sending him to the ground. The intimidating man then shot two other Bloods members, the force of his bullets sending them flying to the ground, before breaking into a sprint to the other MIBs.

Hi-Hatz fired on Bruce as the latter was running back to his car, hitting him twice in the shoulder and once in the ribs. Normally fatal wounds for anyone else but Bruce barely seemed to bleed. "I shot that sumbitch three times and he's still running around like a rabbit!" Hi-Hatz yelled out in confusion but shook it off as he continued to fire on them.

Bruce dashed to one of the cars and yelled at the driver, "GO! GET THE FUGITIVES!" The driver cowered before he slammed on the gas. But as they did, another car driven by the gangsters with one with dreadlocks leading out of the passenger seat with dual pistols.

"You ain't getting away, mutafukaz!" He yelled as he fired, killing the driver. The car swerved before crashing into a telephone pole under tons of gunshots. It suddenly burst into flames while the other gangsters gathered around. The windshield was shattered while the passenger had been thrown through, resting bloodily on the hood, moaning in pain.

"Fucking A," One of the gangsters yelled out as he saw the body move, writhing against the hood, "One of them is still moving!" Another gangster simply and calmly walked up and shot him in his skull twice, sending blood, hair, and skin all over the hood.

"BLOODS FOR LIFE, HOMIES!" One of them yelled while the other gangsters hollered. The one that shot the passenger hollered, "Shoulda stayed in your own hood, fools! This is Palm Hill!"

Suddenly, the 'dead' passenger's flesh bulged, veins visible through the skin as he crawled through the shattered windshield. The clothes shredded off as the body grew, horns bloodily ripping out from the temples, teeth deforming into yellow fangs, and inhuman features forming randomly. The MIB now resembled a thin demon with a face that lacked eyes and a nose but gained horns and yellow fangs, pitch black skin, a yellow serpentine eye on the chest, thin arms and legs ending in curved red claws, and a tail holding several venomous spines.

Suffice to say, the Bloodz were stunned at the monster that came from that MIB.

"What the-?!" One of the gangsters was cut off when it decapitated him with one of it's spines. The other gangsters snapped out of their stupor and immediately began firing, to little affect as the bullet wounds regenerated. Unseen to any of them, Ebon and Hotstreak were watching from atop the roof of one of the nearby houses, gaping at what they were seeing.

"Holy shit..." Hotstreak breathed out, turning to Ebon, "You weren't hallucinating!"

"I told you!" The shadowy metahuman exclaimed before he exhaled. Due to all the stress he suffered from recently, he began narrowing his eyes, "Francis, put it down."

"Huh?"

"Smoke it. I've been needing some stress relief."

Hotstreak grinned, preparing a ball of fire in his hand before leading and propelling himself into the air from flames spewing from under his feet. The Bloodz stopped firing and saw the flaming metahuman while the demonic thing looked up him and growled out, ready to kill them.

"EAT FLAMES, MUTAFUKA!" Hotstreak yelled before letting lose a stream of fire at the thing.

The black daemonic monster screeched in pain, turning to them, hatefully. It attempted to skewer the two with its tail, but Ebon warped his arm into a bladed tendril that slashed the tail off as black blood spewed out. Before it could react or even screech, Hotstreak released another torrent of flames on it, blazing the streets and smelting the cars caught in.

It screeched again, wailing in the inferno, trying to escape or strike back at them but Ebon extended his arms, pinning it to the ground. Boils started forming all around it, bursting in disgusting fashion, losing chunks of its bodily fluids. Eventually, it lost grip in itself, collapsing into a pool of boiling blood and melting flesh that put out most of the flames around it.

"HA!" Hotstreak yelled at the dead abomination, still on the high of getting his powers back, "Eat it, you freaky piece of shit!"

Making sure it was dead, Ebon yelled out, "Come on, we have to get outta here." The two got off the roof and hopped to the back lawn, hopped over the fence and into the street behind the house, only to see another MIB car speeding towards them with one of them hanging out of the window and with an SMG trained on them.

"No!" Ebon held off Hotstreak, who was preparing a fireball, "It's my turn."

He reached into his chest, rippling like liquid, before pulling out the revolver he stole from the Z-7 officers during the raid on their apartment. Ebon raised the gun at the car and took aim.

It was getting closer, but he remained calm, lining up the gun's sight.

And then when they were a hundred feet away, Ebon simply took a breath and fired.

The bullet speared through the air before piercing the windshield and ripping through the heads of the driver and the agent in the backseat, much to the shock of the agent in the passenger seat. The driver's body slumped with his foot pressing on the gas, causing the car to accelerate. It sped faster and faster until a van came into the street, and the car crashed into it.

Each vehicle overturned; the van simply skedding harmlessly while the car tumbled into a house after the agent in the passenger seat tumbled out onto the lawn, his suit in tatters and covered in wounds.

"Nice, dude!" Hotstreak laughed, patting a smug Ebon on the back, who placed the high-powered revolver back into his chest.

"Thanks, but we gotta get outta here. Reinforcements from either side could come. We gotta get some wheels and get the hell outta dodge!"

As he said so, the car that he shot exploded, destroying the house that it crashed in. The flaming metahuman nodded after the explosion, both dashing off to find some transportation to escape from here.

XXX

The agent that escaped the tumbling car managed to limb to Bruce at his car, shouting out as they raised their guns at them, "Alert! Cease fire! They've managed to escape again!"

"Back to your cars! We have to catch them!" Bruce shouted as he got into the passenger seat of his car, "They cannot leave this neighborhood!"

He slammed the door shut before the driver slammed on the gas, sending the car speeding down the street, tanking the bullets flying from the guns of all the gangsters in Palm Hill.

XXX

Ebon and Hotstreak were sprinting through the street, dodging and jumping over the cars that came speeding down, when suddenly, a helicopter came hovering over them with its spotlight focused on them.

"Hotstreak! Take that chopper out!" Ebon yelled as he grabbed several guns from their fallen users, using them to fire against the MIBs while storing the others in his body. The flaming metahuman cackled manically before jumping high into the air with assistance from his powers. He swiveled around, facing the helicopter before readying a fireball.

"BOOM, BITCH!" He roared, hurling the fireball at the copter. It impacted the front, smelting and ripping through its frame before it exploded, sending burning debris flying in all directions.

Hotstreak landing, laughing as the two hi-fived before a large red car pulled up beside them. Before they could react, a muscular man with a paunch in a pair of jeans, a whit beater, and a red mask came out of the driver's seat.

"Ebon! Hotstreak!" The guy in the red masked yelled at them.

The two supervillains looked at each other, confused, before Ebon asked, "Do we know you?"

"No time! Get in the car, they're coming!" The masked guy yelled, as he got out of the car. Ebon turned and saw that he was right, the MIBs were catching up but now they got a ride. They both looked at each other and nodded. Ebon getting into the driver's seat and Hotstreak getting into the passenger's seat.

"Thanks, amigo!" Ebon thanked the masked man, "I dunno why you're helping us, but God bless ya... If he exists."

The masked man nodded, "Don't worry about flooring it! I tuned her up 3 days ago! Now hurry, go go go go go!"

Ebon slammed the door closed and floored it. The car's tires screeched for a second, then rocketing down the street with the MIBs in hot pursuit after X got off the street and onto the sidewalk.

The masked man stared at the cars fading into the horizon before he turned to the audience.

"If you think this is crazy; buddy, you guys ain't seen nothing yet!"

There are hundreds of thousands of galaxies in the universe, and each of them orbits a mysterious core... These galaxies are made up of several solar systems, which are themselves made up of planets that rotate a star. A star is made of atoms, the raw materials of the universe: an infinitely small system orbiting a more massive central core. A simple drop of water contains hundreds of thousands of atoms, each of which function as true solar system.

The circle is complete: Everything is in everything. The mechanism that dictates the infinitely small are the same mechanisms that dictate the infinitely large. From atom to cosmos, it is only a question of size.

These are the kind of thoughts that run through your mind when a bunch of killers are breathing down your neck on a freeway at 80 mph. It's no longer a question of infinitely small or infinitely large... but rather infinitely urgent.

DMC 456 Freeway

The two supervillains in the masked man's car speared down the highway with the three MIB cars in hot pursuit, all maneuvering around the dense traffic in the DMC highways. Conveniently, it had started raining and the sun had set, making traffic worse than usual, but both parties had persisted, much to each other's chagrin as they chased each other through the dense highways.

Hotstreak leaned out the window of the car before pulling himself back in as bullets flew where he was previously, courteously of Agent Crocodile, "Fuck! They're still on our asses!"

"Then, I guess we do this like the old days." Ebon yelled as he slammed his foot on the gas, "Frank? Light em up."

Hotstreak yeeha'd before leaning out of the window and ignited his flames coalesced into an orb that turned the rain hitting it into steam. He pitched it at the leading car, only for it to swerve out of the way causing the orb to hit a van behind them.

It exploded on contact, caving in the front half of the van. It was thrown backwards, hitting two other cars. More cars started piling up behind and the sounds of screeching tires filled the air. The MIB in the passenger seat of the leading car hollered out as he was firing, "I LOVE THIS JOB!"

The flaming supervillain guffawed at the scene before shaking his head, 'No! Okay, focus Francis. Ready...'

He formed another orb above his fingers, shrinking it to fingertip size for precision.

'Aim...'

He then made a gun sign with his hand, pointing at the lead car.

'And... FIRE!' The small orb went flying, hitting the underside of the back trunk. The explosion forced it upwards, tearing off the back wheels while it tumbled over in front of Crocodile's car, stopping the entire street as it blocked the others from coming in.

"BOOM, BITCH!" Hotstreak yelled, pulling back into his seat as they sped off the freeway and into downtown DMC.

XXX

Seeing Hotstreak take out the leading car, Bruce roared out to the driver, "They just took the lead car! Hit the brakes! They're heading straight for us!"

The driver slammed his foot on the brake. The tires squealed against the street, but the momentum caused them to crash into the lead car, totaling their car. Bruce got out of the car and pointed his revolver at nearest stopped car, causing the driver to put his hands up in fear.

"You! Get out of the car!" Bruce roared, also seeing Crocodile's car maneuver pass the overturned one and speed off to give chase against the fugitives.

XXX

Back with Ebon and Hotstreak, the latter was still lobbing fireballs and dodging the shots from Agent Crocodile while the former was swerving and maneuvering around all the oncoming traffic.

"Fuck! They're still on us, Ebon!" The flame metahuman yelled he couldn't seem to shake Agent Crocodile or his driver.

"So, less bitching and more shooting!"

Hotstreak grinned, "Was hoping you'd say that!"

He leaned back out of the window and pitched 3 more fireballs at Crocodile's car and the car behind. The agent's driver swerved out of the way but the third fireball singed the left half of the car. Agent Crocodile yelped at the recoil but managed to keep his grip on his gun and on the car enough for him to continue shooting just seconds after as they exited off the freeway and into the streets of DMC.

The two metahumans swerved out of the way of more shots as Ebon muttered out in frustration, "Fucker doesn't know when to quit." He looked around for some way to shake them when he got an idea, "Hotstreak, give us a boost!"

Hotstreak grinned again before he leaned out and let loose a massive torrent of flames, the force giving the vehicle enough speed to leave Agent Crocodile in the dust, steam rising in droves from the sheer heat he was emitting. The tires heating up near the melting point as they pushed the car through the streets of DMC.

"FUCK!" Agent Crocodile yelled out before turning to the driver and nearly screaming his lung out, "PUNCH IT, WE'RE LOSING THEM!" The driver slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, causing the car to spear towards the two even faster.

Downtown DMC: Figueroa Street

Sergeant Jakobs whistled while he got out of the convenience store with a bag full of donuts, a hot dog, and a soda. So far, it was a pretty quiet day, the riots notwithstanding, but if his instincts were correct, it wasn't going to last. His instincts were then proven correct when a small red car speared through the street so quickly that steam trailed behind followed by two black long cars following behind.

Instead of being disappointed by the breaking of the peace, the sergeant hollered and got into his car, speeding after them with the sirens on full blast. He then grabbed the radio and yelled, "All units I got a 10-71 on Figueroa! The suspects are heading towards 8th street, code 3 emergency backup requested!" Soon, other cops, eager to empty their guns, joined the chase.

XXX

Back with Ebon and Hotstreak, the latter saw the police cars coming behind Agent Crocodile's car and yelled at the former, "Fuck! Ebon, the fucking cops are crashing our party!" He used his flames to try and deter both Crocodile and the cops, but he only succeeded in slowing them down.

Ebon grit his nonexistent teeth, trying to think of a plan before he saw the four-way stop ahead of them, causing an idea to form in his head, "Hotstreak, buckle up!"

"Why?!"

"Trust me!" Hotstreak gazed at Ebon unsurely but buckled up non the less. Ebon rammed his foot on the gas, pushing the car's already strained motor to its limits as the car sped through the red light before the other cars had a chance to pass through. Agent Crocodile's car passed a second to late as the back was hit by another red car, forcing it to swerve.

Not giving them the chance to get away, Crocodile opened the door and tumbled out, aiming his gun at the fleeing car, "YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY FROM ME!" But before he could fire, the police car rammed into his stopped car and tumbled over in his direction. The agent managed to dive out of the way as the cruiser landed front end first into the street, but it began tipping over and falling towards him.

"OH, SHIT!" Crocodile yelped before diving away as the car landed into where he was just a second ago, bursting into flames and sending car parts and smoke into his direction.

Coughing from the smoke making sure he wasn't injured, the agent got to his feet, his suit soaked in the rain as his driver, whom was bleeding from the forehead, got out of the burning wreck that was their car, "Croco? You all right?"

"Am I all right?!" The quite disheveled Crocodile yelled out at his colleague hysterically, motioning to the police cruiser that almost crushed him while the other guy got out of the car also quite disheveled, "I almost got flattened like a goddamn pancake!"

Annoyed, the driver smacked him across the face to calm him down, causing Crocodile's nose to start bleeding from the strike, "Hey, chill out, okay? Nobody forced you to go for a jog on the freeway, dumbass!" The two paused as they saw a yellow car pull up to them before they saw a thoroughly angry Bruce come out, causing the driver to mutter in resignation, "And here's Bruce... He's gonna rake us over the coals."

Their boss had become quite disheveled, bleeding from a wound in his temple, his nose, and the side of his mouth. His dress jacket had tears in the right sleeve, back side, and shoulders, while stained with blood and dirt, but other than all that, Bruce was fine. And hot damn, did he look angry.

"Don't tell me you lost them again?!" Bruce growled furiously, before he took their silence and terrified expression as confirmation, "How could you let them slip through your fingers?!"

"There's still one more of our cars on his tail, sir..." The driver offered to his boss, nervously, and to an extent, Bruce did calm down at hearing that. But suddenly, multiple police cars with their sirens on full blast came to a screeching halt in front of them, before a crapload of cops came out of the cars and pointed their guns at them while yelling at the top of their lungs.

"POLICE!" "PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" "DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE, MUTAFUKAZ!" "DON'T TRY ANYTHING, TOUGH GUY! HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!"

Unfazed by their threats, Bruce calmly reached into his suit and pulled out a document with the POTUS emblem printed on it, showing it to the cops, "Put your toys away and take a deep breath, fellas. We're here on a special mission by order of the President, himself!"

Lowering his shotgun in bepuzzlement, Sergeant Jakobs took the document and saw that it was legitimate, sighing in disappointment, "Damn! With all the top-secret operations going on in the city these days, we're completely lost..."

"Not lost enough to keep you from playing cowboy, though." Bruce deadpanned in response, though not in annoyance.

Ignoring that, the sergeant sighed and rested his shotgun on his shoulder, "Okay, fellas! Wrap it up! Looks like we ain't gonna be emptying our guns tonight." With disappointed sighs, the other cops holstered their guns and started to cordon off the area to investigate, calling for backup and paramedics. One called dispatch and relayed, "911, we have an 11-81 on Figueroa."

Sighing that that was taken care off, Bruce sighed before he saw that something wasn't right. "Wasn't Crocodile with you two?" He asked the two with him, whom seemed just as confused as he was when they saw that Agent Crocodile was nowhere in sight.

"That's weird, he was here five minutes ago..." The Driver scratched his shaved head in confusion.

XXX

Back with Ebon and Hotstreak, they were still being chased by the single remaining car from the MIB. Despite Hotstreak launching dozens of fireballs and even hitting the car a bunch of times, they were still coming at them like a cheetah on crack with the passenger firing at them with a freaking assault rifle!

Hotstreak dodged some shots from the passenger before he lobbed a fireball that knocked the rifle out of his hands, only for him to grab an SMG and start firing again. F-Stop groaned and turned to his roommate, "Ebon, you got a plan?!

The shadowy metahuman glared back and yelled, "I'm working on it!" He then swerved to the right, breaking through a wire fence and into an old truckyard with the MIB car following without a pause. Ebon maneuvered through the space filled with cargos while Hotstreak kept sending fireballs at them to deter the MIB's path, but they kept coming through all the same.

Ebon then saw the wire fence that cut them off from the dried-up canals that made up the DMC river. Getting a terrible idea, Ebon yelled to Hotstreak, "Pray we live through this, Hotstreak!" Before Hotstreak could even say 'Wait, what?', Ebon slammed his foot on the gas pedal, breaking through the fence and sending the two flying through the air. In their desperate attempt to escape their pursuers, our 'heroes' have chosen to drive straight into the DMC River, only to for a tragic thought to rush into their minds: They forgot to buckle their seatbelts.

"SHIIIIIT!" Hotstreak yelled in fear as the car descended rapidly to the ground before Ebon grabbed him by the shoulder. Suddenly, the two fell through their own shadows that then warped out of the car. Just in time for the small red car to crash headfirst into the pavement, tires screeching against stone as the car then flipped and crashed into the side of the river.

All was silent except for the crackling of fire that erupted from the red car when suddenly a shadow formed in the center of the river. And just as suddenly, Ebon and Hotstreak emerged from it, looking no worse for wear if a bit disoriented. Hotstreak seemed like he was about to fall over in shock.

At seeing the flaming wreck that was left of the car, Ebon breathed in sharply, "Hope that masked guy has fucking good car insurance." He then looked to Hotstreak whom was on all fours and panting, "You, okay?"

"Yeah..." He panted before a hysterical chuckled bubbled from his lips before it became a full-blown mad cackle, "THAT WAS FUCKING AMAZING! I NEVER FELT SO FUCKING ALIVE!"

Suddenly, the car that was chasing them sped passed the fence and off the cliff, flying into the air before crashing down just a few feet away from the two. A moment of silence passed before Ebon and Hotstreak burst out laughing at the car, with the latter wiping tears from his eyes and yelling, "Dumbasses!"

That laughter died a cold death when a fist came through the wrecked car, tearing it open as the passenger crawled out, covered in cuts with his suit in tatters. He coughed and got to his feet as his bones healed when he noticed Ebon and Hotstreak standing there in surprise.

"Good, finally caught up to you two." The agent said as he cracked his knuckles and neck, "Now, let's go." The MIB leapt at Ebon, driving his fist through the latter's chest, only to see that his fist didn't come out of the other side. Before he could react, Ebon materialized a pistol that he placed in himself at Palm Hill and fired it at the man's temple, blowing the fucker's brains out.

The agent choked, reeling back and pulling his arm out of Ebon but he remained on his feet. Puzzled, Ebon then fired into the guy's crotch, stomach, chest, and neck, causing him to stumble but still not fall. Suddenly, the wounds sealed like liquid as the agent blinked and then shook his head with a blubbering sound.

"Man, I'm never gonna get used to that." The agent shook the buzzing off as he focused on the two, "So, cat's out of the bag, eh? Well, that means I can do this." The agent's muscles then bulged causing his suit to shred apart, his skin began stone colored as thick fang-like spikes grew out from all over his body, his frame thickened and grew until it was another inhuman form. The agent now resembled a gorilla with a stone-colored carapace covered in fang shaped spikes, the uncovered areas had grey fur and his eyes were deep red. He stood on two legs while his knuckles were still on the ground.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The gorilla monster laughed heartily, flexing his arms while grinning arrogantly, "Been a while since I used this form! Ready to get some practice!"

The giant then threw an uppercut that sent Hotstreak flying into the air, almost breaking his jaw and stunning him briefly before the metahuman growled and used his flames to keep himself in the air, forming several orbs and sending them spiraling down on the monster before they exploded on impact, causing smoke to flow through the empty river. The smoke cleared to reveal the gorilla was unaffected as he laughed before reeling a fist back and throwing it so hard that created a sonic boom that knocked Hotstreak back further.

Ebon turned his arms to blades that he used to slash at the monster, but it had little effect other than amusing the latter. Hotstreak managed to make a comeback and delivered a thousand-degree spear of flames at the monster, exploding on contact and sending the monster back from the force but he recovered and then reared his arms back before clapping them hard, sending shockwaves that sent the two back.

Growling in annoyance at this thing's tenacity, Hotstreak conjured several fireballs at once before combining them all into one single orb and condensing it into a much smaller size and then launching it at the monster. The orb collided with the gorilla's chest, exploding and sending him skidding back but still unaffected, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

"HAHAHA!" The gorilla laughed heartily again, raising his fist to fight again, "Not bad, you two! Still no match for a Daemon Knight!" His fighting mood was interrupted when the three of them heard sirens. They turned to see numerous police cars and helicopters heading their way, almost to the bridge in fact.

"OH, SHIT!" The gorilla Knight yelled as he ducked under the bridge and began transforming back into his human form. As he did though, the Knight saw Ebon grabbing Hotstreak before both of them sunk into their own shadows and warped away to parts unknown.

Despite their escape, the Knight preferred that over what Mr. K would do to him if the public caught wind of their existence. Moving quickly, the Daemon Knight got a spare suit that he kept in the truck in case he ever needed to transform, quickly putting in on with the police arriving just as he finished buttoning his jacket. Bruce and the others got on the scene just a few minutes after that, having changed into a new and cleaner suit.

"What happened, Kurt?" Bruce asked his subordinate, now unnervingly calm as the clean-up crew got to work while the cops searched the area.

Kurt swallowed his fear and gave his report, lying about transforming into his alternate form. "We followed them to the river but when I got out of the car, they had... warped away to somewhere else."

"Then can you explain why I and everyone else saw and heard all kinds of explosions in the distance?" Bruce responded to Kurt's report, his expression displaying that he was completely unconvinced.

Kurt choked before he sighed in defeat, realizing that he was caught, "I had to defend myself, sir. But I wasn't lying about them escaping."

Bruce raised an eyebrow but simply took out a cigarette and lit it before he answered, "Whatever. None of the cops saw you, so we're good there. But remember, we're treading on a very thin line. So, keep whatever urges you got in your pants, or you get fed to the wolves." At Kurt's fearful nod, Bruce continued, "Now focus all your efforts into finding that shadow meta. If he can tell Daemon Knights from humans, then we are in a world of shit." He emphasized by flicking his cigarette away.

Kurt nodded his head and looked on to where those two had disappeared off to before he heard Bruce whisper to himself, "I promised I'll hunt you down, kid. And I'm a man of my word."

9 hours ago

Lucha Church

The Luchadors heaved the body of La Sentenza into the coffin and closed it behind them, all of them dressed appropriately for the occasion with suits and tuxedos though they still wore their masks and some of their suits matched the color of their masks.

"And to think he called us for backup!" El Diablo, who was dressed in a tuxedo and bowtie, clenched his fists in anger as Jesse placed a hand on his shoulder in sympathy, "If we had arrived just seconds earlier, he'd still be alive!" The other Luchadors roared in agreement raising their fists into the air.

"Come now, let's calm down and think clearly everyone." The Padre, an old priest with a black luchador mask, and Jesse placated the others, "For time immemorial, it's been our sacred duty to defend the world against threats, like how Justice League and other superheroes defend in the light! But we defend in shadow."

The Padre then murmured out as he stood on his podium, "Throughout the ages, our world has always had her shadow warriors, and our ancestors, whose blood runs through our veins, had to fight all sorts of demons. In times of peace, we amuse the public with our wrestling matches and public performances but the time for such distractions is past! They killed one of our own, so in other words; they just declared war!"

The Luchadors all roared in agreement with their fists in the air when suddenly Espirit, one of them with a white mask that had golden accents, saw a light coming from a glass case with several skull made of clear-cut diamond, "The Crystal Skulls! They are going to speak!"

"A new prophecy..." The Priest breathed out in shock. The Crystal Skulls were crafted by their ancestors, giving them the will of fate itself for them to alter when times of strife came.

Four Gods, four towers, four nights before the coming of the Ruinous powers.

Two Prophets; one of burning light, another of sequestering dark. One with skin of Onyx, the other with fire that willed the journey to embark.

A six legged army, they will aid and guide. To the Prophets, for they shall stem the tide.

The Golden One has returned, his light forever shall shine. His will to protect carries to the end of time.

"Onyx? What is that?" A sombrero wearing luchador with a white and red mask, Ultra Zapata, asked no one in particular.

Feliz answered while still staring at the skulls, "It is a precious stone, black as night."

El Tigre, a luchador who happened to have a tiger's head in place of a regular head, asked in utter bepuzzlement, "What nonsense is this? I don't get it!"

The light died down as the skulls became inactive once more as the Padre put his hands together and spoke, "The skulls have spoken. May God be with us all..."

Now you all in the audience may be asking, 'WHO THE HELL ARE THESE WRESTLERS?!" Well, ladies and gentlemen; it's time for a little history lesson.

The Wrestlers of the Lucha Ultima are the descendants of the Eagle and Jaguar Warriors of the Aztecs, who fought in the shadows, protecting the earth from invaders and threats for time immemorial. Then came the Conquistadors in their occupation of South America. But only known to them was the true history of that war.

During the final days of the Conquistadors' war against the Aztecs, the war was suddenly besieged by what both sides could only describe as a Golden God. Suddenly, the Conquistador gunpower weapons and steel tools of war were made worthless and destroyed with but a snap of the God's fingers, with golden flames blasting away their lines of soldiers and horses.

The Conquistadors fled as the Aztecs bowed to the Golden One, who followed them to their village, healing those afflicted with the foreign sicknesses and those with grievous wounds. Despite this, the Golden One spoke to the Aztecs, revealing that it was not their fate to remain in their cities. As such, the Aztecs fled their cities with the Golden One guiding them to what is now called Mexico where they settled in a more humble life.

Before he left, the Golden One tasked the remaining Eagle and Jaguar warriors with one task; do as they did for time immemorial, protect the world from the shadows.

The warriors held the order as if it was the very meaning of their existence, dedicating the lives of themselves and their descendants to protecting the planet they lived on. It would seem that the Golden One left them a final gift, many decades later; the Metagene, giving them power they could never imagine.

Though this, the Luchadors have protected the world from the shadows like their ancestors did before the end of their empire, fighting demons, aliens, monsters, and nightmares while the Justice League fought the others in the light.

And now, it's time for them to fight against Chaos.

2 hours later

Paqui's

El Tigre grumbled as he grabbed a can of Nuka Cola from the shelf and walked to the check out, they just buried La Sentenza in the cemetery. Sure, he may not have liked the fucker, but he was still a friend in the long run. Just shows him yet again how even if you're a metahuman, life just end like at the snap of God's fingers.

"THIS IS A STICK UP, MUTAFUCKA!" Some punk with a gun in each hand pointed at the cashier, "GIVE ME THE MONEY! OPEN THE FUCKING DRAWER! DON'TCHOO FUCK WITH ME! I TOLDJA TO HURRY YOUR FATASS!" The cashier pulled the drawer out in fear, but it only had about 25 bucks in it, much to the robber's exasperation, "You shitting me? THIS IS ALL YOU GOT?! I'M GONNA PUT A BULLET THROUGH YOUR BRAIN!" He was about to shoot the cashier when Tigre walked up beside him, causing him to stop and stare, "The fuck you looking at, Mutafu-"

The robber was then sent through the front window by an uppercut from El Tigre, shattering it and sending the punk into the sidewalk where some homeless people immediately began stripping him of his possessions.

Tigre growled in annoyance before looking to the cashier/owner, "Sorry about your window, but that asshole was asking for it. I just stopped by for a Coke... put it on my bill, willya?" The owner nodded fearfully as Tigre growled at the unconscious thug, "You sure picked the wrong day to piss me off, kid... I buried a friend of mine this morning ya stupid bastard..."

Idly, he saw that the fucker's iPhone had fallen out of his pocket and the impact cracked the screen but the article that was on the page was what caught his attention as he picked the device up. It was a sketch of the two who supposedly bombed the capital; one had skin black as night and the other had hair that seemed to be on fire.

Then his mind went back to the prophecy; Two Prophets; one of burning light, another of sequestering dark. One with skin of Onyx, the other with fire that willed the journey to embark.

"The Prophets..." Tigre muttered out loud, nearly dropping his can of Coke in shock.

Santa Verona

Headache hummed as he drove in his black Mustang with yellow flames down a part of DMC that was crime-ridden even by its standards, Santa Verona. A place ruled by the Aryan brotherhood and no one else, no Mexicans, no blacks, nobody. And that made it his favorite place to practice his skills.

'We need to prepare ourselves for a major confrontation. We've never had to deal with a situation like this before... it's gonna be our baptism in fire.' Headache though as he parked his car and walked out into the trailer parks, shamelessly showing off to all the men and women in the area that he was only wearing a yellow t-shirt that had PAIN printed on the front, leather briefs, leather wristbands, and leather boots with yellow laces.

'It's no longer a question of practicing amongst ourselves, no. We've repeated the same moves a thousand times over. No need to continue, we know them all by heart. These underworld pieces of shit could be anywhere. They're the most vicious beings in all of creation, and I must be prepared to fight them. And for that I have a plan; when it comes to vicious assholes, Santa Verona has then in spades.'

His attention was then thrown to a gang of shirtless heavily tattooed men that were beating up a clown mascot for some fast-food joint. Perfect.

"Hello, ladies!" Headache rang out in an effeminate tone that immediately gained the attention of the gang to turn to him. The very second their eyes laid on him, the gang stopped their assault on the clown and turned their knifes and blades on him.

"FUCKING MONKEY!" One of them yelled, bald like the others and brandishing a knife, "We're gonna send you back to the jungle in little pieces!" He slashed at Headache's shoulder, only for his knife to sink into his shoulder rather than cut.

"Chill out, Snow White! You're embarrassing the seven dwarves!" Headache mocked them before he punched the guy in the face so hard that blood immediately came bursting from the man's nose as he was sent into the ground. The wrestler than backflipped while kicking another one in the face before landing on his feet as another man came charging at him with a knife but he grabbed him by the cheek and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"Why the long face? Smile..." Headache then rammed his fist across the thug's face, sending him to the ground, "Life is beautiful!" The wrestler then jumped and thrust both legs out, nearly caving the man's face in before he landed on both feet and one hand. A fat ganger with knives in both hands came at him swinging before Headache twirled his body upwards with his hand balancing him as both of his feet thrust into the ganger's chest, sending him flying off his feet while puking his guts out.

Suddenly, the largest of the thugs tackled him into a wire fence before the wrestler extended his arm and grabbed the thug's shoulder, reeling himself in and wrapped his legs around the thug's throat. Using his strength alone, Headache twisted his body around so many times that resembled a wound spring before he body-slammed the thug hard to the ground with a loud crashing sound.

The thug was still conscious, able to pull himself up despite the pain and glared at the wrestler with blood spewing out of his nose. He roared out and managed to get to his knees, "I'M GONNA SHOVE THAT MASK DOWN YOUR GODDAMN THROA-!"

He was interrupted when Headache slammed his foot down on the thug's head, slamming him back into the ground and knocking him out, "Don't get so worked up, Amigo, it's bad for your health."

"Hey, you." Headache heard someone say as he turned around, only to see the clown they were beating up, dusting himself off and giving a grateful look, "Thanks."

Smiling under his mask, Headache gave a mock salute and walked off.

8 hours later

Hotel Destero

The Lucha Ultimate reconvened at a random hotel to discuss their findings on the whole thing, but first the Padre had to start. The men were either back in their costumes, still in their suits or tuxedos, or in casual wear.

"Gentlemen, we are facing a new dark age to the world; a force so subtle and influential that it can even blacken the brightest of souls. The time has come for us to act." The Padre told the others as it was time for them to resume their sacred duty.

"Frankly, I don't see what we could possibly do but I may have stumbled on a lead." El Tigre made his cynicism known but still answered, "I saw the mugshot of those two terrorists everyone is looking for... and they fit the description of the two prophets to a fucking T."

"Yeah, I saw them on the newspaper." El Diablo replied as he lite a cigar with his powers and took a drag, "Those two matched the description of the prophets but what about the six-legged army? There's been nothing about that."

"Hey, guys!" Feliz interrupted them and gained their attention, seeing him pointing to a TV, "Check out the news!" The luchadores turned to the massive flat screen in the room where a newscast was playing.

"In other news, the neighborhood of Palm Hill became a veritable war zone this afternoon. What incited the violence is, as of yet, unknown. Long-time rival gangs the Bloods and the Crips have joined forces against the police units called in manage the situation. And the violence appears to be spreading to nearby neighborhoods."

As footage of the riots played in the background, Joey then said, "Thank you, Sarah. Has there been any reported casualties?"

Offscreen, Sarah replied, "Sources say over 86 have been killed and 120 seriously injured. Residents are advised to stay indoors until further notice."

"Please stay safe out there, Sarah. We'll keep bringing you the latest updates as we get more information about the devastating riots playing out on the south side of DMC." Joey reports when a technician suddenly came in and placed a paper by his side, when he picked it up he immediately began reporting, "And, in a shocking new development taking place on the other side of town, our phone lines have apparently been flooded with eyewitness reports that a huge colony of insects has been seen leaving the city and heading in the direction of the desert. We do not yet understand the cause of this mass migration but in this journalist's opinion; If even the cockroaches are fleeing DMC, what hope remains for the rest of us?"

"The six legged army!" The Padre yelled as the other Luchadors looked at the screen in shock, "The prophecy is unfolding before our eyes!"

2 hours ago

Cross Street

Night had fallen on DMC and thankfully, it was quiet enough for Ebon and Hotstreak to sneak around unnoticed. Ebon had a stolen trench-coat and fedora on to hide his shadowy body while Hotstreak just had a tattered jacket and a fireproof baseball cap that covered his flaming head, though they were a little roughed have a huge brawl with a horde of homeless people... But that was a story for another time as the two got near Pipo's diner.

"Man, I really hope Pipo remembers that huge tip I left him..." Ebon said as the two stared on at the diner from behind the corner of the alley.

"You sure Pipo or Marshall won't turn us into the police?" Hotstreak asked his friend, suspicious, as Pipo was desperate for money and his psychotic assistant Marshall even more so.

"How long has it been since we ate something?" Ebon asked as he walked up to the diner along with Hotstreak after he looked around to make sure they weren't being followed. They got to the glass door they saw that while the lights were on, the diner was oddly quiet, save for one female customer.

"Is Pipo even here?" Hotstreak asked Ebon who didn't answer as he stared on in the diner, looking at the food that was being cooked by a man with short blonde hair, tattoos all over his body, and earrings on both ears, wearing a polo shirt and green apron, khakis, and red sneakers. It was Pipo's assistant, Marshall. "I am hungry." Hotstreak admitted to himself mostly but Ebon broke him out of his thoughts.

"It's her." Ebon muttered out. Hotstreak raised an eyebrow but saw what he was talking about. It was a woman with pale skin and long black hair, wearing a white sweater, green skirt, tall white socks, and brown polished shoes. She was eating some burritos and a meal when she seemed to notice the two.

"Who's that?" Hotstreak asked, confused as to who that was.

"Remember the accident two days ago?" Ebon reminded him, replying before he nodded, "I got distracted by her walking down the sidewalk and that's how I crashed into that truck."

"Her? Okay, she's hot but..." Hotstreak was cut off as Ebon opened the door after the woman gestured for them to come in. He wanted to yell at his cohort to wait, but decided to throw caution to the wind when he heard a police siren in the distance. The two sat by the woman at her insistence but Marshall was far less than welcoming.

"So, you two were the ones that bombed the capital of the state, eh?" Marshall muttered before he apathetically took out his notepad and pen, "Whatever. If Pipo found out I sold you two out, I'll be out of a job. So, what'll it be?"

"Just some Volcano Wings for me and a burger for Ebon." Hotstreak replied apathetically with Marshall just going back and making the order. While that was happening, Ebon was talking to the woman, who giggled at their story.

"Don't worry, I believe you." The woman known as Luna said to Ebon, "No offense but aside from your looks, you two don't seem like terrorists. Guys who would abuse their powers? Yes. But not terrorists."

"Gee thanks..." Ebon deadpanned before he trailed off and started staring at her food, which she took notice off.

Luna lightly snickered before pushing her plate to the two, "Here, you need this more than I do." Ebon only managed to take a fork full of lettuce before Hotstreak grabbed the plate and scarfed down the food like a hungry wolf.

At seeing his friend's annoyed expression when he finished eating, Hotstreak shrugged, "What? Running from the police works up an appetite. Besides, not my fault we had to sprint for 9 blocks."

"Oh, really? Remember when we had to fight and escape from all those homeless people?"

"He pulled a shiv on me!" Hotstreak retorted angerly. Ebon rolled his eyes but before they could get into an argument, he noticed something on the floor.

(John Carpenter's The Thing soundtrack- Humanity Part 2)

It was a shadow but another odd one; this one was just numerous tentacles that swayed listlessly, covering nearly the entire room in their immaterial grasp. Ebon stared on in shock before he trailed the tendrils to the source... which led back to Luna.

Seeing Ebon's stare at the woman, Hotstreak immediately put two and two together and shot up from his stool, forming an orb of fire in his hand and saying the unsaid statement, "She's one of them!"

Luna sighed and got up from her chair, giving a rueful look to the two, "I'm sorry, boys. I really do like you two, but I'm just doing my job."

Suddenly, her arm shifted into a black ichor before it deformed into a tentacle and shot at Hotstreak, hitting him in the chest and sending him through the doors of the diner as they shattered against his constitution. The force sent him tumbling to the street where dozens of MIBs including Bruce waited.

"Oh, god." Hotstreak groaned as they pointed their guns at him along with fire extinguishers. Meanwhile, Ebon barely had a chance to react as Luna's other arm shifted into a mace-like shape that smacked him upside the head, nearly knocking him out and sending him to the sidewalk as the shock caused him to be able to focus enough to turn intangible.

"Scary, huh?" Ebon heard Bruce say as he faintly saw him kneeling down next to him, "I remember the first time I saw them. I was scared too. But a few months into the job, I ended up scaring them. Promised I'd get you, kid and I'm a man of my word." Darkness clouded his mind as he fell unconscious.

(Music ends)

Seeing that the two were no longer a threat, Luna shifted her arms back to normal but frowned as she saw that the sleeves of her sweater were destroyed from her powers. "Ah, I liked this sweater." Luna whined, as they loaded an unconscious Ebon into a car and a struggling Hotstreak into a van while continuously spraying him with flame retardant. A look of regret came across her face, she really did like them.

Bruce lead her to a car as the others drove off to their base, unaware of a shocked Marshall who suddenly gained a murderous expression before he donned a hockey mask, grabbed a chainsaw, and reeved it at the remaining MIBs whom gave looks of shock and fear.

"BRING IT ON, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!" Marshall roared as he leaped fearlessly at the agents who began transforming in response.

The Governor's office

In her office, Governor Hoffman hummed as she signed papers that Mr. K gave her, who was standing at her side and looking down at her. Suddenly, yelling was heard from the outside the doors to her office, causing her and Mr. K to pause and turn to the doors. Just a few seconds later, Senator Richard Wilson, a blonde earnest man in a light brown suit and dark green tie, burst into her office, looking quite angry.

"Governor!" The senator marched straight to her desk, while she herself remained unmoving and calm.

"Is there something wrong, Richard? You seem upset." Hoffman asked the senator politely, despite knowing why he was here.

"We still have no proof whatsoever that the attack on the capital was caused by someone in DMC!" Senator Wilson slammed his fist on her desk causing her to jump while Mr. K remained stoic as ever, "Consequently, the President himself has been suspicious that the attack was staged! The construction of the wall makes no sense! And I will have no part in this blatant manipulation! What is your real motive?! This wall is not a sign of liberty, it is a sign of oppression, and you know it!"

"Richard, my dear Richard..." Hoffman sighed while looking down, understanding the senator's words but still unwavering in her dedication, "You are dealing with forces that you cannot understand even if you were a metahuman with superior intellect."

Senator Wilson's eyes narrowed, "Is that a threat, Governor?" Suddenly, a dart was fired from a MIB standing behind him, hitting the senator in the back of the neck. A second later, his heart caved in his chest as he vomited out blood and fell to his knees, clutching his torso.

"Nothing personal, Richard." The governor looked down at the dying senator with a rueful expression as he tried to strike at her when she got up and came closer to him, "But your inflexible scruples have put us in a delicate position." The senator spat out a spiteful glob of blood at the governor that struck her cheek before the last tethers of life snapped and he fell dead on her floor.

Governor Hoffman sighed and wiped the blood off her cheek with a handkerchief provided from Mr. K, still looking at the senator's corpse, ruefully, "I truly liked you, Richard. You had panache. It really does make me sad to see you end this way."

Mr. K then allowed a sinister grin to mare his face as he walked next to her, "But our plan is now in motion. You are either with us or against us..." He trailed off with a sinister chuckle as more of his Knights came and cleaned up the scene with nobody the wiser. After they finished cleaning those, the governor looked to Mr. K with a saddened expression.

"Mr. K, please." Hoffman almost looked desperate, "Do you swear that my family will be safe during the Invasion?"

Mr. K put a hand to her shoulder and gave the governor a reassuring look, "I assure you, Tirana, that I have no intention of going back on my word. But we must ensure that the Prophets will be on our side if we are to succeed."

As if on cue, the ringtone of his cellphone when off. Raising an eyebrow, the leader of the Knights pulled out his phone and answered, "Hello? ...You what?! ...Very well, I'll be right there." He hung up and turned to the confused governor, "Well, speak of the devil; they found the Prophets."

The governor's face brightened but kept her excitement in. Mr. K immediately left in quite an excited hurry.

Cross Street

A beaten and bloodied Marshall panted heavily as he collapsed onto the ground, his mask destroyed and his chainsaw almost out of gas as the surviving monsters in front of him reattached or regrew their severed limbs. The dead one dissolved into piles of shimmering multicolored haze while any unfortunate soul that had witnessed their fight was reduced to pulp so that they didn't spread the news.

Thankfully, there were no cameras, so they could transform without social media blowing up.

Still, Marshall didn't seem content to just lay down and die, reeving his chainsaw as he bellowed in psychotic fury and charged at the Knights, the lead one raising his clawed hand to strike. Suddenly, white bandages wrapped around the Knight's arm and yanked him back before a blast of white flames caved his face in.

Marshall and the other Knights blinked in surprise before headlights shining on them caused them to turn to a scene that the former would never forget in his life: the Lucha Ultima in several decked-out cars charging towards the Knights.

El Diablo let out a roar as his fist erupts into red flames before he plunged it into a purple Knight that looked like a cross between an octopus and a Xenomorph, ripping it in half and causing it to burst into flames. Thorny vines grew from Jesse Christ's arms that then shot out and impaled the nearest Knight before the vines ripped open its body. Becquerel Boy, a wrestler in a blue hazmat suit and wielding a concrete hammer, roared and channeled his radioactive powers into his hammer, ramming it into the head of a Knight that resembled a manticore, caving it in and unleashing a blast of energy that destroyed the rest of its body.

The Black Mummy and Headache backflipped behind a Knight that resembled a large troll with angel wings, the latter elastically extending his arms around the monster's neck and the former lashed his bandages that wrapped around its limbs, pinning it to the ground before El Tigre dove straight at him with his claws extended, impaling the thing's skull and ripping its brain out before throwing it to the ground so hard that it splattered.

Espirit shot spears of ghostly flames from his hands that left tire sized holes in the Knights that refused to heal before Feliz yelled, "Rose Razor Wind!" Suddenly, a pink aura surrounded Feliz before it lashed out in razor like shapes that slashed the rest of the Knights into pieces. The dead Knights burst into shimmering multicolored hazes that disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

Regaining their breath, the Lucha Ultima saw the entirety of the Knight's bodies dissolve into nothing before they saw Marshall, who was barely able to stand despite leaning on his chainsaw for support while gaping at them in disbelief.

"Hey, buddy!" Headache laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, "See, long story short; we're on a hunt for two guys that are destined to save the world while fighting demons that can disguise themselves as people. So, yeah!"

The other Wrestler's sweatdropped at Headache's words but Marshall's reaction was one that none of them expected, "How can I help?"

La Martine

A Channel 7 helicopter was flying above the street riots plaguing DMC while the reporter did her job as she tried to grasp the situation below her.

"What began as a peaceful protest against the upcoming martial law of DMC has deteriorated into an violent urban riot, after Section Z-7 opened fire on the crowd with high caliber weapons for reasons that have yet to be determined. All attempts to restore order, including the use of the controversial 'Stench Soup', which unintentionally drew thousands of rats into the streets of Dark Meat City, have been met with failure."

An explosion cut her off before she could continue with her report, smoke bellowing from the ground as shouts and shots were heard even in the sky. After a moment of hesitation, the reporter continued her report, "And after this recent bloodbath, the crowd of peaceful demonstrators has slowly degenerated into a rabid, hostile mob."

On the surface, one of the leading thugs reared his arm back with a piece of a tire in his hand, "Welcome to La Martine! How do you like it here, mutafukaz!?" He threw the tire at the Section Z-7 officers that missed before one of the officers fired out a canister that immediately began dispensing teargas. One bandana wearing thug armed with a metal baseball bat hit the canister back but not before his eyes watered from the gas.

Seeing that the rioters were being affected by the gas, the Section Z-7 officers opened fire on the crowd. Most were struck down by the bullets while others managed to get away as they were shrouded by the gas, sounds of the discharge echoing into the air where the reporter's heard it.

"The police are charging! A cloud of tear gas rains down on the crowd and... We hear gunshots! Yes, the police are launching an attack, and it looks like they mean business!" The reporter commentated as he followed events as they happened, "It is unclear whether the shots we just heard were warning shots, or if the police were aiming directly at rioters..."

Povera Heights: Willy's apartment

The broadcast showed an overhead shot of several neighborhoods in DMC while the riots played out; fires, gunshots, and people trashing everything around them while the Section Z-7 officers fired on the crowd.

"Oh! Bodies litter the ground... Oh, my god! A horrible massacre is taking place before our eyes!" The reporter commented when suddenly one of the officers began firing at the news chopper, "Holy fuck! And now the police are shooting in our direction! We are clearly not welcome here! We... We must sign off now-" A shot hit the side of the chopper, causing the reporter to let out a scream before the feed went to static.

The feed then switched to Joey Hankmen, who seemed at a loss for words for several moments before he managed to speak, "It... It would seem that we are having some technical difficulties... Well, I am told that we are now going live to speak with our special correspondent in La Martine." He then put a finger to his ear and spoke, "Melissa, can you hear me?"

The feed then switched to show Melissa Atkins, who was wearing a helmet and speaking loudly compensate for the gunshots in the background, "Yes, Joey, I hear you! Here in La Martine, chaos has taken over the streets! In La Martine and Palm Hill, increasingly violent incidents have been reported and the authorities have been overwhelmed! This climate of extreme tension has almost made us forget the latest news of the day: the terrorists that bombed the capital have been reportedly killed in a covert operation just an hour ago..."

Watching the newscast, Agent Crocodile gritted his teeth and glared at the screen, examining and inspecting his guns while packing them up for his confrontation with those two. Suddenly, a very familiar and very annoying voice rang out from behind him when he heard the last part of that sentence.

"NOOOOO! IVAN! FRANK!" Willy cried out in horror, tears streaming down his eyes as he trashed against the chains that Crocodile bound him in, "I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'RE DEAD! I mean, I never really liked Frank that much, but they were my only friends!"

"SHUT UP!" Agent Crocodile yelled to the sobbing bat, sick of his blubbering, "They aren't dead... that's just what they want us to think! They make us believe whatever they want. They're always one step ahead in this game, I'm just a pawn..."

"A poor pathetic pawn..." A voice piped through his ears, almost sounding like Willy but enough to greatly irritate the man.

"WHAT?!" Crocodile roared out, turning to Willy and brandishing a knife at the now terrified bat, "What did you just say to me?! Say that again! Who's pathetic?!"

Willy, now sweating bullets, had his hands up and pleading with his captor, "I DIDN'T SAY NOTHING!"

"This little shit just called you pathetic... You should gut him on the spot..." The voice piped through his head again, tempting him to gut the little bastard but Crocodile steeled himself enough to quell the temptation.

"I ought to kill you for what you just said." Crocodile growled as he held his knife in both hands and pointing it at Willy, "But for now, I need you alive. So, shut up, got it?"

Willy shivered in fear as he curled up in the corner, "Got it..."

Spitting in disgust, Agent Crocodile lowered his knife and looked back at the TV as Joey continued to do his job on the newscast, "And that guy on TV, he thinks he's so smart, too... That's the third time he's touched his ear like that in the past couple of minutes. I'm sure its one of those secret messages... Secret Service, Politicians, the media... they think they have any control of the situation. See, I used to work for them... I know what they are capable of."

Willy shivered, sweating bullets as Agent Crocodile walked back to his chair and watched the newscast, taping the barrel of an unloaded pistol out of boredom. Soon... very soon... he'd get his revenge.

19 hours later...

Route 666

The road in Route 666 was quiet as usual, the setting sun washing the road in orange light while the scorched sky had darkened into a breathtaking purple. The silence was then broken as the Lucha Ultima and Marshall sped down the highway.

El Diablo lead the charge on his motorcycle with Marshall in a new hockey mask following behind on his own motorcycle, while the others were in a red Buick and a pink Mustang and speeding just behind them. Beside the party was the vast trail of roaches that they were following through the Mojave Desert, confident that wherever they were going would lead them to the Prophets.

In the meantime, though, the men that weren't driving were bored out of their minds, looking around the desert to stave off the boredom while Feliz and Becquerel Boy played a game of I Spy.

"Hmm..." Feliz hummed as he looked over the desert, "I spy with my little eye, something that begins with F."

"Fern." Becquerel Boy answered with a beat, his arms crossed, and his annoyed expression masked by his costume.

"Damn! How'd you know?" The pink luchador questioned his friend.

"Because that's been your answer five times already." The radioactive luchador replied dryly.

"Yeah, this desert sucks." Feliz muttered in annoyance, leaning his chin to a hand.

"Pipe down back there, kids!" El Tigre yelled to the two in the back, shutting them up as he was messing with the radio while trying to hear the news, "I can't hear the radio! Sounds like there's some heavy shit goin' down!"

In the other car, Ultra Zapata, who had now replaced his sombrero with a fedora, muttered to mostly himself, "I don't where these roaches are leading us... They're supposed to hate the daylight, so if they're up and about like this in the middle of the day, some incredible, paranormal power must be guiding them. Something really amazing is going on out there, I just know it..." Panzer Bamo, a wrestler in a sick green mask and jumpsuit with his hair sticking out of the sides, nodded.

He was snapped out of his daydreaming when he heard El Diablo yell, "Hey, the roaches are changing directions!" Sure enough, the colony of cockroaches turned to a dirt road that stretched to an oddly shaped rock formation in the distance. "Looks like they know where they're going after all." The gang all drove to the dirt road after the roaches, but along the way, several signs showed that the route they were taking lead to a restricted area which could only mean that they were heading to the Forbidden Zone.

Headache wasn't afraid to voice his concern at this prospect, "We're heading towards the Forbidden Zone, aren't we? Isn't that kinda dangerous? I don't want to get radiation poisoning..."

Becquerel Boy scoffed and replied, "Relax, I was exposed to radiation when I was eight and it was no big deal. My doctor said I'm in great shape and that's also how I got my powers!"

"So, here we are, blindly following a column of insects..." Feliz suddenly decided to question the situation they were currently in, "Who are leading us to who knows where, and everyone thinks this is normal?"

"As normal as a guy with a tiger head driving an armored Buick full of wrestlers around the desert..." El Tigre fired back, not caring about the logic of the situation especially when he's had a tiger head since he was a child. Feliz gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Guys..." Black Mummy asked the others in the other car, more than a little worried, "I'm not sure we should be here."

"Eh! Calm down, you putas!" Jesse told the others, his confidence not at all shaking in the slightest, "Forbidden Zone or not, we have to follow our destiny! It is the will of the Crystal Skulls!"

'Shit! We're probably being bombarded with millions of Gamma Rays by now!' El Diablo thought to himself furiously as he looked to the column of roaches that they were following to wherever, 'These goddamn roaches might be resistant to radioactivity but I'm not... and I don't wanna grow a third testicle tonight in my sleep...'

"Uh, guys? This is really weird..." Becquerel Boy said out loud, sticking his head out of the car so that everyone can hear him, "My radioactivity sense should be going off like crazy right now... but I don't feel a thing. Nothing at all..." He trailed off as he slid back into the car.

"Who's complaining?" Headache said, relaxing in his seat with his armed behind his head and the zipper of his mask curling subtly into a smile, "I don't know about you, but I'm kinda digging this little nighttime ride through the desert with my boys..." He said in a suggestive tone that caused Tigre to sweat slightly that the implication.

"UH, GUYS!?" Feliz interrupted that before it could take off, pointing to something that was quickly approaching them. Headache and Tigre narrowed their eyes as they leaned in to get a closer look only for their eyes to nearly bulge out of their skulls when they saw what it was. The thing was an assault chopper. And its guns were pointed at them.

Tigre and Zapata swerved out of the way as the chopper fired its guns while Marshal and Diablo sped past it. The chopper swerved around and fired its guns at Diablo and Marshall, when suddenly the latter jumped onto the former's cycle. "Launch me!" El Diablo gave a grin as an answer before he chucked Marshall into the air, whom had his saw at the ready.

The psychotic man laughed as he chucked his chainsaw at the pilot of the chopper, who's face gained a comically terrified expression just seconds before the saw penetrated the windshield and reducing the man's face to chucks of blood and meat, but his hand hit the button that launched the chopper's missiles. The chopper took a nosedive into the ground before it exploded into a blast of pink flames, taking his beloved saw with it.

The Luchadores all saw that they couldn't outrun the missiles so they bailed out of their vehicles with only seconds away from the projectiles colliding. The cars were blasted away into swathes of pink flames, while the Lucha Ultima rolled onto the ground, extinguishing the flames while only covered in cuts and light burns and damaged to their costumes and clothes.

Marshall managed to land on a patch of weirdly soft sand that cushioned his fall, leaving him to groan slightly in pain. "I quit my job for this..." Marshall uttered out... before he broke into an ecstatic cheer, "IT WAS SO FUCKING WORTH IT!" El Diablo approached him and gave him a hand up, getting the psychotic man to his feet as the other luchadores were stomping on the Black Mummy to extinguish the flames that were burning him.

"Everyone okay?!" Espirito yelled out, before the other luchadores sounded off as they all seemed uninjured aside from the damage to their clothes.

Feliz had a hand to his brow to block the light from the flames, narrowing his eyes to get a better look, "The roaches are still heading towards that mountain! We should be able to-" He cut himself off when he saw some approaching headlights and yelled out, "EVERYONE HIDE! WE GOT COMPANY!"

Seeing the approaching headlights, the others got behind whatever cover they could, either behind bushes, the sand, or even behind some of the flames. A few minutes, a white security van came by before its occupants came out with flashlights and searched the wreckage for survivors. Whenever the guards saw the luchadores, they played dead as to not blow their cover.

When the guards seemed convinced that no one survived, one of them pulled out a walkie talkie and radioed the base, "Nothing to report. Everything is under control. Over." El Diablo and Becquerel Boy shot from the cover, the former ramming his fist into the guard's face before the latter smacked another upside the head with his hammer. The other luchadores jumped out of their cover and took out the rest of the guards.

El Diablo took off his destroyed white shirt, exposing the eye tattoos on his back while watching the rest of his friends beating down the guards. 'These poor fools haven't even been trained. It's like fighting a bunch of rabid Pitbulls loose on a playground. I almost feel bad...' He then saw his friends fighting together especially Jesse and El Tigre, 'It's funny to see how a team works together in the face of adversity... how each of us goes beyond his own limits, inspired by his teammates' actions...' His gaze then turned to Marshall who was beating a guard almost to death, 'And how even the average man can be inspired to take up arms by our actions... even if most people aren't psychopaths like Marshall.'

The devil themed luchador was driven off his trail of thought when Jesse Christ spoke, "C'mon, El Diablo! What are you waiting for?" He turned to see the wrestlers and Marshall getting into the van that was now void of guards, giving them the opportunity to sneak in.

He scoffed and replied as he entered the truck, "Calm down, girls. Don't get your panties in a bunch..."

With everyone in the van and the doors closed, El Tigre slammed on the gas pedal and the vehicle sped off to the mountain. The tiger headed wrestler growled out, "I get the feeling that we are almost there..." He trailed off when he saw a red light in front of them, "Huh? What's that red light up ahead?"

XXX

At the entrance, the two guards, dressed akin to the national guard, watched as only one of the two vehicles sent out came back to the base. Despite the destroyed assault copter, they radioed that there were no survivors but still something was off.

"The van is coming back alone..." The lighter skinned guard muttered out as he and the other one looked at the rapidly approaching van, scratching his head, "That's strange..."

"I'm calling headquarters!" The darker skinned guard yelled out of paranoia before the other guard halted him.

"Wait, just calm down. There must be..." He trailed off when the van wasn't slowing down, realizing that something was wrong, "Call headquarters! RED AL-" The guard was cut off when the van reduced both of them to slurry before rushing through the passageway.

Golgotha

Ebon slowly awoke from whatever hit him, vaguely remembering what happened at Pipo's diner before reality snapped back to him.

He was in a truly massive room, grey with metal and machinery as sounds of fans and purring of engines piped through his ears, and the vague feeling of dozens of sensors placed on his head. A pale baleful light shined down on him like the eyes of ancient horrors while he then noticed that the chair he was sitting on was connected to a pillar that extended into the darkness below.

It was only when his vision cleared that he saw more; machinery composed every inch of the vast structure, running ceaselessly while a ring of walkways stretched around the room. Around him was a machine connected to the ceiling and the machine connected to his head, resembling the beak of a crow that was about to close and bite down.

Blinking sluggishly, Ebon turned his gaze upwards to see that the sensors were connected to a massive machine above him when suddenly the sound of static caught his attention. It was a massive amount of screens that nearly encompassed the entire wall, showing the gravel skinned man that was always by the governor's side, having his fingered folded and resting his head on them while giving a grin to him.

"Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Ivan Evans." Mr. K spoke out, the intercoms amplifying his voice to great volumes but his name echoes through the room.

"WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Ebon yelled out to Mr. K, who's grin only widened.

"Inquisitive young man. The real question is who are you?" Mr. K responded in a cryptic manner, intentionally confusing the shadowy being before beginning his speech, "You, Ebon, are a being unlike any other in this world. I imagine you've always known that, deep down. But where are my manners? You may call me, Mr. K. I am of the chosen known as the Daemon Knights, mortals uplifted and ascended through the darkness of the immateria."

Ebon blinked before the stone skinned man continued on, "You are the Prophet of Darkness, one of the two prophesized to banish the knights to the Empyrean, unable to join the God's grand victory over this world." He then began on the prophecy and all it entailed, "Before our sojourn to this planet, the Marquis of Locusts gave us a warning from the Fateweaver himself; telling of two prophets, one that controls light of the sun and another that weaves the shadows of the universe. The Marquis of Locusts told us that if we were to bring the Prophet of Darkness into our fold, then the conquest of earth would be as simple as snapping one's fingers. And here we found your wretched existence in a wretched city, surrounded by wretched people who despise each other for no reason."

The shadowy metahuman just stared blankly at Mr. K, not understanding a fucking lick of what this man was rambling on about.

"Upon returning to your cell, you will kill the Prophet of Light and join us for the conquest of the planet." Mr. K commanded the shadowy metahuman, his words worming their way into his head and twisting his thoughts, "Kill him and take your rightful place as the Prophet of Darkness in the grasp of the Gods. Abandon your humanity and guide us in our crusade."

Ebon's grip on reality seemed to waver as he lowered his head, unable to refute anything that he heard and barely able to speak while vaguely hearing Mr. K utter out, "He's almost ready. You may send in Luna."

Suddenly, a grinding sounds was heard as a platform outfitted with hoverpads ascended to his level. Rigidly, Ebon forced his head up and turned his sight to the platform, confirming that its occupant was Luna, who looked at him with both sympathy and sorrow. She was dressed in a black sweater, green pants, and black shoes.

"Ivan... you must be so confused... and I am so so sorry." Luna looked at the man before her in sorrowful remorse, taking his hand into hers as it deformed into a black ichor and spread all over his hand, "I experienced the exact same thing as you. You need accept the Gods. They can give you more than you could ever imagine. Please, Ivan... This is your destiny."

Ebon's eyes turned a stark white as white hot cracks spread across his face, making a crackling sound like broken ice. Luna blinked in surprise for a moment before her expression softened as she embraced him, "You and I can do great things together." The shadow did not embrace her back, but she heard a few words bubble from his voice, soft yet dead.

"I must kill Frank..."

Mr. K chuckled as the grin on his face grew before he continued on, "No point fighting it. Our war against the Justice League and the GDF has already been won. DMC was just phase one. We've already begun infiltrating the economic and financial strata of the Government and GDF. We are in your police force, on Wall Street, even in the White House, though we have not gained presidency. Our presence in Congress allowed us to continue our global operations in secret. Cruelty, greed, corruption. The Earth is our playground. We Daemon Knights feed off the bounty of negative energy that manifests in the Warp, seeping like magma from mankind's every pore. And believe me, when it comes to negative energy, humanity's supply of it is truly inexhaustible."

Ebon was now silent as Luna let go, his body still as a glass statue before the white cracks spread to the rest of his body like a shattered pane of glass. The silence was then broken when he groaningly bubbled out, "Must kill Frank..."

Luna put a hand to her heart, wondering why it skipped a beat when he said that.

Mr. K's Office

"It's alright. He's just in shock." Mr. K reassured his daughter as he watched through the screen in his office with Governor Hoffman, Bruce, and General Crozier at his side, "Release him. Take him to the cell where the Prophet of Light is waiting. Let him make his own choice. For the first time in his miserable existence, Ivan will be given the gift of freedom. And if the Prophet of Light is still alive in the morning, kill them both."

"Mr. K, with all due respect, why even keep him alive in the first place? Both of the Prophets are a threat." General Crozier asked the man who he supposedly called his superior with Bruce nodding in agreement.

"Mr. K, I must agree with the general. Powerful as the Prophets may be on our side, should they turn on us, we will have an even bigger problem." Bruce agreed with the general's assessment. Mr. K merely breathed through his nose and stood up from his desk, looking to the general with a condescending expression.

"Do you know what the differences between our races are, General Crozier?" Mr. K asked and then answering before the general could reply, "While you humans wantonly massacre each other all over the globe, we Knights holds the lives of our brothers and sisters in the highest respect, regardless of circumstance. Do you understand?"

"Don't be so condescending. It seems to me that our self-destructive tendencies only allow you to strengthen your authority." General Crozier retorted, not at all amused by the Knight's holier than thou attitude, "Are you aware of Murphy's Law, sir? 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.' So with all due respect, I believe this situation requires a more pragmatic approach."

If Mr. K was annoyed, he did a remarkable job of hiding it as he answered the General's question, "Yes, General, I am very much aware of Murphy's Law. But I know a tiger when I see one, and believe me, this one has the potential to become the deadliest of predators. For now, he is to be confined to a cell along with his friend. And I guarantee you, his friend will not survive another hour."

"Very well." The general curtly replied and walked off, not wishing to spend another second with the Knight's leader. Mr. K kept him composure and then looked to the governor and Bruce.

"Mr. Maccabee, inform the Z-7s to begin preparations for the tribute." The leader of the Daemon Knights replied to his top enforcer who nodded, before he then turned to the Governor, "Governor Hoffman, prepare a speech for the inevitable public backlash."

Bruce and Governor Hoffman nodded before the two walked out of the room. The governor however let Bruce go ahead as she pulled out her phone, looking at the screensaver, a picture of her, her husband, and her son and daughter all in a happier time. A rueful expression crossed her face before she steeled herself and walked off.

Hotstreak's Cell

Hotstreak let out another roar as he unleashed another torrent of flames onto the walls, only for the same thing to happen; the tiles exuded a dark oily substance that doused the flames and cooled the metals. Steam filling the cell that would have made it seem like a bathhouse had he been in Japan. Soon, whatever extra light was made by the smoldering tiles faded with only source of light in the cell was the flames coming from his head.

"Fuck..." Hotstreak seethed, running a hand through his hair and trying to think of a different plan of escape because clearly trying to burn through the walls wasn't working. Suddenly, the door of his cell opened to reveal Ebon who was shoved in with the door closed before either could react.

The flaming metahuman was not pleased to see his friend, crossing his arms and scowling at him, "Well, lookie, lookie; you thought with your dick and here we are in God knows where! Stuck here with guards and cameras and shit! Makes Guantanamo look like a fucking Girl Scout retreat! What do we do now?!" Ebon didn't react at all to his friend's rambling, still staring off into space with the cracks in his skin pulsing like a heartbeat. Hotstreak narrowed his eyes in suspicion and anger, "What's with this silent treatment?"

The shadowy being then turned to him with nothing but a blank stare.

Mr. K's Office

The camera feed showing the hallway of Ebon's cell where two guards were standing watch by the door. Suddenly, a scream was heard from the inside of the cell, causing the guards to turn to the cell doors in surprise. They looked at each other for a second before the door was ripped off its hinges and crush one of the guards to a bloody paste. The other guard looked into the cell, only for several dark tendrils to impale him through the head and chest before the guard's body was then flung to the wall and splattered like a balloon filled with blood and organs.

A few moments later, Ebon hovered out of his cell with the bottom half of his body now a shadowy mass of tendrils. He then deformed his arm into a tentacle that destroyed the camera, reducing the feed to static.

Watching the feed was Mr. K and Luna, the latter having an expression of shock and awe with her hands over her mouth while the former just grinned sinisterly as he curled his fingers and rested his chin on them. "Good, very good." He purred out.

Suddenly, an alarm went off causing the two to stop and look on in confusion. The screen above the static feed shifted to one of the head guards who looked quite scared to upset his master, "My lord, we have a security breach reported at checkpoint 4-C."

That most certainly did upset Mr. K, "A security breach?! How is that possible?!" He didn't wait for the head guard to respond as he pressed a button on the panel in front of him, switching the feed in the hanger. The doors blocking off the accessway to the inner parts of the facility had been smashed open. The feed was then switched to one of their vans smashing the gates. Narrowing his eyes, he turned a dial on the panel that rewinded and zoomed in on the van's driver.

It was El Tigre and the Lucha Ultima.

Growling, he slammed his fist on a button while yelling, "Mobilize all units!" Klaxons and red lights flooded the facility as Luna wordlessly walked to the hall, trying to understand why she couldn't stop thinking about Ebon and why her heart started to hurt.

Golgotha Lab 7

Several guards boarded on a tram as the one in the back yelled to the others, "Ok boys, let's go have a look at what's going on. Probably just another group of curious kids." He then turned to the one by the doors to the labs, "Steve, stay here and keep an eye on the senior citizen's club. You should be able to handle them without too much trouble. If we don't come back soon, you can always play bingo to pass the time!"

The guards all share a laugh as they sped off, leaving Steve alone to guard the scientists. He then opened the gates to the labs, showing several scientists in suits and lab coats standing around and looked quite scared. Steve grinned sadistically as he cocked the slide of his pistol, "I'm warning you wrinkly old fuckers, right now! The first one who tries anything gets a bullet to the head! I won't hesitate for a second! So, get your asses back to work! It's business as usual, got it?"

Suddenly, a dart filled with a dark blue liquid hit his jugular before its contents emptied into his body. Steve yelped and pulled out the dart but suddenly started to spasm, falling to the floor while his vein's started to become a bright blue. Blue foam started forming from his mouth as he looked to see a diminutive old scientist with wild white hair walked up to him with an angry glare.

"You Knights aren't as invincible as you think." The scientist glared down at Steve as the latter attempted to grab his gun and shoot the scientist, "Modified blue-ringed octopus venom. I doubt it will kill you due to your regenerative abilities, but it will leave you unable to act for the next few hours." He then turned to the other scientists and yelled, "We make our escape now or never!"

The other scientists didn't move in fear, like defying the people that held them captive and treated them like slaves was a concept unfathomable to them.

"You ignorant sheep." The scientist growled out, cursing Stockholm Syndrome in its entirety before he bolted out of the lab and into the facility, hoping to escape while he still could.

Section 8

Several more guards fired at an approaching Ebon, their bullets passing through him like liquid before his arms deformed into tendrils that impaled all the guards in fatal spots as they went limb. Ebon flung the bodies away as his arms returned to their normal shape before he looked around the hallway. No cameras. Perfect.

Ebon then looked at his chest and said to no one, "All right, you can come out." Suddenly, an arm shot out from Ebon's chest and grabbed the nearest grabbable object, a handle shaped pipe, before it pulled tautly to reveal Hotstreak who gasp for breath and fell to the floor.

"Ahhh... God, it was like being drenched in liquid nitrogen in there." Hotstreak groaned/shivered as he stood up and activated his powers to heat himself up, moaning in relief before a bloodthirsty grin crossed his face, "That's better. Let's torch these fuckers!"

Both of them yelled as they let their powers loose on more of the guards came in, Hotstreak burning them to charred corpses and Ebon used the shadows to slash them apart. The two then dashed through the halls of the facility before abruptly stopping when they heard several gunshots, yells, and blows landing. They looked at each other before they noticed a patrol of Section Z-7 officers approaching but oddly not turning in their direction as they were preoccupied with firing at something down the hall that they were in.

"The fuck are they shooting at?" Hotstreak asked Ebon, who shrugged just as confused as him.

Suddenly, Hotstreak's question was answered as the bodies of several other Z-7 officers were thrown at the living ones before the Lucha Ultima appeared and started throwing down with Pipo's assistant Marshall assisting them with a rifle that he stole from one of the bodies.

"The Lucha Ultima!? Marshall?!" Ebon yelled out in shock at these current events while Hotstreak just had a deadpan expression.

"That's it; this is officially the most ludicrous day of my live." He then gained a bloodthirsty grin again and yelled out, "AND I LOVE IT!" Hotstreak jumped headfirst into the fight, lashing out his flames at the Z-7 officers, effectively giving the luchadores another edge in the fight. But Ebon didn't join in as he saw his roaches approach him like pets finally finding their lost master.

"Huh. Missed you little guys." Ebon chuckled as the roaches all surrounded him happily, "Come on, let's go." The shadowy metahuman rockets towards the officers with his arms deformed into blades. Unseen to him, was that one of the roaches pulled out a glowing red pill shaped object from Ebon's neck.

Jesse impaled several officers with his thorns, El Diablo pierced the torso of two officers with a mighty roar and his flaming fists, Headache elastically wrapped his arms around an officer's head before wrenching it clean off the neck, Feliz let out a yell as his Rose Winds slashed into two officers that were bloodily sent into the walls, the Black Mummy slashed the necks of two officers with his bandages, and Becquerel Boy merely used his hammer as to not endanger his friends with his radioactive powers.

El Tigre roared as he transformed into a massive tiger and chomped down on a group of unfortunate guards, Ultra Zapata's body was coated in bright red energy that took the form of a samurai with a mighty sword that swarmed the opposing hallway with bright red flames as guards swarmed the corridor, Panzer Bamo blitzing two other officers at speeds that made him appear as a blur, and Espirito fired twin beams of ghostly fire that fried the rest into smoldering piles of boiling metal and flesh.

After they dealt with the guards, who were sent screaming back to their masters, Ebon and Hotstreak hi-fived and laughed before they noticed the luchadores were looking at them like they were gods.

"The Prophets..." Jesse breathed out before he then got on his knees with the other luchadores following his lead. Ebon and Hotstreak looked at each other in shock before the former formed several tendrils and grabbed all the guns and grenades from the fallen Z-7 officers before placing all the weapons in his body, knowing it would store them safely.

"You can praise us later! We have to go before more troops show up!" Ebon yelled as the Luchadores all nodded and the group took off running before Feliz then realized.

"Uh, guys? Anyone remember the way out of here?"

The group stopped and realized their predicament before El Diablo yelled while pointing to a random hallway, "This way!" The group sped down before any of them had a chance to question it until they reached a pair of elevators, but due to the alarm, both were likely disabled and unusable or were about to come with a fuckton of guards.

"Shit! A dead end!" Hotstreak yelled as the group skidded to a halt at the sight of the elevator.

"Aw, damnit! We took a wrong turn!" Ultra Zapata yelled in frustration while mentally trying to come up with a plan, "Quick! Turn back-" He was cut off when he heard the elevator ding and the light above it to activate, signaling that one was approaching. The group raised their fists and weapons in case it was more troops from Z-7 until the elevator doors opened to reveal the diminutive old scientist.

The group were quite caught off guard, but they didn't relax their stances before Becquerel Boy asked the golden question, "Who's this guy?" To his surprise though, the scientist immediately answered that question.

"I'm your ticket out of here."

Mr. K's Office

One of the commanding officers, Colonel Cosette, barged into Mr. K's office, surprising the man before the former shouted out, "Sir! We have a big problem! A commando team is trying to liberate the Prophets! They just neutralized an entire Z-7 detachment!"

Mr. K remained composed as he turned to one of the screens that showed a red dot on the map of the facility, "They won't get very far. We planted a tracking device on our prisoners. We can pinpoint their locations with absolute precision." The zoomed into the dot's position, Elevator 3C, "They are in Elevator 3C, on their way to sub-level one. Send the troops to Sub-Level One!"

The colonel nodded and sprinted out of the room.

The Elevator

Once they all got into the elevator and set it to Sub-Level One, Espirito asked the scientist while pointing to him, "Who are you and why are you helping us?" The group was still understandably skeptical that the old man would help them out of the goodness of his heart.

The scientist nodded and answered the wrestler's question, "I am Professor Vincent Fagor and I have been their prisoner for six years! I took advantage of the ambient chaos to make my way to you, and I have every intention of getting out of here, too."

"Why do you want to get out of here?" El Diablo asked as he crossed his arms, still quite skeptical of the scientist, "And how can you help us?"

"I'll explain how I can help you save this planet but first..." Professor Fagor looked to the indicator, along with the group when they saw that they were at their destination, "We need to get out of here alive..."

Sub-Level One

While the group was in the descending elevator, a massive squad of guards descended the stairs to Elevator 3C, armed to the teeth and arriving at the elevator with their guns pointed at the doorframe, ready to fire if it so much as twitched.

"There they are! Get ready to fire!" The leader yelled with his phone showing the tracker's location in his hand. They tensed, fingers around the triggers and barrels pointed at the doors. The doors opened... only for it to empty, not the Prophets, not luchadores, not even Professor Fagor. Except for a small red blinking light.

The troops lowered their guns in confusion as the leader of the group entered the elevator, picking up a small pilled shaped object that glowed bright red. Judging by the frantic beeping of his phone, this was the tracking device. But where were the Prophets?

"Negative. I see the tracker but there's no one here!" The leader signaled his commander, who yelled what did he mean, "I mean, the elevator's empty! There's nothing! No targets in sight!" Suddenly, a panel on the roof of the elevator began to shake, causing the soldiers to look up in confusion.

"What the-?" Suddenly, the panel burst open, revealing a tidal wave of cockroaches that fell onto the shocked guards, "HOLY FUCK!"

Hanger 4C

Meanwhile, the actual elevator carrying the Prophets and the others opened to a hanger holding massive amounts of armored vehicles.

Professor Fagor stepped out and lead the group around the hanger where the vehicles were, "Here we are!" He motioned the group to the vehicles around them, "Each of these vehicles is equipped and battle ready. All we need to do is to help ourselves."

Suddenly, a voice rang out from somewhere in the hanger, "They're here! I heard them! Send back up now!"

Hearing that, the group got behind some of the vehicles with Panzer Bamo looking past a clearing to see several MIBs with their guns out and approaching them from the southside, "Shit! They found us!"

"Not for long!" Ebon said as he pulled out several smoke grenades that he stole from the Z-7 troops, yanking out the pins and throwing them all over the hanger. In just moment, the hanger was slowly enveloped in white smoke, obscuring the group from the MIBs and the cameras around the hanger.

"Careful! They're using smoke grenades! Keep your eyes open, they could be anywhere!" They heard the MIBs yell before the group slowly crept to whatever vehicle they could commandeer with Panzer Bamo using his speed to deal with the others.

One MIB saw him through the smoke, but Panzer grabbed the gun in the former's hand and yanked it out before delivering a punch to the stomach, ribs, and head, causing the man to fall to the ground with blood spewing out of his nose and mouth. Behind another, Headache delivered an elbow strike to the MIB's jaw, causing his head to nearly snap off the neck. Panzer then uppercutted the leader of the group, sending him flying while Headache then grabbed the sides of the last remaining MIB before snapping his neck.

Suddenly, Headache noticed something.

"Hey, where's Diablo?" Headache asked Panzer, who looked around the smoke-filled hanger.

"Better fucking question: where's everyone else?"

Diablo was lost in the smoke as it was so thick that he may need to use his powers to disperse it. Suddenly, two arms wrapped around El Diablo's neck. The devil themed luchador struggled against the Knight, stepping out of the smoke and getting a few of the dipshit. It was a short skinny man with dirty blonde hair and a serpentine-like face, he was missing the upper part of his suit with only the lower half being covered by a pair of black dress pants and dress shoes. The man was likely a Knight given the slit-like pupils and lack of irises in his eyes and the utterly evil grin on his face.

"You picked the wrong target, dipshit." El Diablo growled as he threw the blond Knight over his shoulder in an arm lock. However, the Knight's arm bent like rubber as he landed on his feet. Just as the wrestler let out a noise of confusion at this, the Knight chuckled in a raspy and high-pitched voice.

"Did you really think a simple arm lock would on me?" The Knight chuckled before he twisted his body out of the arm lock and wrapped his arms around Diablo's neck and his legs around Diablo's chest, like a snake constricting its prey, "Stupid brute! My whole body is as flexible as rubber!" His mouth deformed into a maw of teeth and his tongue distended as it licked his mask.

El Diablo struggled against the Knight's grip, who grinned and began constricting the wrestler's windpipe while monologuing in a deep and seductive voice, "Don't bother struggling. Just relax... Soon, when my tongue pierces your juggler, I'll slowly sup the blood out of your body like a vampire. Moments after you'll lose consciousness, but it'll be like sipping into a bath that you'll never get out of~"

Diablo started coughing from the smoke and got to his knees, causing the Knight to pout in disappointment as his face shifted back to normal, "Already? I thought you'd be tougher than this..." He then sighed in disappointment, "You're a smoker, aren't you?"

Suddenly, El Diablo roared as he grabbed the Knight's limbs before he wrenched the freak off of him, throwing him to the ground that left a small crater in the floor. In a moment though, the reaction from the Knight was one that El Diablo never expected; he began laughing an insane and delightful laugh.

"YES!" The blond freak bellowed out, leaping to his feet as the sounds of broken bones sliding back into place rang with his body wriggling in excitement, "HURT ME HARDER! HURRTTT MMEEEEEE PLENTTYYYY!"

The Knight leapt at Diablo, his body bloating and expanding as his fist came down on the wrestler before the latter backflipped out of the way and fled to his friends and the Prophets, with the force of the punch temporarily clearing the smoke to reveal the blond freak's new form. The Knight now resembled a nude obese man with pale distended skin, mouths of yellow fangs on his palms, a head of grey and purple exotic eyes, and violet hooved feet.

"Oh, shit!" Diablo heard Espirito yelp as the transformed Knight came after them. Marshall let out a psychotic yell as he fired his gun, but the shots only bounced off the monster's skin like rubber, Feliz's Rose Wind and Jesse's thorns barely seemed to even leave scratches. The obese Knight laughed as he brought his fist down, destroying several vehicles as the wrestlers flipped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the crushing force of his punches.

"HEY PUNK!" The Knight turned to see Headache jumping into the air before he threw a flurry of punches with his elastic abilities closing the distance. His fists hit each of the monster's eyes with the speed and force of a Gatling gun, causing each and every eye to burst into fluid. The monster screamed in joyous pain with its newfound blindness giving them time to escape.

The wrestlers commandeered a vehicle with El Tigre in the driver seat and Ultra Zapata in the passenger seat, the latter yelling to the others, "EVERYONE IN THE BACK! LET'S GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE!" The wrestlers dove into the vehicle while the Professor, the Prophets, and Marshall climb in and the latter getting up to the turret on top.

"BUCKLE UP! IT'S GONNA BE A HELL OF A RIDE!" El Tigre roared before his foot slammed on the gas pedal. The vehicle's tires reeved as it sped towards the exit, swerving away from the still stumbling, transformed Knight, who had just started regrowing his eyes. When several troops came to the exit to block them, Marshall let out another psychotic yell as he pulled the turret's trigger, sending spears of searing hot lead at the approaching soldiers, shredding the unprepared guards into bloody piles of flesh and bones before they even had a chance to react.

"WHOOOOO!" Marshall hollered, raising his fist to the sky like a cowboy twirling his hat, "I FEEL SO ALLIIIIIIVEEEE!"

The group sped off into the exit tunnel with the force of the tires leaving a trail of smoke and dust in the air. Unseen to them, one of the soldiers survived the onslaught from Marshall managed to get to his feet, holding a bazooka and shakingly aiming it at the fleeing vehicle... before he was then shot in the heart. Before he fell dead, his finger squeezed the trigger causing the bazooka to fire as he fell backward.

The missile hit the side of the wall and exploded, sending fire and debris around the hanger and causing the sprinklers to activate and everyone that was still alive to act go in the remaining vehicles to stop them. The Knight was slowly reverting back to his human form and fall unconscious after he got into a suit that he stole from one of the unconscious MIBs.

Unseen to everyone, Luna was standing in the tunnel with a handcannon in her hands with tears in her eyes as she watched the vehicle carrying the Prophets sped down the path away from this place.

"Run, Ivan... Run." Luna whispered out. Despite it being so recent, the first time she saw Ivan on that bike was love at first sight. At first, she was skeptical there was such a thing as love at first sight, when that it happened to her, it was best feeling in the world. Now, she knew what one man said when love makes you do stupid things.

Suddenly, another vehicle sped past her along with several others, chasing after the Prophets.

Back with the group, Feliz looked through the windows of the vehicle's back doors to see the battalion of vehicles coming after them. After the door stopped several shots from the leading one's turret, Feliz yelped in surprise, "Ah, shit! We got a goddamn battalion on our tail! We're gonna get ourselves killed!"

Before Marshall could swivel the turret to face behind them and fire at them, Becquerel Boy readied his hammer and spoke with a determined expression under his mask, "Open the door, I'll handle this."

With a reluctant nod from Feliz and incredulous look from the others, the doors were swung open. Suddenly, Becquerel Boy's tinted visor began to glow green as he tensed his entire body. A fraction of a second later, a large blast of radiation burst from his visor, incinerating the leading vehicle into a charred and searing mess and stopping the rest in their tracks as they piled up in the tunnel.

The group whooped in victory as the vehicle sped out of the tunnel and into the desert.

Mr. K's Office

The leader of the Daemon Knights growled as he saw from the monitors of the pile up in the tunnel of Wing B. Slamming his fists onto his desk, Mr. K roared out in frustration, "Why am I surrounded by such incompetence?! Stop that vehicle by any means necessary!"

"Sir!" A voice came from the radio, "They are now heading towards the exit in Wing B-"

"CLOSE ALL EXITS! THE PROPHETS MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO ESCAPE!"

"Negative, sir..." The voice nervously replied, scared as to report the situation, "The Central Command System is down. An... An army of roaches has infested the automatic closing device! There's hundreds of them! It's unbelievable!"

"Roaches... The six legged army!" Mr. K paused as he thought to the prophecy, his eyes widening before yelling to the colonel, now desperate to stop them, "Colonel! Send your best soldiers to seal off Wing B! Authorize them to employ heavy weapon as necessary!"

The colonel gulped, backing away as to avoid the master's wrath as he broke the bad news, "That's not possible at the moment, sir. All units have been neutralized, i-it's impossible to operate at the moment, sir."

Before Mr. K could even growl, the voice on the radio reported back to him, "Sir, the targets have just left the base! I repeat; the targets have just left the base!"

Now more desperate than ever, Mr. K practically screamed into the radio, "SEND OUT THE ASSAULT HELICOPTERS! USE THE WARSHIPS IF YOU HAVE TO! JUST STOP THEM!"

"Um..." The voice now sounded more scared than he's ever been his entire life, "T-That's impossible at the moment... The roaches just disabled the helicopters and the warship-" The voice didn't get a chance to finish as Mr. K let out a bellow roar of fury, driving his fist into the radio before tearing it apart with his bare hands. Colonel Cosette wisely decided to get the hell out of dodge, running out with the automatic doors closing behind him as the sweating colonel overheard his leader tearing apart his office.

Colonel Cosette slowly wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief while muttering to himself, "Why I choose this job?"

Mojave Desert

Back with the group, they finally managed to catch their breath and get some words with each other. Hotstreak asked the most obvious question, "So, what's the Lucha Ultima doing in the middle of the desert?"

"I'll do you one better: what are you doing in the middle of the desert?" El Diablo shot back at him, with the other wrestlers making noises of agreement.

Ebon sighed and laid back in his seat, "It's a long story." Then a thought suddenly occurred to him and then asked Hotstreak, "Hey, Frank. What about my roaches? Think that they'll come back?"

"They found you once. They can find you again." Hotstreak waved off before asking the wrestlers with them in the vehicle, "So, what caused you guys to find us? And where are we going now?" Professor Fagor nodded along with that last question, hoping that wherever they were going was safe and away from the government.

The Lucha Ultimate looked at each other, thinking about what to tell them before Jesse answered, "Let's just say that the world works in mysterious ways. And don't worry, we know just the place to go."

2 hours later

Lucha Motel

The group fled to a motel in the desert, a motel that the Lucha Ultima owned. It was two stories tall with a pool and miles away from DMC or any other city, away from the Knight's influence if only barely. And with-it being night, they decided that this would be a good place to stay for the night while the rest of the Lucha Ultima met at the motel.

After they all settled into a single room, the group was ready to discuss their plans and how to save the world. Most of the wrestlers were sitting on the beds with Ebon and Hotstreak, while Professor Fagor sat at the bed across from them and Marshall stood at the door, his arms crossed and standing on guard.

"Well, Professor, get cracking. What are the Daemon Knights and how do we stop them?" El Diablo demanded the professor to say, ignoring Jesse's disapproving gaze before the Professor nodded.

"Very well." Professor Fagor began his explanation on what he experienced in the last six years, "The Daemon Knights are former humans who have come in contact with an object known as a Seed of Chaos. They are infused with a massive influx of Warp energy that begins a metamorphosis of the body and soul."

"Huh." Feliz blinked along with everyone else in confusion at what the professor just said, "Could you please repeat that in a way that doesn't sound like occult bullshit?"

If the professor was annoyed, he didn't show it as he simplified it, knowing that the group would be clueless as to what he was talking, "The Warp is an immaterial dimension parallel to our own. Energy harvested from it is volatile and mutagenic, with several objects that we exposed to it had sections that were transmuted into flesh or gaining pseudopods, eyes, or even mouths. We discovered the Warp in the 1980s but research into it never took off, because of its volatility. However, as you can imagine, research into the Warp has now taken off after the opening of the rift. However, I was captured by the Knights six years ago."

"What; if the rift opened just 2 months ago, how'd the Knights appear six years ago?" Jesse questioned along with several others, confused at the possibility of the Knights appearing over six years ago when the Rift appeared in less than three months ago.

"With its only bounds being the limits of the dimension itself, the Warp is not bound by the laws of causality. It both does and does not exist at every feasible and non-feasible point in time. Meaning no matter where or when you are in the Warp, you are everywhere and everywhen because it all exists at once while not existing. This may seem confusing and that is because it is. But because of this, through manipulating the 'currents' in the Warp, one can travel backwards and forwards in time."

El Diablo and El Tigre whistled while the others looked dumbstruck at what the Professor said.

"Because it is stuck between multiple planes of existence, all with vastly different laws of physics and time that may or may not contract each other, The Warp has no laws of its own. In fact, the Warp is best described as a giant melting pot of malleable metaphysical energy." Professor Fagor continued with his explanation of the Warp, "The Seeds are made of crystalized Warp energy, same with the mass-produced ones. They grant those who have come in contact with them great power, bonding with them until they are offered to abandon their humanity. An offer that they won't want to refuse. In exchange, they become nearly invincible."

"Yeah, fucking right." Marshall drawled, interrupting the Professor to voice his doubt, "I took a few out and the Luchas took out more. Sure, they were a pain but not what I'd call nearly invincible."

"You only killed them because they were mass produced." Fagor claimed before explaining what he meant, "Most of those Knights were transformed by mass produced Seeds of Chaos, that initiating the transformation right away. Without a direct devotion to a single god and lack of time to properly bond, mass produced Knights are less powerful."

"Fuck all that does for us." El Tigre cynically replied as he crossed his arms after lighting up a cigarette, "If what Ebon said is true, almost a third of DMC's population are Daemon Knights and that's not even taking into account how many are in on the conspiracy."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try." Jesse retorted, "It is our sacred duty to protect the world from evil, no matter the odds."

"Yeah, fucking right!" Hotstreak yelled, not afraid to express doubt in their chances of succeeding in beating the Knights and their followers, "To beat those fuckers, we'd need a fucking army!"

Everyone grumbled in agreement. Then it hit them. An army... like the thousands of gangs in the ghettos and streets of DMC.

"You don't think..." Ebon looked at his friend, who shrugged with an expression that said it could work.

"I mean..." Becquerel Boy shrugged his shoulders as did the others in the room. It seemed implausible but if- IF they could unite all the gangs in DMC, then they had the people and resources to fight back against the Knights and their followers. But decades of conditioning wasn't going to just disappear overnight, so who knows how that's all gonna go down.

"That could work. It would take time, but we could gain enough manpower and resources to fight against the Knights." Fagor hypothesized with a hand to his chin in thought, "If we can get back to DMC, then we can stand a chance against them."

Suddenly, a buzzing and chittering sound flooded their ears from the outside. The group turned to the door in confusion before it was suddenly opened by a swarm of roaches, who retreated to the outside along the railings and walkways. Disturbed, the group slowly crept out of the room and to the railing, but what they saw was something that none of them expected.

It was Ebon's roaches, but they reached in almost the millions as they circled around the motel, flowing like a river of chitin and limbs. Suddenly, a few hundred thousand flowed near the spot below them, rising as each insect climbed atop each other until they formed a gestalt shape that resembled a silhouette draped in a cloth, featureless and unmoving.

"What the fuck?" One of the wrestlers breathed as they saw the form made of roaches, flowing and reforming in the endless tide of chitin and chittering.

And then it spoke.

"My name is Blatta. God of Roaches and the King of the Six Legged Army." The avatar of roaches spoke in a echoing and reverberating tone, "I come from the Warp to aid this world against the Ruinous Powers."

The group just stared at this entity for several moments before Ebon broke the silence as he realized something, "You're my roaches..."

"Indeed," Blatta spoke again, beginning his tale with the world, "I came to this world when the Crystal Skulls foretold of the two Prophets and the Six Legged Army. I realized that by the time I had travelled, you had not awakened your powers. So, to protect the Prophets, I hid in the walls of Hotel Santa Teresa, waiting for the moment to arise when the Prophets would emerge."

Ebon and Hotstreak looked dumbstruck at this revelation, with the former exasperatedly asking, "...So... We had a god of roaches as a pet?" At seeing Blatta nod in confirmation, the two felt like they were gonna faint.

"Hey, Blatta? All those insults I uttered all those years? I take em back." Hotstreak replied as Blatta merely remained stoic and unmoving.

"It is fine. Now, the time for talk has passed." Blatta continued on, wordlessly forgiving its master for all the insults, "The end of the year is but two days away, and if we are to weather the storm to come, the world must stand united against the tide of Chaos." With that, Blatta's avatar dissolved back into a swarm that dispersed into the desert along with the other millions of roaches as the group looked on.

"Well, it's official." Marshall threw his arms up in the air, "This day cannot fucking be weirder! There is literally nothing that could shock me now! Literally nothing!"

"Uh, guys?" Feliz gained the others attention, seeing him looking at the sky with a shocked expression and pointing a finger to the sky, "Look up." The group followed his gaze and were not prepared for what they saw.

Waves of an amber transparent material swept across the skies, resembling a swarm of clear particles of sand that combined into a cohesive whole. Rain and dust hitting the amber material, flowing down and washing away in swathing waves, trailing down like the wayward wings of a legion of fallen angels. It before all sides enclosed on each other, sealing the entirety of Dark Meat City in a dome of transparent amber stone.

The group stared at the newly formed dome over Dark Meat City before El Tigre turned to Marshall and growled, "You just had to say something, didn't you?"

Marshall's only response was him flipping the bird at the tiger themed wrestler.

Mr. K's office

"The launch was a success, sir." The colonel reported to Mr. K, who was standing in his newly repaired office with his hands folded and with Bruce and Luna standing next to him, "The nanite dome had covered the entirety of DMC. Nothing's getting in and nothing's getting out."

"I see." Mr. K responded as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk before asking, "And we have confirmation that the Prophets have not escaped the bounds of DMC?"

"None of the exit ports in the walls have not had any incident reports, sir. As far as we know, the Prophets are still in the bounds of DMC." Colonel Cosette reported, confident of their chances.

Mr. K let out a sigh of relief, leaning back into his chair before giving a glare to the colonel, "Good, prepare all the Knights and the Z-7s in DMC. It's time to begin the war for this planet."

DMC: Sparrow Hospital

"Wake up, William... Wake up."

Shakespeare slowly awoke with a groan to meet a grey ceiling above him after a soft and comforting voice spoke in his head. Blinking in confusion as he sat up and put a hand to his head... before he realized he was only looking through one eye.

Blinking again with a widened eye, Shakespeare felt where his left eye should be, only to feel a patch of gauze, bandages, and some medical tape keeping the whole thing together, his body covered by a hospital gown while he was lying in a bed. It was then that he saw a doctor walking up to him with a chart in his hands and, to Shakespeare's surprise, a gun sandwitched between his scrubs' waistband and his underwear.

"...What's with the gun?" Shakespeare asked the doctor with a weary expression and pointing to it with caution. The doctor sighed and wordlessly turned the TV on.

It showed a stoic Joey Hankman whom reported the horrific news to follow, "Breaking news. Moments ago, numerous detachments of Section Z-7 officers were deployed around Dark Meat City, shooting civilians, criminals, and cops alike. We have yet to confirm-" The doctor turned the TV off before the anchorman could continue.

After gaining a shocked expression for a moment, Shakespeare narrowed his remaining eye at the screen as he quoted his namesake once more, "'Hell is empty and all the devils are here.'"

Without another word, he knifehanded the back of the doctor's head, causing the man who yelp before his eyes rolled into his head and he collapsed. Getting up from his bed, Shakespeare ripped the IVs and sensors off of him before also ripping off the hospital gown and taking the scrubs from the doctor. After fitting himself with the bottom scrubs, Shakespeare than put on a medical mask and a medical cap in place of his bandanas and walked out of the hospital to his holy mission.

DMC: Povera Heights garage

Sounds of grunts were heard as Agent Crocodile forced a struggling Willy into his car, chaining the bat to the back of the seat with a pair of handcuffs. Despite his captive's struggling, Agent Crocodile remained deceptively calm, handing Willy an iPhone and calmly stating, "Call those two friends of yours. Tell them to meet us at that trailer you own at that shithole. Go off-script and I'll blow your brains out."

Willy was about to retort but Crocodile put out a pistol and aimed it at his forehead. Instinctively, he dialed Ivan's number into the phone and waited as it rang. "IVAN! HEY! Just glad to hear that you guys are fine! ...Uh, huh. Sure. Say, can we meet at my trailer? When? Uh..." Willy put his hand on the phone and turned to Crocodile, "When do you want them to meet?"

Crocodile paused, looking down in thought for a second before saying, "3:00PM. Sharp."

"3:00PM. Sharp." Willy told Ivan over the phone, "Got it." He then hung up and scowled at Agent Crocodile, "There, done! Can you let me go now?!"

Agent Crocodile gave a deadpan expression before he pistol-whipped Willy across the head, causing the bat to be knocked unconscious with a yelp. With that annoyance dealt with for a moment, the agent entered the driver seat and started the car up. He had already loaded the trunk full of his guns and ammo to last for days, and his secret weapon.

As he drove out of the apartment complex however, Randy saw that the sky now had an amber tint to it, like a layer of varnish had coated the air. The rouge agent scowled; they activated the Dome.

The Dome was designed by the engineers of the DMC MIB as a last resort in case of a global emergency; uncountable numbers of nanites forming into a graphene-like substance that was nearly indestructible, and even it was broken, the nanites would simply break formation and then quickly reformed, repairing the breach in almost an instant. If Mr. K activated the Dome, then they must be really fucking desperate.

Realizing his chance for revenge was fleeting, Randy then slammed on the gas, speeding to that trailer ASAP.

DMC: Downtown

Elijah, a dark skinned man with short hair and trimmed mustache wearing a white shirt, a backwards facing baseball cap, jean shorts, and red sneakers, scowled as he laid back on the seat of the police car, he and his friend with dreadlocks, Steven, was being carried away in. The reason he was in the car was because some of the thugs attacked an ambulance that had a pregnant woman in it, and they had to help with delivering the baby when she went into labor. Driving the car was Sergeant McDouglas and Corporal Strawberry, both just idling as they drove on when suddenly the radio crackled to life.

"Calling all units. A Z-7 detachment has just entered the residential areas of Heathrow, multiple shots have been fired, and we have just lost contact with them. Requesting units to investigate further."

"The fuck?" Elijah whispered to himself as he and his dreadlocked friend looked at each other in shock before he asked the cops, "Yo, what up with your supercops?"

"Quiet back there!" McDouglas yelled out before he grabbed the radio and noticed the dispatch, "Car 137 to dispatch: negative. Unable to respond, over."

"Yo, corporal." Elijah got Strawberry's attention as the corporal looked back at him, "What up with those Z-7 fuckheads? Thought they were on your side."

The corporal scoffed, causing Elijah to blink, and replied with, "God knows what we'd give to make that so. They answer to the government. Hell, they're more like PMCs or mercenaries then cops. I think they're more like fucking supersoldiers."

The sergeant scoffed too in annoyance, "Yeah, that would make our jobs so much easier." Suddenly, the radio cracked to life again with another report about Z-7 shooting up another part of DMC, McDouglas growled out in both parts frustration and confusion, "The fucks going on with those assholes?"

Elijah and Steven looked at each other, whatever was happening with Section Z-7 was clearly beyond the cops' knowledge.

A minute later however, they came across a quarantine line guarded with Section Z-7 officers as the car in front of them stopped and a blonde female officer with her hair in a ponytail stepped out of the car, presumably to talk to the officers. Suddenly, one of the Z-7's opened fire on the car, causing the blood of the driver and the two in the back to spray across the interior of the vehicle. The female officer barely reacted, even when a Z-7 armed with a flamethrower came in and torched the car without another word.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" The cops and criminals yelled at the same time the moment the bullets started flying before the sergeant quickly put the car in reverse and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, sending the cruiser back even as the Z-7's started firing on them. Most of the bullets hit the hood but three lucky bullets pierced through the windshield. Despite that they didn't hit any of them, the shock of it caused the sergeant to swerve into a telephone pole, caving in back and causing the car to stall as the impact snapped a rather important part of the engine.

"ARGH! MY HEAD!" Strawberry clutched the back of his head after it hit the bars that separated the front and back of the car before he noticed that they weren't moving, "SARGE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! GET US OUT OF HERE!"

Sergeant McDouglas was struggling to start the car before he slammed his hand on the wheel, "FUCK! The crash must have dislodged some parts in the engine. We're dead in the water!" The officers then saw the Z-7's were approaching them with the female officer leading them. "Quick! Get out of the car! This way!" The four scrambled out of the car like it was on fire while hiding behind it to protect them from the Z-7's.

The sergeant immediately grabbed the megaphone and said into it, "THIS IS SERGEANT MCDOUGLAS OF THE DIOS METRO CITY POLICE FORCE! CEASE FIRE, I REPEAT, CEASE-" He didn't get to finish as the female officer snapped her fingers which wordlessly ordered the Z-7s to fire on them, causing the four to duck as the top of the car was nearly shredded by the bullets, one of which hit McDouglas in the arm and chest.

McDouglas clenched the side of his chest and grit his teeth while the wound in his arm and chest started spewing blood. After a second, he managed to speak to the corporal, "A round went through my arm and into my chest... I won't be able to hold on for long..."

Strawberry swore and grabbed the megaphone, hoping to buy them time for help to come or at least intimidate the fuckers so they could come up with a plan, "THIS IS CORPORAL STRAWBERRY! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS?! REINFORCEMENTS ARE ON THE WAY, AND I CAN TELL YOU RIGHT NOW THAT YOU ARE GONNA IN DEEP SHIT WHEN THEY GET HERE!"

While Strawberry was distracting them, Sergeant McDouglas grabbed the mic and prayed that the radio was still intact as he messaged dispatch while trying to stay conscious, "Dispatch, we have a Code 3! We're being attacked by a Z-7 anti-riot unit! I've been hit! The situation is critical! Requesting emergency backup and an ambulance!"

"Negative. No units are able to respond." McDouglas was afraid of that. They were here and dead in the water, and that meant he had no choice.

"Strawberry," Sergeant McDouglas whispered, getting the corporal's attention as he pulled out his sidearm, "We're going to have to do this on our own... Quick, arm the prisoners. That's an order!"

The corporal gawked but saw the Z-7s were getting closer, so he bit down on his words and slowly opened the car door. Ducking down to make sure that he wasn't in the crosshairs of the Z-7s, the corporal slowly drew out two extra handguns from under the driver seat and his shotgun from his seat and then he withdrew quickly before he and McDouglas armed their two prisoners with the handguns. Much to the corporal's surprise, the prisoners didn't turn on them.

"I don't believe it!" Elijah mumbled as he and Steven pulled the slide of the gun to make sure it was loaded, "This whole shit's like a bad remake of Good Cop/Bad Cop!"

Strawberry peaked through the window enough so that the officers don't notice him before whispering back to the prisoners, "They're coming! Get ready!"

The dreadlocked man looked to Elijah with an incredulous expression, "These popguns ain't even gonna tickle em! So, why aren't we trying to haul ass outta here?!"

"Cause they'll turn ya into hamburger meat the second ya try." Elijah retorts, steeling his nerves as he knows he's probably not gonna survive this but is gonna fight anyway, "So, if I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die a brave man."

Strawberry looked over his cover and yelled, "FIRE!" The three then opened fire on the approaching Z-7s, which had as much of an effect as throwing spitballs on steel. The Z-7s immediately fired back as the three ducked under the car, with Strawberry and Elijah protected via the reinforced steel of the car. Steven was not so fortunate as a lucky shot speared through the barrel of his gun just before he could duck, sending pieces of the destroyed slide into his skull along with the bullet and sending him flying back with a ripped open forehead and exposed brain. The man was as dead as doornail.

Faintly hearing the sounds of them reloading, Strawberry started hyperventilating from the stress, "We're gonna die... Fucking A, I don't wanna die! I don't wanna-" He was cut off when Elijah slapped him across the face.

"Shut up and load up, Strawpussy!" The thug yelled before checking from behind their cover, only to gain a confused expression when he saw the officers, "What the fuck? They stopped..."

Blinking in confusion, the corporal peaked from behind the car only to see that the criminal was right; the Z-7s didn't move an inch, their guns lowered and fingers of the triggers. The corporal had a bewildered expression before an idea, a terrible, awful idea, popped into his head. "Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Amen..." Strawberry gave a brief prayer before clenching his eyes shut and slowly raised his shaking hand into the air, expecting his hand to disintegrate in a spray of blood and bones... but nothing happened.

Slowly opening his eyes when nothing happened, the corporal looked at his still intact hand before quickly lowering it as if it was on fire. He looked at the prisoner and mouthed, 'What the fuck?' Elijah shrugged before the two slowly rose from behind the car, the Z-7s still didn't move with only the female officer walking towards them.

"HANNAH!" Strawberry yelled to the female officer, not understanding why she'd kill her partner after 6 years of service together, "THE FUCK YOU DOING?! KILLING OTHER OFFICERS!?"

Hannah scoffed before she suddenly began changing; her uniform shredded off, revealing her nude form for the briefest moments before the skin of her lower half darkened and bulged out, deforming and growing out into an arachnid-like abdomen while arachnid legs grew from the sides. The hairband that was holding her hair in a ponytail snapped as it darkened and fused into a headdress of horns, a dark substance coated the upper half of her face as numerous green eyes appeared on the forehead, her skin turned violet, and pink fleshy tentacles opened from her back.

Hannah now resembled a massive cross between a human and arachnid; the arachnid lower half was covered in dark purple with violet muscles exposed at the joints, the upper half was of a nude human woman with violet skin, a headdress of thick curved horns on the head and a black substance covering the upper half of her face, and pink fleshy tentacles with green stingers wriggled from her back.

"I don't answer to you, Oswald." She answered in a husky voice, lashing out her stingers at the four at blinding speed. Thinking quickly, Elijah grabbed Steven's body beside him and threw it at the oncoming stingers before the others could react, sending the body into the air before the stinger tentacles hit it in the head, chest, and crotch. Something was pumped into the body before it abruptly deflated like a balloon being drained of air, leaving nothing but an empty sack of skin and clothes that was flung away.

The cop and crook both looked like they were about to puke after seeing that, but they got it together when Hannah lashed her tentacles again. "SHIT!" The two yelped in sync as they ducked behind the car as her tentacles hit the vehicle. Strawberry suddenly felt a pain in his arm and looked down, only for his eyes to bulge when he saw that one of the tentacles pierced his arm. Acting quickly, the corporal swiftly positions the barrel of his shotgun to the tentacle and pulled the trigger. The hot lead from the blast cut through the fleshy pseudopod like a fat kid through cake as the thing bleed a disgustingly bright green before it retreated.

Just as Strawberry ripped out the stinger left in his arm, gunshots were heard from elsewhere behind the Z-7s, the bullets hitting their backs but stopping against the Kevlar and titanium mesh of their uniforms. The noise though causes both Hannah and the Z-7's to turn to the source, distracting them from the crook and cop.

"Gunshots? Who's shooting at them?" Strawberry asked no one in particular as both he and Sergeant McDouglas looked bewildered by someone stupid enough to shoot at them.

"No idea, but they turned their backs on us!" Elijah seized the opportunity and vaulted over the car while breaking the cuffs around his arms, tumbling and getting on his feet before he aimed directly at the gas tank of the Z-7 with the flamethrower and yelled, "EAT LEAD, MOTHERFUCKERS!" He squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet spearing through the air and hitting the flamethrower's gas tank, piercing through the metal and the resulting spark igniting the extremely flammable gases in the tank.

The Z-7 holding the flamethrower even given have the chance to get the weapon off when it exploded into a massive burst of bright orange flames that engulfed the two and a screaming Hannah before she could react. Elijah brought up his arms to shield his eyes from the brightness of the explosion with the shockwave nearly knocking him off his feet.

When the light from the explosion died down enough for him to uncover his face, Elijah nearly lost his lunch. One of the Z-7s was reduced to bloody mulch while the other was still alive, but his legs were reduced to stumps spewing black sludge instead of regular blood, crawling towards Elijah with quiet painful grunts. Hannah meanwhile was slowly shifting back into her human form, nude and covered in burns that peeled off, revealing healed skin while soft bristles on her bald head grew into a long full mane of blonde hair.

A soft breathing was heard as Elijah noticed a figure coming through the smoke. A rotund figure that seemed to be armed to the teeth as an aura of impending doom flooded the air like maelstrom of blazing determination.

"Who's... Who's there?" Elijah couldn't help but stuttered out, not noticing Hannah looking to the figure in dread.

(300 OST - The Hot Gates (Start: 1:00))

The figure emerged from the smoke... and it was Shakespeare, wielding an M240 light machine gun in his right hand and a rocket launcher resting on his left shoulder. The still living Z-7 let out another groan that caused Shakespeare's sole eye to turn to injured soldiers before leveling his machine gun at the downed soldier and let loose a stream of hot lead that obliterated the Z-7's head, sending blood and brain matter everywhere.

Corporal Strawberry, who was looking from behind the car, had a look of shock that had to be seen to be believed as he whispered to the pale but still alive Sergeant McDouglas, who was wondering what was going on, "Sergeant... It's the Angel... The Angel of Death... He's come to save us..."

Hannah, now having the face of terror as Shakespeare approached, quickly scrambled to her feet and sprinted away in terror, sweat pouring off her in droves... not seeing Shakespeare level the RPG he was carrying at her as she fled. The gang leader turned savior fired the heavy launcher, sending the rocket propelled grenade spearing at the fleeing Daemon Knight, who turned just in time to see the projectile just a foot away from her and had no time to dodge.

A single scream was all she could utter as the rocket exploded on contact with her chest, engulfing her and 10 feet of the area in a blast of pyric fury. The survivors saw her body blasted apart into a slurry of flesh and blood that was scorched into ash from the flames of the explosion, destroying the Knight without the chance of her coming back.

"'Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.'" Shakespeare quotes once more before he turned to a stunned and awestricken Elijah, "Yo, we got work ta do, homeboy! We gotta rid Dark Meat City of all her demons! My new color is green, and I invite everyone to join me: Whites, Asians, Blacks an' Latinos! We going to war!"

Elijah's eyes widen before a determined look came across his face as he stuck his hand out for Shakespeare to take, "Let's get medieval on their asses!"

Shakespeare chuckled and grasped his hand, "Well, said."

12 hours later...

DMC: Southland Neighborhood

The neighborhood of Southland was a normally quiet neighborhood, albeit with assloads of drug dealers and homeless junkies. Still, it was a nice neighborhood to lay low in case the heat with the cops or other gangs got too high. And that's where Willy stored his trailer in case he had to hide from the gangs in DMC, though it was obvious as it was high on a hill and the fact that his name was written in caps on the front door.

Speaking of heat, Agent Crocodile wiped the sweat off his forehead as he finished assembling the last of his guns and set it aside to the window. With that out of the way, he sat down on the couch and tapped a pistol on his head (with the safety on. He wasn't an idiot.) to alleviate the boredom. However, he heard Willy whimpering in the bathroom that he chained him to.

"Sit tight, cat boy. Those two friends of yours better show up or you'll be in a world of hurt." Crocodile yelled, getting up and walking to the right window of the trailer, where he stashed several guns and an M82 sniper rifle loaded with ERUPTION rounds that he had on the bed, "Your performance on the phone was shit. Let's hope they bought it. If not, I might get creative and shove some fireworks up that furry little ass of yours! Cause, hey, I'm feeling festive!"

Now even more terrified, Willy loudly whimpered and curled into himself, causing Crocodile to grin before he twisted the knife, "Little secret, even as a kid, I loved torturing the animals. So, a part of me hopes that they don't show up." Not with that little shit well and terrified, Crocodile grabbed the heavy sniper rifle and rested it against the windowsill before looking through the scope to search for those two, but it was getting irritating with the heat and all the sweat pouring down his forehead.

Agent Crocodile dragged his hand down his face and wiped the sweat on his white shirt, muttering out as he looked through the scope again and searched the area for those two, "Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm sweating my fucking balls off in here! It's hotter than Satan's anus in this piece of shit trailer. Don't you have a fan in here? Jesus Christ, fucking greenhouse effect!" His rant was cut off when he saw Ebon and Hotstreak approaching from the bottom of the hill... with a bunch of thugs and gangers alongside them, led by Shakespeare.

"It can't be..." Crocodile breathed before an evil laugh bubbled from his throat, "No fucking way! They actually came back! Those fuckwits are unbelievable! Oh, this is too perfect!" The rouge agent then slowly adjusted the scope to get a better shot, curling his finger around the trigger and gave an evil grin, "Say cheese!"

However, his shot was ruined when a truck filled with thugs suddenly stopped in front of them. "Oh, son of a bitch." Crocodile growled, but at least it stopped the two and their gang, which meant he could get a better shot. The truck stayed in place, blocking his shot before it began moving again.

Crocodile grinned and pulled the trigger... only to see that one of the thugs was blocking his shot. "Oh, shit!" He yelped, but it was too late.

XXX

1 minute earlier...

Ebon and Hotstreak got out of a stolen car along with Shakespeare and Elijah as did the others in their cars. The ones on their side had green shirts, hats, bandanas, etc. to signify the alliance that they called... The Big One.

They gathered at the lowest point of the hill before Shakespeare gave the orders, "All right! Search the neighborhood and find any Knights that might be in the neighborhood! If you find any Knights, double tap them while they're still in human form!" The gang all raised their arms and yelled before they spread out through the neighborhood to hunt for Daemon Knights.

"Oi, Shakespeare?" Elijah asked the heavy-set leader of the Big One, motioning to Ebon and Hotstreak, "Why'd you let those fuckers join us? Aren't they wanted by the government?"

"'It is not in the stars that hold our destiny but in ourselves.'" Shakespeare quoted, gazing at Elijah with a look that pore into the latter even with a single eye, "It's the muthafuking apocalypse. We're in it until the end, no matter the skin color or belief. These times are when God fears of his creations and retreated to the dark depths of oblivion. Let's make this the time that Satan stood in fear and cowered against Man's will."

Elijah was stunned at that statement Shakespeare made but went along with it while Ebon and Hotstreak both grinned at the encouragement. As they made their way up the hill though, a truck full of thugs from the neighborhood stopped right in front of them in the middle of the road. One of the thugs jumped out of the truck and walked towards them with a machete, giving a look that demanded answers.

The truck moved out of the way and parked at the side while the thug approached them... only for a loud BANG to ring through the air. For Ebon, time seemed to slow to a crawl as he saw a molten orange projectile spearing towards them. He had just enough time to pull both of Hotstreak and Shakespeare out of the way and kicked Elijah out of the crossfire before time sped back to normal. The bullet ripped through the thug like a hot knife through butter and the blast from the shot tore the unfortunate thug clean in half, sending chucks of liquified intestines through the air before the bullet struck a car that exploded upon contact.

"HOLY SHIT!" Hotstreak yelled as the gangsters both on their side and not all started clamoring and shouting expletives at whoever made the shots or got behind whatever cover they could use. One diminutive thug used a car as cover only for another ERUPTION round pierced through the car, bursting the engine and radiator apart, flattening the front of the car, and shattering the windshield while the thug was cleaved in half in a shower of blood and viscera while radiator fluid spewed from the car before the bullet then exploded, killing at least ten more thugs in the blast and resulting flames.

"FUCK! THOSE SHOTS CAME FROM WILLY'S!" Hotstreak yelled as he saw the lense flare of a scope in the open window of Willy's trailer while he, Ebon, Shakespeare, and Elijah were standing behind the edge of a store for cover. Another shot came that bloodily cleaved through 8 more thugs on an incline at once like butter before the slug hit the road, leaving a crater the size of a chair when it exploded just seconds later.

"EVERYONE, SPREAD OUT, HOLD OUT, AND MOVE OUT!" Shakespeare yelled to the gangers on their side, "HE'S GOTTA RUN OUTTA BULLETS SOMETIME!" The gangers all nodded and quickly spread their numbers around the neighborhood so that the shooter would waste ammo. Their plan seemed to be working as another shot was fired but this one when through the street and out of the hill, leaving craters in both before the slug burst apart in a blast of flame and shrapnel.

The gangers and thugs started to move up to the trailer, firing upon the trailer as they got closer. Agent Crocodile dove away from the window the second the bullets came flying, hunkering down with his M82 and waiting as the shots pepper through the trailer like paper, kicking up dust and shredding the furniture and various pornographic magazines. Willy screamed and curled into a ball as the bullets flew through the bathroom, breaking apart the tank of the toilet next to him and drenching him in toilet water, causing the bat to scream and cry out in disgust.

Seizing a chance when the bullets stopped flying, Crocodile sprinted to the left window, stuck his M82 out, and pulled the trigger. Due to his lack of precision, the bullet struck the road instead of any of the gangers that were shooting at him, but the explosion knocked several of them off their balance. His next shot instead hit a car that exploded upon contact, lighting several of his attackers on fire.

Crocodile attempted to fire again but saw that the barrel of his M82 was now orange from the heat of the shots. Realizing that he needs to let his gun cool down, Crocodile abandoned it and slide across the floor to the right window of the trailer where he had stored several of his guns at. The rouge agent grabbed an SMG and took cover below the window, raising the gun to the window and firing blindly.

By now, the horde of gangers made it to the trailer, firing upon the trailer in droves while the rouge agent fired back into the streets. Ebon and Hotstreak got to the horde with Shakespeare and Elijah right behind them, the latter two using their guns to fire upon the trailer while Ebon and Hotstreak came up with a plan and used his powers to pepper the trailer respectively.

After seeing the fireballs, Agent Crocodile knew that Ebon and Hotstreak were close. So, he rolled out from under the window, stuffed as many of his guns as he could into the black bag that he had, and climbed through a window in the back and out of the trailer. Once he was on the roof of the trailer, Agent Crocodile pulled out a modified M16 rifle with a drum-type rear sight, fixed stock, drum magazine, and underslung grenade launcher, and then walked up near the edge of the trailer where the hordes of gangers saw him, including a surprised Ebon and Hotstreak.

"The fuck?" Ebon whispered out, looking at his friend who also seemed surprised by the man, "Why does that guy look familiar?"

"Wait... I know you!" Hotstreak yelled out, pointing to the rouge agent standing on the roof of the trailer, "You chased us in DMC!"

"Name's Crocodile! Randy Crocodile!" Agent Crocodile yelled out before pointing his gun at them, "And what you are is dead!" The rouge agent fired upon them, the titanium coated bullets tearing through the gangers and the street alike before Shakespeare shot up from his cover and fired his LMG, the heavy bullets tearing through the trailer's thin metal like wet paper. Agent Crocodile yelped and jumped back before his glare was on them all.

"OH, YOU WANNA A FUCKING WAR?! THEN YOU'LL GET ONE!" Agent Crocodile yelled as he raised his rifle at the before putting on his best Tony Montana impression and firing on the horde, "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!"

The underslung grenade launcher fired, sending a thick metal slug packed with a wad of Semtex flying at the gangers that exploded on contact, causing Shakespeare to dive back behind the car so he didn't become a pin cushion from the shrapnel that sent flying everywhere. Bullet casings flew around in reckless abandon as dust, stone, and dirt, while the shots bloodily felled gangers both aligned and unaligned, even as they fired back. One lucky shot grazed the side of Crocodile's chest, causing him to yelp but he blocked out the pain as he kept shooting, despite the blood pooling out of the wound and staining his white T-shirt.

Hotstreak growled, his anger emphasized by the flames on his head intensifying, "Enough of this! You get Willy, I'll get Crocodick!"

The Prophet of Light shot from his spot using two streams of fire from his feet to propel himself into the air and onto the trailer's roof. Agent Crocodile looked surprised but steeled himself as he fired at Hotstreak, who dodged out of the way and unleashed a torrent of flames at the former, whom in return grabbed a tarp that was nearby and threw it at the latter. The tarp was torched in a second, but the rouge agent used that opportunity to scissor kick Hotstreak in the chest before the latter could react and then fired his gun at him, who leapt into the air and dove at Crocodile, slugging him across the face and sending him down while burning his left cheek.

Suddenly, he saw Ebon emerge from his own shadow that appeared beside a surprised Shakespeare and Elijah with an unconscious yet shivering Willy wrapped in one of his arms. The shadowy metahuman looked at him and gave a thumbs up, causing Hotstreak to grin and jump off the roof, using his powers to cushion the landing before he turned to a recovering Crocodile.

"LIGHT HIM UP, BOYS!" Hotstreak yelled as he let loose torrent of flames at the trailer while the gangers fired at Crocodile, who scrambled out of the way and grabbing his bag before leaping off the trailer when it exploded into flames. When the agent managed to get behind cover, he unloaded on several unassociated thugs, the sounds alerting the others, giving him time to escape from them... Which is what would have happened had a dark tendril not wrapped around his waist and threw him to the street in front of all the gangs, who pointed their guns at him.

"Not so tough now huh, mutafuka?" Elijah taunted the rouge agent, only for the latter to quickly raise his M16 causing them all to tense while the agent got to his feet, panting and dripping in sweat like an animal.

"The fuck you want with me?" Crocodile growled out like a cornered wolf, hands tightly on his gun as the tension grew to where it could be cut with a machete.

A thought then occurred to Ebon, stepping forwards a bit before saying, "What do you know about the Knights' plans?" The gangers looked at him like he was insane before Shakespeare, who realized what Ebon was trying to do, loudly cleared his throat and they caught on and all start yelling out to Agent Crocodile to spill his guts on the Knights.

"And if I don't wanna answer your question?" Agent Crocodile growled in angry, enraged that these fucking degenerates could think that they could get answers from him.

"Then we blast you into mutafucking mincemeat." Ebon threatened, the gangers aligned with him cocking their guns for emphasis. Agent Crocodile growled again but decided that his revenge against the Knights was worth more than his revenge against those freaks.

"Fine." The rouge agent seethed calmly, lowering his M16 down as the others followed suit, allowing him to spill the beans on the Knights, "Truth is I don't that much about their plans. Something about 'purging the city as tribute for the gods.' And that they have something ready for the end of the year. And that's all I know."

"'Purging the city as tribute for the gods?'" Hotstreak repeated in bewilderment, a feeling shared by the others, "What tribute?"

"Ya think I know?" Crocodile snarked, grabbing the bag of guns that he was carrying and slung it over his shoulders, "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I got some business with the Knights." With that, Agent Crocodile took off, leaving the gangers with that information.

"'Purging the city as tribute for the gods...'" Shakespeare pondered the words that Agent Crocodile imparted, thinking for second before his eye bulged in horrific realization, "Oh, fuck me..."

"What?" Elijah asked the obese gang leader, who seemed to realize what the agent met.

"'By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes.'" Shakespeare quoted his namesake as he walked to the edge of the sidewalk that was overlooking DMC, and then spoke as he knew he had everyone's attention, "They're gonna destroy DMC."

Everyone that heard that all went silent from that statement, with Elijah being the only one to speak, "What?"

"They're gonna sacrifice all the people that are still living in DMC as tribute to their gods." Shakespeare clarified, still looking at DMC from the cliffside with a grim expression, "That's why those Z-7 Nazis are shooting whatever they can see; they're starting the ritual!" The gangers started swearing in realization with Ebon and Hotstreak looking at each other, thinking of a plan.

"Everyone, calm down!" Ebon yelled out, managing to restore order with the gangers, "We can't panic! Strip this place of any guns or ammo and move out! DMC will never be theirs!" Their foot soldiers all hollered and moved out, leaving the two and Shakespeare by the cliffside.

The obese leader of the Big One crossed his arms and quoted his namesake again, "'Stars, hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.'"

2 hours later

Gary's Gun Shop

Gary, a Caucasian potbellied man in his 60's with long platinum blond hair that was receding and a full beard and mustache, wearing sunglasses, a peace symbol necklace, a whit beater, green cargo pants, black cowboy boots, was counting money from all the sales that he had gotten from the mass buying of guns that the rising offense against the government caused.

Suddenly, the bell indicating that the doors was opening rang, causing his sight to be greeted by the most peculiar of customers. A tall and lean man with disheveled dirty blonde hair messily styled in a mullet, a prominent rectangular chin covered in stubble with a patch of bandages covering a huge second degree burn on his left cheek, drips of dried blood on the right side of his face, and eyes that seemed to have red irises and black sclera with an aura of calm madness surrounding him. The man as wearing a white t-shirt that covered in blood on the right side under a brown leather jacket, his lower half covered by a pair of black khakis, and his feet sheathed in black polished shoes.

The thing that interested Gary the most was the black duffle bag filled with guns that was slung on his shoulder. There was something special about this man, and Gary knew it.

Gary remained calm though and greeted his latest customer like the rest that came in today, "Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?"

Agent Crocodile replied in a tone that was calm but the kind that made madmen shiver in fear, "I need something special. Illegal or banned in America kind of special."

The gun shop owner cocked an eyebrow before turning his head side to side to make sure no one else was in his shop. When he saw that it was only him and Randy, Gary motioned with his head to a metal door a few feet away from them, "Follow me to the back." After putting up an 'Out to Lunch' sign on the counter, Gary walked to the metal door and pulled out a key, unlocking the door before going in with Agent Crocodile following.

The two then came to a dark room, separated in half by metal wire sheets and a sliding door with chains and locks that Gary undid so they could get in before he flipped on a light switch, bringing light to the place. The room had several posters of scantily clad women holding guns, crates with Russian printed on random spots, one contained miniature propane tanks, wooden racks that held both guns and boxes of ammo, tables in the middle and corners of both assembled and disassembled guns, a confederate flag on the wall sitting above an old recliner that was next to a TV sitting on another crate.

Gary steps by the pair of the tables in the middle and turns to Agent Crocodile, "Usually, I don't show this section of my gun shop to my regular customers, but I could tell there was something special about you the moment I laid eyes on you."

"I'm a lot more special than you can imagine." Crocodile replied, still unnervingly calm and even tempered, "I also need the most powerful sniper rifle you got. With a scope and a silencer."

"What's your budget?" Gary crossed his arms and demanded of the agent, skeptical that this disheveled man would have the cash needed for a purchase like this.

"Unlimited." Crocodile replied, remaining calm and collected, barely blinking as he stared on. Gary's eyebrows raised up in surprise, before motion to a table that had a familiar gun to Agent Crocodile. An M82 that propped up, lens cap on the scope, an empty clip, and safety on.

"There's nothing more powerful than this baby, but one thing it ain't is quiet. But it all depends on what you plan to do with it. If you want to bring down a helicopter in midflight, this will do the job." Gary explained to the rouge agent, "But then again, power without control ain't worth shit. You might have the biggest dick in the world, but if you're a premature ejaculator, it's like having a useless third leg, am I right?"

"At my old job, we had access to an entire arsenal. I've already shot one of these before... Couldn't hit a fourth of my targets." Crocodile replied, thinking about the fight in Southland.

Gary nodded in understanding, "I ain't surprised. The M82 is heavy and cumbersome, and it kicks like a mule. You need to be an expert marksman if you hope to accomplish anything with it." He then turned to a still calm Agent Crocodile, "You have to earn that little pink cloud, y'know?"

"Okay, forget it. I have to get to the vantage point, shoot, and get out as quick as I can. I need something light and easy to use." Crocodile clarified to the gun shop owner, still unnervingly calm, "And again, it has to be quiet. That's important."

The gun shop owner scoffed and rolled his eyes, "If what you got on your mind is one of them movie guns that don't make no sound at all, then forget about it. A silencer reduces noise, yeah, but your gun is still gonna make a ruckus."

"Buddy... I don't give a rat's bloody ass about how a gunshot is silenced." Crocodile replied calmly, gently drumming his fingers on a pistol rested between his pants and underwear, "I just need to shoot a watermelon at 800 meters without being seen."

Gary gave a sound of interest before saying, "Generally speaking, my customers prefer buying American weapons. But if you got nothing against the eastern bloc, I might just have what you need." He walked to the rack where the foreign guns were and pulled out a gun that looked nearly like a Kalashnikov as a sniper rifle, "The Dragunov. Russian made. Nothing like them shitty Chinese copies. It's sturdy and it wouldn't let out down, whether you're in a sandstorm or up to your neck in mud. A child could use it. The tritium battery has also been removed from the night-vision scope, so there's no chance of you getting cancer from it now."

Crocodile took the gun in his hands, looking over the Dragunov with an interested expression before Gary continued, "The thing is, no one has ever made a silencer specifically made for the Dragunov. A guy ordered a custom silencer from me that worked really well, but he refused to pay for it. Said it looked 'too home-made.'" He pulled out the custom silencer... which was an empty can of Nuka Cola that was stuffed with something that muffled sound.

"I'll take it. It'll work just fine." The crazed man shrugged, taking whatever he could get for his crusade before he noticed Governor Hoffman on the TV, something that piqued his interest, "Say, the governor is supposed to be coming to town today, isn't she? Officially, she's here to make a speech to placate DMC, but I know why she's really here. She's here to calm the masses while we're all killed, but we ain't gonna give up so easily."

"I know where you're coming from, friend. This damn government of ours, I can't stand it. It's a cancer." Gary looked at the TV, crossing his arms and seeing what the crazed man planned to do, "So, do me a favor: don't miss your target. Consider that rifle my absentee ballot for the next election. It's on the house."

Crocodile nodded and took the rifle and bunches of ammo before taking off, "Roger that." As he walked away, the crazed man's irises turned red, and the sclera turned black. Unknown to Crocodile, a shadowy matter with bright red streaks interwoven flowed from his back, smoke-like yet liquescent, taking various shapes like skulls, blades, limbs, and inhuman faces that formed and unformed randomly.

Downtown DMC

Fleeing to cover, Elijah fired his pistol at the Z-7s before he took cover behind a car with other three thugs when they were fired on by the Z-7s. The two other thugs fired on the Z-7s with Kalashnikovs, which wasn't doing much as the officers were armed with riot shields, meaning that they were only an annoyance to them. But that was their plan.

"Okay, Team 2! They took the bait!" Elijah yelled into the radio over the shots fired and the shots fired back, while a thug with a green cap and bandana covering his face used the signal, which meant that he lit a Molotov cocktail made from a napkin and a bottle of Vodka and threw it at the Z-7's riot shields. The bottle shattered upon impact on the riot shields, but the flaming napkin ignited the alcoholic liquid, bursting into flames that quickly spread from the shields to the Z-7's uniforms.

As the Z-7s scrambled to try and put the flames out, an armored bank transport was speeding towards them, driven by one of the employees named Mitchell while Corporal Strawberry was in the passenger seat and Shakespeare and a bunch of other gangsters were in the back. Strawberry picked up the radio and informed Elijah, "This is Team 2! We're on it! Get ready!"

Mitchell gained a determined expression and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, ramming the armored vehicle into the flaming squad of Z-7s, sending all of them flying into the air and then into the street. The vehicle swerved to a halt, as Shakespeare kicked the door open and while all the other gangsters vaulted over their cover.

"LET'S FINISH THESE FUCKING NAZIS!" Chavez yelled out, his words causing the others to cheer as they started firing on the Z-7s while they were still recovering. It was a bloodbath as Shakespeare and Strawberry charged out of the vehicle and fired while the others charged in, discharging their guns like wild animals, mowing down the Z-7s just as they started to get up. Shakespeare's LMG practically slice one of them in half while the others shoot and stomp on the others, making sure that they don't get back up.

After three adrenaline filled minutes of shooting, stomping, and bludgeoning, the Z-7s were nothing but bloodied corpses on the street. The gangsters all panted from the rush before Elijah capped off their thoughts, "Mutafukaz ain't so indestructible after all..." The gangsters started cheering at this victory for them, before Corporal Strawberry interrupted them all.

"No time to celebrate! Grab their gear and let's move!" The corporal yelled out, causing everyone to grab whatever gear from the Z-7s that was still intact. Body armor, grenades, guns, ammo, whatever they could grab, before they moved out, cheering all the way.

"BUST THEIR ANKLES!" "WHO'S THE MAN NOW, BITCHES!" "YEAH, DARK MEAT CITY UNITED!"

POTUS Personal Airplane

On his personal airplane, President Trump received a call from Mr. K while he was on his way to his meeting with E. The man was requesting something that nearly made him gawk.

"The prototypes?" President Trump replied to Mr. K incredulously before then asking, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I admit that they aren't perfect, but given the circumstances..." Mr. K replied on the phone, before trailing off and then replied again, "But extremely tense situations such as these could certainly have an adverse effect on their nervous system. Having been programmed to eliminate potential threats, it would be difficult for them to keep a cool head under these circumstances. But this problem can easily be corrected in a few short months..."

"Your Section Z-7 is out of control and your governor is dealing with a public relations nightmare! The media is turning against her, and you have multiple Human Rights organizations breathing down your neck, the GDF included!" Trump replied to the Knight who's influence he should have stripped at the beginning of his presidency, "The consequences of this armed repression is disastrous! Instead of smothering the flames, it's making them grow stronger by the day! DMC's reaching a boiling point and I don't think your actions are calming things down!"

"Oh, President Trump, you're looking on the negative side of things." Mr. K replied to the President's tirade in a calm and casual manner, "Sooner or later, the streets will calm down and everything will go back to normal. You will see."

"I think you underestimate Mankind's ability to fight for justice, Mr. K." President Trump shot back, not having the patience to deal with the Knight's words, "Have you been watching the news, Mr. K? The city's deadliest rival gangs have banded together to fight your super-soldiers and their excessive brutality! This isn't some little gang war, it's a full-blown insurrection against the government!"

"My, mister president! Taking the initiative for once! Consider me-" Trump didn't give Mr. K the satisfaction of finishing that sentence as he growled "Good day!" to the Knight and hung up. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he looked to the scorched sky, seeing the rift in the distance for what felt like the millionth time since September.

"Is there a problem, sir?" President Trump turned to see General Walter Crozier standing by him. The president sighed and wiped his forehead, looking out the window again in thought.

"There certainly is. I'm facing one of the most difficult decisions of my presidency, Walter." President Trump explained to the general, "I don't want the history books to remember me as the president who allowed his people to be massacred... Call the army. Tell them the troublemaker must be stopped, whether they be rioters or Z-7 units."

"Very well. I will relay your orders, sir." General Crozier nodded and walked off to relay the orders of the president.

Megiddo

Ultra Zapata hummed as he called the Padre from the village that they had settled in. The professor said that he knew of a way to slay the Knights by using the Dome against them, but he needed supplies.

"Yeah, Padre... We're in Megiddo. The town with the world's biggest dinosaur. Uh-huh. That's right." Ultra Zapata spoke to the Padre on the phone, "We just need some silver sulfate and actual silver. Thankfully, there's a lot of silver mines nearby. ...I don't know what he needs all that silver for. He said it gives us an edge on the Knights. The others are holed up in a local farm with the professor, they're preparing something that we think will help us."

"The skulls have made a new prophecy. It's very vague." The Padre spoke over the phone, sounding worried for the events to come, "They spoke of an army of titans that breathed flames, a man that hides in shadows that weave insanity, the death of a puppet ruler, and the world being drown in the sin shadows of things born in the unseen world... only for light, once thought lost, to shine once more."

To say Ultra Zapata was confused by that statement was like saying one needs air to breath as he looked at the phone like it had grown a face, "What in the holiest of fucks does that mean?"

"I am not sure, but the skulls have never led us wrong before. Tell the others of the prophecy and be vigilant." With that, the Padre hung up, leaving Ultra Zapata to absorb that information.

The fedora wearing wrestler sighed and walked to his car, driving back to the farm where they had congregated. As he was driving back to the farm though, Ultra Zapata saw a massive convoy of US army tanks and vehicles filled with troops heading directly towards DMC. The wrestler made a shocked face and then drove a lot faster to the farm.

Golgotha

"You need to see this, Mr. K. I think you will find this most interesting." Agent Hansen reported to Mr. K as the two walked down the halls of Golgotha to the surveillance room, "Do you know where your daughter is?"

The leader of the Knights raised an eyebrow, "Luna? Why do you ask?" The agent said nothing as he opened the door to the surveillance room, with Mr. K asking an impatient, "Well?"

"We have studied the footage taken by the surveillance cameras during the Prophets' escape." Agent Hansen reported to his boss, with one of the screens showing the feed from Lab 7 during Professor Fagor's escape, "Here is the footage from Lab 7. The subject is Professor Fagor, genetics and occult division. We have proof that he opportunistically joined the fugitives, who now have access to his considerable knowledge on our biology and on the occult."

Mr. K had a shocked expression that quickly turned to anger, "That little weasel took advantage of the confusion to escape. We have made a serious mistake!" If their secrets got out, then the humans would go on witch hunts that could result in them being slaughtered like cattle.

"But that's not all. Here's the footage from hallway 8-B." Agent Hansen reported to his boss, showing the hallway that the fugitives escaped from, "One of our soldiers attempted to neutralize the escape vehicle with a bazooka, but he fell to the floor before he was able to fire his weapon. If we zoom in on the muzzle flash here on the upper right-hand side of the screen..."

The technicians zoomed into the muzzle flash, close enough for a figure to be seen, before the resolution was enhanced to where the features could be made out. And it was Luna, holding a smoking Colt Python in her hands and with an angry expression on her face.

"No! That's impossible!" Mr. K's shocked and angry expression was worth a million words as he took in his daughter's actions.

Montebello

At a Walmart, several hundreds of civilians were on a mass buying spree as the belief that the world was coming to an end. The store had offered a one day only 'Crazy Low Prices' event, suffice to say people swarmed the supermarket like flies on rotten meat. One of them happened to be Marshall, who was getting supplies for the professor.

Now changed into a red leather jacket, black t-shirt, brown khakis, and black slip-on shoes, the blond psychotic man was on the phone with the professor as he carried all the supplies to the car. "Yes, I got everything that you asked. Yes! I double checked!" Marshall said to the professor on the phone as he managed to get to the car and open it without too much trouble from the other customers, "Relax, I haven't talked to anybody! We're fine!"

Just as he said that Marshall heard tires screeching to a halt and turned to see a Section Z-7 van pulled up in the parking lot, causing him to mutter, "Uh, professor? I gotta call you back..." The man then hid behind his car and waited for this to blow over. He may be psychotic but he's not suicidal.

Four Z-7 officers got out of the van, shotguns ready before the leading one yelled out to the crowd, "You are all under arrest! Do not move and you will not be harmed!" Unfortunately for the civilians, instinct won over reason as they all fled for their lives and the officers began firing on the crowd, mowing them down, "I said: do not move and you will not be harmed!" Civilian after civilian were gunned down by the officers, screams filling the air as the people and Walmart employees in the store looked on in horror but were too scared to act against them.

Suddenly, hope came when a convoy of the Army approached the parking locked while the trooper manning the leading vehicle's turret took aim and a trooper with sunglasses and a fairly trimmed beard yelled out to the officers through a megaphone, "ATTENTION, ALL SECTION Z-7 OFFICERS! THIS IS COLONEL J. WEASLEY MCCOLLOUGH* OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY! CEASE FIRE! I REPEAT, CEASE-" The colonel didn't get a chance to finish as the Z-7s opened fire on the convoy, but the armored frame and bulletproof glass stopped the shells, with the colonel yelled to his troops, "They're firing on us! ENGAGE!"

The trooper manning the turret immediately began firing on the Z-7s, shells flying as red-hot slugs riddled the supersoldiers, kicking up dust and smoke that quickly obscured them from the crowd. After a moment, the gunner stopped firing, letting the now red-hot barrel of the turret cool down. The smoke soon cleared, revealing that the Z-7s were now nothing more than slabs of torn up meat.

"Serves those crooked cops right!" Yelled an old lady as the crowd cheered. When suddenly, the old lady was shot in the head. The cheering died a cold dead as one of the Z-7s somehow served and pulled himself up enough to take aim.

The surviving Z-7 leveled his pistol to fire at the crowd... only for Marshall, who retrieved an axe he had in his car, to charge at the officer with a feral scream. The Z-7 didn't have a chance to react as Marshall swung the axe at the officer's face, piercing the mask and embedding the blade into the face, blood spewing out. Marshall yanked the blade out and the officer fell to the ground like a slab of meat, then the psychotic man decided better safe than sorry, raising his axe again and swinging down with a feral cry, cleaving the head clean off the shoulders.

"You all right, Dark Meat City?" Colonel McCollough asked the crowd, concerned for their well-being. Panting for a second, Marshall whooped loudly with his arms raised and the others whooped with him. Bunches of civilians climbed onto the armored vehicle while yelling "Semper Fi!"

DMC City Hall

Governor Hoffman sighed as she got out of the car, hearing the voices of her thousands of detractors and seeing signs defacing or deriding her in multitudes of admittedly creative ways, national guard keeping the more rowdier protesters at bay, and vaguely hearing the reporters doing their job. All the way, she heard the protestors yell and scream at her, calling her a whore and a Nazi, that her kids should be raped and murdered. She even overheard one of them say to a friend, "What's this puta gonna say? This city's a goddamn battlefield!"

With a sullen expression, the governor wondered how things got to this point. It was just another day at the capitol of California, Governor Tex was going to try and convince the President that they needed to get rid of the Knights when she noticed some of the MIBs at the side with something in their hands. Before they could even react, the thing exploded, killing Tex and several others. She barely survived and sent to the hospital, where she was visited by Mr. K. The old man told her that the apocalypse was coming, and it was only if she helped him that her family would survive the end.

Part of her wondered if she should have rejected the offer and just enjoyed the time they all had left with each other. But it's far too late for regrets now, all she can do now is try to calm DMC and see if the tide could be stemmed before it could get worse than it is now. She got to the podium with several MIBs standing by to protect her from the crowd, for once glad that Mr. K wasn't around to breath down her neck.

Governor Hoffman simply inhaled and exhaled to calm her nerves, shuffled the papers that held her speech, and clearing her throat before she began her speech, "My fellow Americans, this is a serious situation-" Suddenly, something pierced her skull. There was an unfathomable pain like her skull was torn apart and everything went black.

Then her sight returned. She saw an ocean of light, streams of dark things that she couldn't describe flowing downwards like myriads of ethereal rivers. She felt unbound by form or physics, like the universe was at her fingers. Sensing something though, Hoffman turned her head only for shock to flood her being.

It was the Rift, staring down at the Earth as tendrils of light brushed themselves against it. She was inside the rift.

5 minutes earlier...

Abandoned building

"Foxtrot... Foxtrot, do you copy? Come in, Foxtrot..." Crackled a radio in an abandoned building, next to the bloodied and mutilated bodies of two MIBs before a bloodied Crocodile picked up the radio and spoke in the best impression of the MIBs' voice he could.

"Foxtrot, here. All clear."

A second passed and it seemed his impression was good enough as the person on the other side responded with, "Acknowledged." Now that the MIBs thought they were in the clear, Crocodile could get to it quickly and thoroughly. After two minutes of searching, the crazed man found the right spot to shoot and aimed the Dragunov's crosshairs directly at the Governor's head.

Then the voice spoke again, 'You know if you do this, there's no going back.'

"Just let me concentrate, partner." Randy replied to the possible voice in his head as he looked through the scope while adjusting it to the right magnification, "I can't miss this shot, understand? It would be bad for me, and it would be bad for you. So, just shut up, okay?"

'All right. But remember, there's no going back after this.'

"I know." The insane rouge replied, the scope now adjusted enough so that the crosshairs was aimed directly at the governor's forehead, curling his finger around the trigger, "Okay, then. Here... we... go..." Unseen to him, his eyes turned black and red while the shadow with bright red streaks flowed from his back. Tendrils of shadow coiled around the gun, slithering into its inner parts and flowing into the bullet that started glowing an ominous bright red.

Crocodile pulled the trigger; the bullet flew from the barrel at blinding speed with the homemade silencer muffling the boom so that it merely made a thick popping sound and the shock kicked up dust from around the foregrip. If one could see time slow enough to see bullets move slowly, they would have seen that the bullet left a trail of darkness that took unnatural and horrific shapes before disappearing into a streak of black.

The bullet struck the middle of the Governor's forehead, bursting it into pieces like a watermelon while the rest of her body was thrown off her feet and sent tumbling to the floor like a puppet cut from its strings. Blood spewed from the burst head as the body twitched while the MIBs around her immediately bolted towards it. With that done, Crocodile immediately bolted to his feet with the Dragunov in tow.

Suddenly, a cold feeling briefly washed over him, and the crazed man abruptly found himself outside the building.

A shocked expression crossed his face as his gaze darted around the empty sidewalk and street that he now stood in. Even for his slipping sanity, Crocodile was shocked beyond words at what just happened, "What the-?" Unseen to him was a portal of shadows with red streaks that closed behind him just a second later.

?

"HOLY SHIT!"

Normally, Ebon and Hotstreak would have yelled at Willy to be quiet, but in this case, they were too shocked to say anything. As was Shakespeare, Elijah, and all the police, citizens, mobsters, bikers, and gangsters that had joined the Big One all staring at the flat screen one of them stole and hooked up. The governor was just assassinated and some of them had an inkling as to who was responsible.

"I knew Agent Crocodile was off his rocker but god damn." Hotstreak breathed out, a hand to his head in shock.

Shakespeare was the first to snap out of his stupor, walking to the cache of guns that they had and started arming himself with as many guns as he could carry. Elijah looked to the leader of the Big One, "Yo, Shakespeare! What you doing?"

"'Action is eloquence.' Coriolanus, Act 3, Scene 2." Shakespeare quoted his namesake and then explained, "Crocodile just decapitated their tie to the Government. Now that the Governor's dead, the Knights now have no political ties and that means they're out of friends and out of luck!"

"And that means we're going hunting." Ebon reacted, deciding that they need to strike at the Knights while they were in disarray, "Now that they're plans are in jeopardy, the Knights are gonna be forced to peel the Masquerade away! DMC is without a fucking doubt the most corrupt, piss poor, hellhole excuse of a city. But damnit, it's our hellhole!"

The members of the Big One all cheered and started arming themselves for war against the Knights.

POTUS Personal Airplane

"MR. PRESIDENT!" President Trump jumped when the Secretary of Defense came barging in, "Governor Hoffman was just assassinated!" Trump's eyes widened, if Hoffman was dead that meant that their deal was void.

"Crozier, call all troops in DMC! We're going to war against the knights!" The president ordered the general standing beside him, ready to finally take action against that gravel skinned bastard.

"Yes, Mr. President." The general replied before he yelled to the secretary of defense, "Mobilize all ground troops! Evacuate all public buildings! All Daemon Knights and turncoats are to be killed on sight! I want F15s in the sky patrolling the walls and DMC! This is a Code Red!"

"Yes, sir!' The secretary of defense saluted the two before scrambling out of the room.

Los Rudos

"Code Red? Is this a drill or a real attack?" One of the troops asked another as he got into a tank while he heard another trooper just scoff and give a grin, "Just give me a target!"

"C'MON, MOVE YOUR FAIRY ASSES!" He heard Colonel McCollough shout to the other trooper, seeing the sunglasses wearing colonel barking ordered to the other troopers, "THIS IS A CODE RED, LADIES! PLAYTIME IS OVER!"

"Shit, what's this 'Code Red' of their's?" One trooper asked another as they got into the vehicle.

"It means that a foreign power is invading American soil!"

Golgotha

The surveillance room was silent as the Knight heard saw the death of Governor Hoffman. Despite the fact that they had people in Congress, Wall Street, and even in the White House, their deal with the president was that Hoffman would act as a contract for them. So long as everything went through her, the White House and Congress would look the other way. Mr. K managed to find a loophole in their deal by becoming Hoffman's advisor of sorts, allowing him to get her to approve of their more morally unethical projects. Now that she's dead, their deal with the White House is void.

Despite the severity of the situation, Mr. K remained calm and composed even with the pressure on his shoulders. He looked to the silver digital watch on his left wrist to weight their options. It was 12:35PM. They still had a day and a half before the Wave reached Earth.

"How long until the ritual can commence?" He asked to whomever knew, thinking that they could still make this work in their favor.

"Half a day, sir." Agent Hansen replied, bowing to his leader.

"Good, then we still have enough time." Mr. K ordered, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten slightly, "Signal our brothers and sisters in DMC. Release the prototypes. And inform our remaining human allies in DMC. Protocol Istvaan V is hereby in effect."

DMC: Downtown

Disguised in a beige cloak, Luna gasped as she felt the signal for the Istvaan V to be activated. That meant...

Suddenly, Luna's attention turned to a very attractive woman with blonde hair, a pink tank top, short shorts with pink heart designs on back pockets, a cowboy hat and boots who was grinning sadistically. Her hair turned a platinum blonde while her skin turned violet, wings burst from her back as did a long purple scorpion tail slithered out of her tailbone while her form grew to nearly 20 feet tall, shredding her clothes in the process. Her tail impaled the nearest person while others screamed and fled in terror and causing the Knights nearby to do the same.

A dark-skinned cop with a handlebar mustache and sunglasses grinned; his skin suddenly turned a sickly green, his form growing and bloating, hot pink horns growing from his head as his mouth grew to nearly encompass his face, a hot pink scorpion tail burst from his tailbone, and whatever remaining of his uniform covered his modest and clung to him like tassels. The people near him tried to flee only for him to cleave them all in half with a single bit before going after the others.

A bespectacled priest merely gave a resigned sigh before his body darkened into a viscous dark blue substance as all his features disappeared while his clothes and glasses to be stored into his insides. His frame bloated and deformed until it was nothing but a mass of dark blue protoplasm with eyes, mouths, and tentacles that lashed at the civilians around him.

Several hundred more Knights took their true forms and began killing or eating whatever was in front of them, screams and gunfire echoing through the air like discordant music. Luna shed a single tear before her form became that of a black viscous ichor that enveloped her clothing, taking the shape of humanoid, long and lean with two almond eyes and a fanged maw, both a bright luminous orange.

Numerous men and woman adorned in haphazard red and spiked battle gear and armed to the teeth with blades, guns, and explosives flooded the streets, slaughtering any remaining civilians in sight. Leading them all was Bruce, who was now adorned in the same red and spiked haphazard gear, his hand in the air holding his golden handcannon as he let out a feral scream to rally the others. It terrified Luna, their emblem even more; an eight-pointed star that was plastered at random points on their gear.

While no one was looking however, Luna took an amorphous shape before slithering into the sewers. She needed to find and warn Ivan.

Hawk Canyon

The Black Mummy hummed to himself as he sat on a cliffside that overlooked the Mojave, but it was far enough away from Golgotha that they wouldn't notice. The Luchas tasked to overlook Golgotha in case there was any changes in the base. It was boring but he forced himself to keep watch because if any threats slipped by, then it could mean the destruction of the city.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound piped through his ears, snapping the Mummy out of his thoughts but then his eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he saw what was probably the most bizarre thing he'd in his life. There was an immense colony of 50-foot-tall praying mantises that were flying out of Golgotha, eyes red like blood with their wings extended and their mandibles open, bellowing a horrid screeching sound.

When the Mummy managed to get a hold of himself to break him out of the stupor, the diminutive wrestler muttered out, "Oh, shit. That don't look good at all." He quickly backflipped onto the black horse that he brought with him and quickly used his bandages to make a whip cracking sound, startling the horse into sprinting towards the farm where the wrestlers and the professor were hiding at.

It was an abandoned farm that still had tractors, tools, and supplies, something that the professor has been using to prepare what he was calling 'a counter ritual.' By the time he got there, the wrestlers were already coming out of the barn to check out the buzzing.

"Guys! It's Golgotha! You gotta see this!" Mummy yells to them as he motioned for them to come outside, only for their expression to slacken when they saw the colony of giant praying mantises... even more so when one of them breathed a stream of fire that reduced a sheep to bones.

"Are those...?" El Tigre started but found himself to dumbstruck to finish.

"Yes, those are giant flying flame-breathing praying mantises." Jesse confirmed casually, not really fazed by this development. Others not so much.

"'Then out of the smoke came locusts upon the earth, and power was given them, as the scorpions of the earth have power, They were told not to harm the grass of the earth or any green plant or any tree, but only those people who do not have the seal of God on their foreheads.'" Ultra Zapata began reciting a passage from the Bible, staring on in shock, "'They were allowed to torment them for five months, but not to kill them, and their torment was like the torment of a scorpion when it stings someone. And in those days people will seek death and will not find it. They will long to die, but death will flee from them. In appearance the locusts were like horses prepared for battle: on their heads were what looked like crowns of gold; their faces were like human faces.'"

Professor Fagor looked at the colony of giant mantises in shock, "The prototypes..." He never thought that the Knights would be desperate enough to warrant using them.

El Diablo was shocked beyond words but managed to pull himself together, getting on a red colored horse and taking a chainsaw with him, "COME ON! GRAB A HORSE OR CAR! WE HAVE TO GET TO DMC!" The others snapped out of their stupor, grabbing whatever weapons they could carry and mounted the horses on the farm.

"Wait! What about the ritual?!" Professor Fagor yelled to the others, looking to all his notes and supplies in the barn.

"Professor, if those things get to DMC, then who knows how much damage will be done to the city!" Espirito replied to the professor, thinking of what could happen to the people in the city if they don't act now, "Besides, we'll pack all the notes and supplies to the car! But we have to go!"

The professor sputtered in protest but gave a resigned sigh. The wrestlers immediately packed all of the professor's research and supplies into the cars before they all immediately bolted to DMC as fast as their cars and horses could take them.

Los Rudos

"ON THE LEFT! THEY'RE FLANKING US!" Colonel McCollough yelled as he and his troops fired onto the red clad freaks coming from the street on the left, mowing them down in a bloody massacre before they had a chance to fire at them. Three of the troops got out and started finishing the survivors off with their knifes and boots as to not waste ammo. The colonel then yelled out to them, "Good! Now grab their guns and ammo! We're gonna need all bullets we can get!"

The colonel yet out a frustrated breath. Just minutes ago, the Convoy had encountered several of the red wearing cultists that were shooting, slashing, or raping whatever they saw. After they dealt with them, more and more of those cultists have been attacking in waves with the troopers taking whatever guns or ammo they could grab so that they could survive.

"Up front! Hostiles at 12:00!" The colonel's attention was ripped from his thoughts, and sure enough, several dozens of the red geared freaks were charging towards them with reckless abandon. The troops immediately aimed their M14s, .50 cals, and tanks at the hordes and let loose streams of bullets and tank shells, tearing both the cultists and the street apart in their fury. More cultists kept coming in the hundreds despite the onslaught of gunfire, wounds spewing fountains of blood while others were torn in half, limbs or heads vaporizing, or torn apart by shrapnel from the destroyed street.

A volley of mortars from the cultist's side blew apart the crossroads while the convoy retreated slightly to avoid the flames and firing back. Colonel McCollough slowly took off his sunglasses before yelling, "Hold the line!" The soldiers immediate got out of their vehicles and took aim at the cultists that were suicidality charging through the flames.

'We're in for one helluva night.' The colonel though as he aimed at the flaming cultists.

The colonel would have no idea how right he was.

14 hours later...

DMC: Santa Maria

(Borderlands 3 OST: The Rampager Part 1)

Night had long since fallen over DMC, yet the city was far from quiet as flames and explosions lit the night sky, gunshots and screams rang through the air that were drowned out by roars of fury from both the Big One and the Knights. Smoke bellowed from the pyres of burning concrete and metal, corpses of both human, Knight, and mantis alike strewing the burning streets. Broken guns were used as monuments for the fallen with the personal helmet for the troopers, sunglasses or leather jackets for the bikers, gold chains for the gangsters, and personal objects for anyone else. Skulls and bones decorating various buildings, streets stained with blood, spent casings, and bodies, stores and markets raided for whatever supplies they held, a cold front soon washed over the city and snow pouring down in droves yet unable to extinguish the flames.

Even in the times when the apocalypses made landfall, the gangs still had their loyalty and determination to each other, acting as the shield that blocks the Gods' temptation and the tie that binds them all against the hordes.

Ebon and Hotstreak roared out as they unleashed anti-personal bullets and torrents of fire at the hordes around them respectively, while on an armored Buick filled with propane tanks and white phosphorous that was being dragged along by chains connected to El Diablo, who was riding his red horse, and Marshall, who was driving a chopper, towing it through the streets like a chariot at a massive horde of charging mutants and screaming Chaos Spawn.

"Let the payload loose!" Hotstreak yelled out to the two who's dragging the Buick. Marshall and El Diablo nod and then bring down their axe and chainsaw respectively on the chains, severing them and leaving the car to charge at the horde at top speed. Ebon and Hotstreak jumped off as it collided headfirst with the horde, the momentum causing a leveler mechanism on the dashboard to strike a match that was taped on against a matchbox also taped on the dashboard, igniting the propane in the car.

The explosion rocked the street, setting all the mutants and Spawn ablaze, their screams joining the chorus in the sky. Ebon warped away while Hotstreak unleashed streams of fire that slowed his momentum, and El Diablo and Marshall slowed their mounts. Hotstreak landed on his feet while Ebon warped back beside his friend while El Diablo and Marshall were right behind them.

Hotstreak turned to the two and yelled out, "That ain't gonna hold them forever! Let's get back to the base and regroup!" The group all nod and they took off, just as the charred corpses of several mutants and Chaos Spawn fell through the flames, bleeding boiling fluid that hissed out steam.

(Music Ends)

The group eventually arrived at an abandoned Chinese restaurant, going down the alleyway and into a stairway. Marshall parked his chopper into a garage while El Diablo gave his horse to Feliz, who was standing guard while looking after the horses. The four got down the murky stairwell and unlocked the metal door leading to the restaurant's basement... not seeing a mass of black ichor slither into a vent beside them.

It was a massive room connected to a myriad of others all across the city, inhabited by the members of the Big One, the cops, the troopers from the military convoy lead by Colonel McCollough, and anybody that took up arms against the Knights. The members adorned in haphazard uniforms of flak jackets, bullet proof vests, leather jackets, winter gear, ammo belts, bandanas, sunglasses, and combat boots. And there was the fact that they were all armed to the teeth,

The situation was grimmer than imaginable; the F14s that the government sent to help couldn't do much against the dome, so they're merely patrolling DMC while the military's best technicians have been trying to decrypt the Dome's controls so they could deactivate it, but there were several thousand subroutines, any of which could have been the one that deactivated it.

As for the rest of the people, they've been scattered across the city, forming their own groups to fight against the Knights or cults dedicated to the worship of the Dark Gods came all over. As much as they hated it though, they didn't have the time or supplies to rescue civilians, so the only thing they could do about them was just hold out and beat the Knights.

"Guys, we're back!" Ebon yelled to the others in the room, gaining their attention with Colonel McCollough saluted the Prophets, "Shit's getting intense out there! Any updates?"

"We raided the last gun store in the area, boss." Espirito answered upfrontly, his mask and costume stained with dirt and soot, "Palm Hill's in flames, Chinatown's infested with cults that are warring against each other, and the Dome's still up. Don't think it's coming down any time soon."

"Agent Crocodile?" Hotstreak asked with his arms crossed.

"Haven't seen him since Southland." Elijah answered apathetically, not concerned for the crazed agent at the moment. The gangster was now wearing black pants, a dirty white shirt under a bulletproof vest and a leather jacket.

"And Shakespeare?" Ebon asked anyone who knew.

"Speaking to the professor, saying that they swiped some stuff from Golgotha that can give us an edge." The Black Mummy replied, while cleaning a gun, "Thinking he's volunteered for something." The mummy was a little ruffed up and having a flak jacket on him.

XXX

Shakespeare gritted his teeth as the professor used a more primitive method of inscribing tattoos on his skin, using a stick with a fang-like needle connected to a bag of ink while tapping it down with another stick. The two were alone in a room with all kinds of occult books and notes, incense burning all around, and a lamp shining down on them as Professor Fagor worked while wearing a green visor so the light wouldn't interfere with his sight.

"Relax, I'm almost finished." Fagor told his patient as he wiped sweat from his brow before he continued, "None of these runes will bring you under the fold of the gods, they simply grant you the ability to manipulate Warp energy."

"It's not that, Professor. Can you just use an electric needle?" Shakespeare suggested, his tone unnoticeably strained because of the pain.

"Pain is essential for maximum efficiency." The professor explained as he added the finishing touches on the tattoo-like runes, "These magical tattoos cannot be inscribed by an electric machine, for the needle of a tattoo gun would break or melt as the work progressed. The work will grant you power based on your thoughts, imprinting your will on reality."

Shakespeare was quite unfazed by the professor's words as the latter finished inscribing the runes on the former's skin before he uttered what could only be described as unholy words in a chant or incantation. The runes began to burn slightly before the sensation faded, allowing the gangster to finally sit up as the pain receded.

"'Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day.'" Professor Fagor quotes the famous playwright that the leader of the Big One was named after.

Shakespeare looked surprised with his single eye widened, "Didn't know you were into Shakespeare."

"I have my hobbies." The professor shrugged and looked over his notes.

The thug chuckled before getting to his feet and quoting his namesake again, before putting on a flak jacket as it was freezing in the room, "'Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.'"

XXX

Luna looked through the vent at where Ebon and Hotstreak were talking alongside Elijah, drinking some beers and reminiscing on how things got this way. Despite the fact that she knew she was by technically stalking them, something that she mentally and bitterly notes, 'Great, now I'm a stalker. How much lower can I fall?'

"Man, I ain't ever though this is how my life would end up." Elijah bemoaned as he looked to the ceiling in thought, while taking a sip of beer, "Two days ago, I was trying to make my girl happy. Just yesterday, I was trying to fight back against the government and today, I'm fighting to survive the apocalypse. How'd this shit happen anyway?"

"Bro, you're never gonna believe it." Ebon leaned back in his chair, thinking about how this all started, "It was four days ago. I was pizza delivery guy, just trying to make a delivery. Suddenly, as I was driving along, I saw this beautiful woman walking along the streets and I got distracted and crashed into a truck. How was I supposed to know one little look could change everything?"

"Yep." Hotstreak confirmed after a long sip of Miller Lite, explaining the rest of the story, "Apparently, the head trauma gave him the ability to see the shadows. We got our powers back from a radioactive drink and got hunted by both a version of the MIB that not related to the actual MIB and those Z-7 sons of bitches. One thing led to another and then we found ourselves in Palm Hill, Golgotha, and all over DMC. And now here we are at the end of the world."

Elijah just had a surprised look on his face as he cracked up open another cold one and took a sip, "Damn. Who was that woman anyway?"

"Her name was Luna. She's also one of the Knights." Hotstreak answered in a bitter tone.

The gangster snapped his finger with a disgruntled expression, "Damn. Why are the hot ones always either demons or psychopaths?" He asked while taking another sip of beer as he thought it over.

"A tale greater than this." The flaming metahuman replied to him, before a thought came to his head and he turned to Ebon, "Say what do you think about that broad anyway?" Ebon's expression froze before he looked around the room for a second.

"Promise you two aren't gonna mock me?" Ebon demanded of the two, who nodded and he sighed before he gave his answer, "I... still love her." The two blinked in surprise as did Luna if she had eyes, looking at him like he was crazy.

"I know but... seeing her... reawakened something in me." Ebon tried to explain why he felt this way towards Luna, "I saw in her something that I liked, something that I loved. She seemed like... like someone who actually cared about people, like she cared about whoever was on her side. Even when Mr. K tried to get me to join them, Luna... Luna seemed like she wanted to be with me. And that's a lot more than I can say for a lot of other people in DMC. I just wanted to show her that... the only reason people hate each other because they don't understand each other."

Hostreak and Elijah made sounds of agreement as they all raised their cans in a toast. If Luna formed human eyes at the moment, tears would flow out of them down her cheeks, touched by the man's words. Deciding that she had to do something, Luna quietly slithered out of the vent, reforming her human form around the empty corner with a black sweater, beige pants, red shoes all hidden under a beige formfitting cloak with sleeves.

She walked around the corner to the surprise of all three men, who immediately shot to their feet. Luna then took off her hood, revealing her face to the three men whose jaws dropped when they saw her. The woman offered a rueful smile, waving to the three, "Hey, Ivan."

The two were speechless while Elijah's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw her, "Holy shit, she is hot!" Luna blushed before she shook it off and looked to the still cautious Ebon and Hotstreak, whom nearly readied their powers while she raised her hands to placate them.

"Look, I'm here to help. I swear on my life." Luna swore, keeping her hands up as a sign that she came in peace.

"And how can we trust you after that stunt at Pipo's?" Hotstreak retorted, still skeptical on trusting her.

"Look." Luna starts as she looked on with her head down, ashamed of her actions, "I know what I did, and I know what I've done. But in whatever way there is, I want to do what's right. I've learned that I can't let Chaos rule this planet. I know I've had a late start, but isn't the fact that I wanna try count as something?"

Ebon and Hotstreak look at each other before the latter says, "All right. But if you turncoat on us again..." Hotstreak snapped his fingers, forming a small orb of fire that floated above his hand. Luna just gave a nod and he extinguished it, sitting down along with Elijah while Ebon still stays standing.

"Why do you want to me to take a chance on you?" The shadowy metahuman asked her, still curious of her turning coat against her father.

"You did the same for me back at the restaurant. I just wanted to say; thank you for showing me there's another way, Ivan." Luna whispered, putting her hands on Ebon's shoulders, "I believed no one would accept me, that they'd hate me, so I hated them first. But feeding on hatred leaves such a bitter taste. I'm quickly learning I much prefer the sweetness of a stolen kiss."

She planted her lips on Ebon's cheek, causing Hotstreak and Elijah to look on in jealousy, "You lucky bastard, Ebon."

XXX

20 minutes later...

All the members of the Big One all gathered in the largest room underground to discuss their next plan of action against the Knights. It was a meeting room with caches of guns, maps and papers taped to the walls, radio equipment on tables, dozens of chairs to sit in, and a stage for the leader to give their speech. But as they all entered, Shakespeare noticed a woman that he hadn't seen before.

"Who's she?" The heavy set gangster pointed to Luna, who shrunk at his gaze.

"We saved her from Golgotha before all this. She can help." Ebon lied, covering for her as did the Luchas and Marshall, nodding and making sounds of agreements.

"What? We-" El Diablo quickly elbowed Feliz in the side, causing him to realize what they were doing and corrected himself, "We got her out of Golgotha along with the Prophets. She's made a great effort." Shakespeare didn't seem quite convinced but shrugged his shoulders, the more help the better. Colonel McCollough took to the stage first with Shakespeare behind him, and the two began their next plan of action.

"All right, as everyone in the rooms knows, the Knights are preparing to pay tribute to their Dark Gods." Colonel McCollough begins the plan, "This involves mass slaughter and depravity across the city, ending in something that Professor Fagor has labelled as 'The Final Prophecy.' Thankfully, the man has prepared a counter ritual, but we need the dome down to do it."

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple." Dr. Fagor explained as he adjusted his visor, "The dome is constructed out of vigintillions of nanites. They mimic the properties of graphene, a material equal in durability of diamonds. And even if you could damage it, the nanites would simply disassemble their formation and then reassemble it to repair itself."

"The controls to the dome are in Golgotha. The control room more specifically." Luna began her explanation on how to shut down the dome, "You just have to get to the control room, plug in the deactivation code, and the system should do the rest." The professor nodded while the others looked to Luna in surprise.

"How does she know?" One of them asked but she answered pre-emptively before suspicion arose.

"I was trapped in Golgotha; you wouldn't believe the gossip that goes on in the cells." Luna replied casually, surprising everyone again with her knowledge.

"Regardless, one team has to get to Golgotha to bring down the Dome while another goes with the professor for the Counter-Ritual. Alpha Team, comes with me uptown." Shakespeare commands one squad before he then commanded another, "Gold Team, goes with Colonel McCollough to Golgotha. Any questions?"

Nobody said anything when someone randomly shouted, "Gold Team rules!"

"Yo, guys!" Everyone turned to see Elijah running into the room, looking quite out of breath, "You gotta check out the news! There's some heavy shit going down in Japan!" Alarmed, the group immediately jogged out of the room and saw what the thug was talking about. The newscast on a flat-screen showed Kent Brockman who was reporting on yet another tragedy.

"Horror in Japan, India, Afghanistan, and China today as the four countries I have listed are currently under siege by multitudes of daemonic entities and corrupted individuals flood the streets while laying waste to everything in sight." Kent reported, having a stony expression as he talked, "Casualties range into the millions or billions. We go to our contact in Japan, Mikoto Kazama."

The cast then cut to a lavender haired anchorwoman in a lavender suit, whom was both horrified and shaken by what has happened, and in the background was a ruined Tokyo. She seemed to be trying to steel her nerves to describe the events that transcribe what was happening in her home country.

"A-Are you sure we should be out here? W-We're rolling? Okay, um," Mikoto composed herself and began her report, "Thank you, Kent. It's chaos here in Japan as several thousands have been either killed or defiled. Along with the takeover of the small town of Sharpwood in northern Michigan, Tokyo has been laid siege to by thousands of... what I can only describe as demons and cultists. The same can be said for India, Afghanistan, and China. We have yet to ascertain the number of causalities. Now, let's get out of here before any of those-"

Mikoto was cut off when a scream was heard, causing the camera to turn to see several Slaaneshi cultists racing towards them. The cameraman immediately dropped the camera, which landed to face the cultists, whom were dragged Mikoto away and ripping off her clothes with the woman screaming her lungs out while her cameraman was disemboweled by the others as they laughed in sadistic delight. The feed then cut to static.

It then cut back to a shocked Kent Brockman, whom opened and closed his mouth before a voice told him that they were rolling and he composed himself, clearing his throat, "India and Afghanistan was just declared lost by the GDF while uprisings in Washington DC, Moscow, Hong Kong, Luleå, Oslo, Edinburgh, Dublin, Helsinki, Paris, Madrid, Quebec, Copenhagen, Mexico City, Rome, Milan, Istanbul, Cairo, Alexandria, Baghdad, Jerusalem, São Paulo, Lima, Buenos Aires, Lagos, Mogadishu, Bombay, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Bangkok, Seoul, Shanghai and many more are beginning to take place. The GDF, Russia, China, North Korea, the EU, and the US have begun arming for war. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have just entered World War 3."

Suddenly, the ground shook as a deep reverberating sound rang followed by an earth-shattering BOOM!, sending multitudes of the people to ground and knocking the power out, plunging the Underground into darkness. The fighters managed to get to their feet with some turning on flashlights or electric lanterns, lighting up the room.

"What the fuck was that?!" Nobody knew who said that, but they definitely knew it was Shakespeare cocking a shotgun and giving the answer.

"That's us running out of time."

DMC City Hall

Mr. K hummed as the halls of City Hall were painted red with blood, marking daemonic runes with an orange luminous substance in random location, feeling the air become sulfated with the essence of the Warp. The Wave will be upon them within a day, and they must prepare for the ritual that will bring this planet to the Gods' fold. Bruce stood beside him, having discarded his white suit in favor of a red one with a black tie.

Upon the ritual circle being finished, Mr. K snapped his fingers. Two MIBs holding cauldrons filled with blood and a black substance walked up to the circle and poured the contents into the middle, the liquid instead becoming a column of red with black mist in the middle. More MIBs came to the circle and put their hands together, muttering unholy prayers.

"Sir? What is the meaning of this ritual?" Bruce asked Mr. K as he was confused of the ceremony's purpose.

"DMC is merely the syncopated back-beat to the song. The rhythm beneath the rhyme. This much fire, this much misery, this much pain." Mr. K monologues to Bruce, who just stood there stoically, "Suffering has always fueled the Warp in random stains and stigmata. Now, we learn the virtue of control. Can you hear it? Can you hear the pain stirring the tides? Can you hear the crash of those waves, Mr. Maccabee? Can you hear how those black tides beat, a million hearts bursting out loud, as rhythmic as drums in the deep cold?"

"I am not like you, sir." Bruce replied, maintaining a stoic expression as he watched the beginning of the ritual.

"The tides of the Sea of Souls can be altered by mortal hands, Mr. Maccabee. Listen. Listen." And so, Bruce listened. He heard cries of fear, terror, and hope flooding his eardrums like melted gold, ordering the tides and swaying the currents to the spot before him. Mr. K continued on, "We are reordering the Warp itself, Mr. Maccabee, changing it through pain. We are rewriting the song. Every life. Every death. Every cry of pain across this burning city thins the veil between reality and the first-realm."

The leader of the Knights walked to the middle of the score of dead bodies, looking up to the dome as it blazed red with infernal power.

"Call it Hades or Hell, Jahannem, Naraka, Tartarus, or the Underworld. Call it whatever you will but I am bringing it forth onto the material plane. DMC is merely the genesis of the storm, Mr. Maccabee, we will make the rest of the planet suffer enough so when the curtain falls, Earth will drown in the Warp. And when the Prophets meet me again..."

Mr. K's eyes then turned red as infernal power surged, causing Bruce and the others to shield their eyes from the intensity of the light.

"...They will serve as the seaside breakers."

2 hours later...

Golgotha

Colonel McCollough breathed through his nose as Gold Team approached Golgotha. The temperature had abruptly dropped with snow falling from somewhere, nearly obscuring their view but lights from the inner base shone through the blizzard like a lighthouse. The convoy was not only filled with the surviving troopers that he came to DMC with, but also gangsters, bikers, psychopaths, loose cannons, and those wrestlers, all decked in winter gear and armed to the teeth in case of an encounter with enemy forces.

"All right, listen up men!" The colonel shouted to all the rebels he had with him, "Who knows what utterly horrific things that are awaiting us in Golgotha! So, stay on you toes and be on guard!" The soldiers under his fold let out a cheer, as the colonel looked ahead. They were about 20 kilometers away from the entrance to Golgotha. No turning back.

The convoy entered the vacant hall, red alarm lights blaring down on them like the inner flesh of Satan's maw. Vaguely, McCollough heard one of them utter a prayer for safety, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, even though I walk through the valley of death." He didn't blame the bastard, who knows what things could be lurking around this place.

It was as they got deeper into the facility that they realized something... off; there was no one there. Confused, the convoy stopped, and the fighters all got out of their vehicles but even as they searched whatever rooms or halls connecting to the one they were at, the result was the same; Nothing. Not a soul.

"I swear, Colonel, we searched room after room. Not even bodies remain." One of the bikers reported to the colonel, who seemed as puzzled as them. McCollough thought for a moment before he formed a plan in his head.

"Spread out! Search the facility for the control room! Keep your guard up in case it's a trap! We're running out of time!" Colonel McCollough quickly relayed his orders as the large group separated to cover more ground. The wrestlers went with the colonel, the gangsters and bikers went with Elijah, while the psychopaths and loose cannons went with Marshall.

XXX

Headache was the first down the stairway of him, the Colonel, El Tigre, Zapata, Mummy, and Feliz. The masochistic wrestler raised a fist to halt them as he looked side to side, before he unfurled it and motioned for them to go, guns raised as he flipped the light switches next to him. Light flooded the room, revealing shelves stacked with binders filled with papers and documents, caches of weapons and ammunition for Unit Z-7, and some books that seemed tattered and old.

The group lowered their guns with the colonel giving out the orders, "Search the room. Find if there's a map of the facility or anything that can tell us about the ritual." The wrestlers nodded and searched the place, shifting through papers and notes, finding documents that detail the creation of the Z-7s and the Prototypes. But thankfully, Ultra Zapata found something of interest.

"Hey! Found something!" The wrestler shouted to the others, drawing their attention. It was a book, old and tattered yet free of dust or degeneration, the pages soft and leathery, like skin. The group skimmed through the pages, containing maps, log entries, even arcane drawings until they came on the most peculiar page of the book.

It showed a city engulfed in sundering fire and trapped in a dome, black spires in the background with lightning cracking down as snow fell despite the flames. A black stone-like giant that stood in the middle of a circle of ruins and death. Two figures clad in tattered cloaks rested in the foreground, one colored orange with an orb of fire in its palm and the other colored a dark purple with wisps of black around him.

Suffice to say, the group was convinced that this was the page they were looking for with El Tigre taking the book and reading the description.

"'The ritual is known as the 'Apocrypha of Vices.' It can only be performed under... specific circumstances?'" El Tigre blinked, unsure if he read that right before he continued, "'First, the earth is to be sequestered from the sky. Second, it must take place in... a wretched city? Third, the two Prophets must... be... present...'" The wrestler trailed off as the implication hit him and the others like a ton of bricks. Headache took the book from Tigre and continued on, "'Should the conditions be met, and the Apocrypha be completed, The Final Prophecy will commence, and the world will be dragged into the Realm of the Gods, forever to be plagued by nightmares and horrors until the end of eternity itself.'"

The words that escaped his lips caused the group to pause in silence, with the colonel breathing out, "We gotta find that control room. NOW!" The group all rushed out of the room with the book in tow without another word.

XXX

Elijah and his team all wandered through the base with their guns raised in case anything left in the base tried anything funny. Thankfully, for now, the halls seemed more or less empty until they came to the end of the hall where a door was. Cautiously approaching the door, Elijah bent his leg back before unleashing a scissor kick with a karate cry, taking the door off its hinges.

The revealed room was massive, dark, and vacant, void of furniture or equipment except for a pile of bodies and an eerie red light that came from a closed wooden door. It seemed to stretch longer than seemingly possible, like the dark was shrouding something that hungered for all things. Elijah looked lightly unsettled but steeled himself, "All right, homeboys. Look around, we need to find the control room before we're fucked!"

His group nodded and entered the room, using their flashlights so that they don't stumble around in dark. They found nothing other than the pile of dead bodies and the door. The bodies were all wore lab coats over proper suits with their arms and legs tied by the wrists and ankles, black bags over their heads with a bullet hole in the back. Scientists by the looks of it, taken here while tied up with the bags over their heads and shot in the back of the head, maybe over paranoia or pragmaticism but these fools were killed so they don't spill their secrets.

"Poor fuckers." He heard one of the bikers mutter out, but his attention was then focused on something else.

"Yo, shut up!" Elijah silenced them before darting his eyes around and whispering, "Listen." It was a light buzzing sound coming from somewhere, then came a deep bubbling sound like someone clawing for breath, and finally a hissing sound like something unsealing. Elijah wordlessly motioned for them to move up to the door, guns raised in anticipation.

Sweat bleeding from the pores on his forehead, Elijah grasped the knob on the door and inhaled deeply to steel himself before gently forcing the knob to turn. The door creaked before he pushed it open, revealing the origin of the red light.

It was a series of gestation vats filled with a transparent red liquid and muscular male figures that possessed pitch black skin and their only facial features being two blank slanted eyes, sensors placed all around while their frames nary even twitched. There was no bubbling in the liquid from breath, no rapid eye movement, no twitching of the fingers from dreams or impulse, nothing. Monitoring equipment and terminals sat beside the vats, connected through metallic tubes to the vats that either brought oxygen or more fluid into the tanks.

Elijah and his group were stunned by the appearance of these things when he suddenly saw something stamped on the bottom of the vats: Section Z-7

"These are those Z-7 muthafukaz..." Elijah breathed out in shock as did the rest of his group.

"Seemed they haven't been programmed yet." One of them said, walking up to the terminal with the screen reading; 'Input mental commands.' "Better tell the colonel."

The group shook off the chill that ran down their spines, before one of them saw a paper near the terminal. It was a small slip of paper holding a series of numbers and letters, like a password almost. The biker tapped Elijah on the shoulder and gave him the paper when he turned around.

Elijah raised an eyebrow at the paper, "This could come in handy."

XXX

Marshall and his group of psychos and loose cannons through the upper levels of the facility, finding the corpses of human soldiers strewn about the floors with their blood staining the walls. But despite the sight of gore and blood, the group was no closer to the control room. Still, they kept trekking on, hoping to find the control room before they ran out of time.

"Hey, Marshall!" One of his groups got his attention, who was pointing to a directory that showed the control room was just down the hallway. Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Come on!" Marshall yelled to the others as they broke into a sprint for the control room, all of them busting through the door so hard that it was torn off its hinges.

It was dark and filled with equipment, a single terminal with a desk chair sitting in front of a wall spanning screen filled with static. The leader of the group sat down on the desk chair and just typed a few keys on the keyboard. The static filled screen immediately turned to an image that held a white rectangle with a blinking cursor and a message in white above. "ENTER PASSWORD." Deciding that he needed help, Marshall pulled the walkie talkie out of his pocket and radioed the colonel.

"Colonel! It's Marshall! I got good news and bad news. We found the control room but there's a problem; the mainframe needs a password!" Marshall yelled into the radio as he hoped whatever options that came his way were good ones. Sure enough, the colonel came on the radio, but his news wasn't good.

"Damnit! I got nothing! Try to find anything in the control room that resembles a password!" It was not much of an option, but it was better than nothing. Suddenly, though, another voice came on the radio before any of them did anything.

"I got you, fam!" Elijah came through the comms, surprising the blond man, "Try this! 2MJDTFKJDNVU77788S225." Marshall, deciding what the hell, typed in the code to the terminal as quick as he could without misspelling anything. The message was replaced with another in yellow that nearly took up the screen. "OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. PLEASE INPUT COMMAND."

"Alright, Elijah!" Marshall grinned before he typed in his command onto the system, "Dis... able... the... Dome." He muttered out before pressing Enter on the keyboard. "DISABLING DOME." appeared in white before it showed an image of the Dome slowly beginning to recede with the percentage being 2% and rising.

"Colonel, it worked like a charm!"

"All right, then!" The colonel yelled over the radio to the other teams, sounds of running coming from the background, "Everyone rendezvous at the convoy and let's haul ass before those fuckers realize what's happening!"

The group quickly sprinted out of the room, running like their lives depended on it.

XXX

5 minutes later...

The hall where the convoy sat was soon filled with the entirety of Gold Team, quickly entering the vehicles and reeving them up, backing out of facility as quickly and orderly as they could. Colonel McCollough barking out orders like a madman before they all exited the facility and into the snow filled wasteland. In the sky, they could vaguely see the varnish-like dome slowly receding into the Walls.

"All right! The Dome's down! Now, haul ass to DMC! We have a war to finish!" The colonel yelled out loud with Gold Team whooping in excitement as they sped to DMC to finish off the Knights and their plans.

10 minutes ago...

DMC City Hall

The streets were empty, the buildings abandoned and dead bodies littering the roads, and a thick fog began proliferating the air while snow came down, brightened by the fire and unholy lights. Shakespeare and his squad of gangers, bikers, and soldiers all jogged down the street, weapons ready in case of anything that was itching for a fight crossed their paths. The capital of the wretched city seemed to be ablaze with tendrils of red, while echoes of unholy things emerged from the center, and a dark and blasphemous laugh rang through the air.

Shakespeare's eye narrowed; they were running out of time. Him and his squad stopped at a corner that led to the city hall, while Shakespeare peaked around the corner only to snap back to cover. He saw some Section Z-7 officers patrolling around the City Hall, likely to shoot them in case they got too close. If they can't get to City Hall in time, then the whole world's fucked.

"Shakespeare to Ebon. Come in, Ebon." Shakespeare whispered into his walkie talkie, keeping his eye on the Z-7s in case any of them turned to their direction, "We have encountered Section Z-7 officers and they're blocking our way to City Hall. Please advise, over." His answer came in the form of an explosion that was somewhat near the Z-7s, getting their attention and causing them to run towards the explosion, thinking that it could be some of the rebels.

"There's your solution. Now, hurry, we're running out of time." Ebon came on the radio, getting right to the point.

"Those two..." Shakespeare muttered but shoved his exasperation down as he jogged through the snow alongside his squad. A feeling of unease came over him and his squad as they got closer, but they shook it off and kept running to City Hall.

A few miles later, they met up with the Prophets and the Luchadores; El Diablo, Jesse Christ, Espirito, and Becquerel Boy. All of them running, or in Hotstreak's case; flying at top speeds to the corrupted City Hall in front of them. It was the picture of a nightmare; pink, pulsing flesh wrapped around each part with eyes seemingly growing in random points, bodies of unfortunate victims fused to the melding stone as they silently screamed for death, a circle of red robed cultists joined in hands around a pyre of red flame-like tendrils that lashed and snapped at the air.

Before they could do anything though, a roar was heard behind. Shakespeare turned to see several more cultist racing towards them. Growling in annoyance, Shakespeare yelled to Ebon's group, "You go on! We'll handle these punks!" They didn't have time to stop and nod, only getting a thumbs up from Ebon before they sprinted on, not seeing a massive wall of stone emerge from behind Shakespeare and his crew.

Ebon, Hotstreak, and the Luchadores stopped a few feet from the circle as Mr. K randomly appeared in front of them, still in his business suit and giving them an affable smile. The group readied their powers that only caused the leader of the Daemon Knights to gain a bigger smile.

"Mr. Evans, Mr. Stone. How nice to meet you." Mr. K said, straightening his tie before abruptly raising his left arm up. Suddenly, the stone around them deformed and shifted, flowing up like liquid and forming into human-sized hands that closed on them. The Prophets and the Luchas were too surprised to react in time, trapping them in the grip of the massive stone hands, even as they struggled.

"You know, I had a speech planned but looking back, I already gave you one. So, I'll merely kill you." Mr. K uttered out before he started to change.

(Hollow Knight: Gods & Nightmares OST - The Grimm Troupe)

His suit merged with his flesh that suddenly became stone before he started growing, six spike grew from his back while his nose and mouth disappeared and were replaced by four eyes, all of which turned a bright red. Mr. K now resembled a colossus of stone and concrete, long and lean with six long spikes on the back that facing in all directions, a face with six red markings that resembled eyes with white slanted pupils. The frame was nearly skeletal with the exception of the lower half that was merely a pillar made of stone tentacles intertwined.

The group all gawked at Mr. K's form before the transformed leader elongated his arms that rocketed towards the Prophets, intending to skewer them into pulp. Reacting faster than a normal man could, Ebon slipped through the hand that was holding him before elongating his arm and forming it into a portal like shape before the arm could slash Hotstreak in half. The arm broke off when Ebon reformed his arm before Hotstreak then gained an angry expression, white hot flames forming around him before he roared in holy rage, shattered the stone hand that held him.

The Prophet of Light sent out torrent of fire, launching him into the air before he spun and dived at Mr. K, who reformed his arm and shot it at him. Hotstreak formed a massive fireball before he kicked it, sending it hurling at Mr. K who quickly formed a shield from his left arm, protecting him from the blast. The Prophet of Shadows formed several tendrils that slashed at various parts, only scratching the skin before the giant deformed his arm into a sword that he used to slash at them.

"Come on, guys! We gotta help them!" Espirito yelled to the others, with the wrestlers struggling against the stone hands that were holding them. El Diablo let out a roar as he wrenched himself out of the stone, Jesse following behind with his thorns, and Espirito and Becquerel Boy following. Jesse lashed out his thorny vines, wrapping them around Mr. K's arms, barely holding the titan back before El Diablo leapt into the air with a flaming fist, ramming it into the titan's chest. The force nearly took Mr. K off his feet, before Hotstreak slugged him across the face with his own flaming fist, cracking the cheek with a fist shaped indent.

Mr. K, seemingly annoyed, formed spikes from every part of him to keep them away, only for several beams of light to strike him from Espirito. Turning to the white and gold wrestler, the stone giant enlarged his fist and shifted it into a mace-like form, ramming it down at Espirito whom flashed out of the way as the mace punctured the ground before he started peppering the giant with spears of ghostly fire.

"You guys handle the stone Goliath, I got the cultists!" Becquerel Boy yelled out loud as he channeled the radiation inside him into his hammer before slamming it into the ground, sending a trail of radiation at the circle of cultists, breaking the circle and causing the cultists to be burned by both radiation and fire, screaming in radiation induced agony. "SERMON'S OVER, FREAKS!"

The pyre seemed to unravel lightly as reality seemed to shudder, screams of things in the other world echoed through the city, and those fused to City Hall all bellowed in psychotic wailing. Mr. K turned to see the circle broken, having his equivalent of an aghast expression as he saw the broken pyre of red.

"The song... you are discording it!" The giant roared in fury, extending tendrils of stone to the hazmat wearing wrestler, who batted them away with his stone hammer before he began blasting Mr. K with orbs of radiation that blew chucks off the giant that were replaced as quickly as they were destroyed, but this, combined with the strikes from the Prophets and the other Luchadores, was quickly forcing him back.

Realizing this, the stone Knight formed several smaller facsimiles in his likeness, retreating back and forcing them to fight the Prophets while he can salvage the Apocrypha. A facsimile lashed out its arm in a tendril-like fashion at Espirito, who swiftly ducked and fired a ball of white fire from his hand at the same time, blowing off the arm that quickly reformed. El Diablo started beating down the facsimile that was attacking him with his flaming fists, but it was reforming faster than he could damage it, soon twisting and contorting out of the way of his punches before striking back at him. Jesse formed his vines as a shield that broke the strike of the stone facsimile, shattering its arm before he cleaved it in half with a sword formed from his thorns, but it pulled itself back together almost instantly, causing Jesse to groan in annoyance as he readied himself for a bigger fight. Becquerel Boy was having it the easiest with his radiation blasts, but the facsimile got smart and gained a bulkier frame to protect itself, so he was resorting to using bigger blasts to keep it hurting.

Ebon and Hotstreak weren't bothering with the facsimiles as they engaged Mr. K directly, the latter unleashing fireballs that were nearly as hot as the surface of the sun while the former pulled out the rifles that he stole from Golgotha and started firing on the giant Knight, disrupting him from keeping the Apocrypha going. In desperation, Mr. K backed into City Hall and started assimilating part of it into himself, increasing the size of his form and giving him an extra layer of mass. The leader of the Knights created a shield that protected him from the Prophet's assault and simultaneously forming tendrils that had hands at the end, trying to keep the pyre from unraveling completely.

Hotstreak let out a psychotic scream as he unleashed a stream of white flames that impacted the shield, that began to melt from the heat before he gets hit in the gut by one of the stone tendrils, knocking the wind out of him and dispersing the flames. Seeing this, Ebon fired on the giant as he helped his coughing friend up, but a dry fire showed that it was out of ammo, but he merely stored it back in his body and jumped back before Mr. K crushed him with his giant fist. Before either of them could counterattack, Mr. K elongated his arms and grabbed the two in both his hands.

If Mr. K's expression was visible, it would have been a mixture of anger and mild impress, "Impressive as this is, your deaths are needed. So, I will provide them." The leader of the Knights begrudgingly complimented them before he started to tighten his grip, slowly crushing the two Prophets.

Suddenly, a dark tendril with streaks of red pierced through Mr. K's arms, cleaving it off before a bullet struck him in the head and then exploded, blowing off a large chunk of the knight's body. The rest of Mr. K dissolved into gray stone tendrils that dug themselves into the concrete, absorbing and assimilating the material to rebuild himself while the Prophets turned to see the culprits... and their mouths were wide open at seeing them.

Standing just by was Agent Crocodile and Bruce, their guns raised with the barrels smoking, confirming that it was them who fired the shots. Crocodile was a little worse for wear as he had a Glasgow smile scar on his right cheek while Bruce had changed from his usual white suit to a red one with a black dress shirt and red tie. Both glared at Mr. K before their gaze turned to the Prophets.

"No one kills you but us." Bruce answered whatever question either of the two could ask, both extending a hand that the Prophets begrudgingly took; Ebon took Bruce's and Hotstreak took Crocodile's before they were raised to their feet.

"This changes nothing." Hotstreak made it clear to the two, both of whom nodded when suddenly, Mr. K reappeared, now having rebuilt himself from the concrete from the street and looking quite pissed off.

"MR. MACCABEE! AGENT CROCODILE! HOW COULD YOU BETRAY ME!?"

"Simple. You piss us off." Agent Crocodile replied, leveling his Dragunov at the giant with Bruce doing the same with his .44 Magnum.

"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Mr. K roared out, turning to the remaining Prototypes and Knights in the city, "MY KNIGHTS, MANTI, DESTROY THEM!" Suddenly, they hear the roars of all the nearby Knights and Prototypes, quickly approaching faster than expected. The obese Knight stomped towards them, intending to crush them into pulp that he could slurp up...

(Bayonetta OST: The Greatest Jubilee)

...only for an uncountable amount of cockroaches to burst from a manhole that was in front of him, all joining to form a hand that grabbed the Knight by the neck and lifted him into the air. The hand then squeezed the Knight's head so hard that it popped into a spray of gore, countless more roaches flowing from the sewers to take a familiar shape, one that both the Prophets and the Luchas remembered.

"Blatta!" They all shouted in joy at seeing an ally. The facsimiles stopped fighting and stared on at the Roach God along with Mr. K and the other Knights that looked on in shock of the God's appearance.

"You will not harm my masters!" Blatta roared as his fist deformed into a hammer shape and crushed the nearest Prototype to pulp before several tendrils of roaches burst out of his chest and speared through other Prototypes and Knights, grabbing the facsimiles and hurling them away, "Hurry, my masters! The ritual must be stopped!"

The group all then turned back to Mr. K, who glared down furiously at them. The titan of stone suddenly formed several dozen fists that rocketed towards the group, whom all leapt out of the way as Ebon and Crocodile lashed out tendrils of shadow, cleaving at the Knight's head before the Luchas, Bruce, and Hotstreak all elbowed him in the chest with the velocity of a comet, breaking through him but it sealed in just a second. K extended long spikes of stone from all over his body to skewer them, but they were nimble enough to jump or sidestep out of the way before they ran up the spikes and attacked.

K bent and shifted his form to try and strike at them but either because they were too swift or that he was unpracticed with this form, they kept evading his strikes. A strike from Hotstreak and a shot from Bruce proved that he was losing the fight. So, it was time to enact his last resort.

The leader of the Daemon Knights leapt into the air, landing at the top of City Hall before the tendrils that made up his lower half dug themselves into the white marble. The white rock slowly fused and integrated into his form, features and structures warping and reforming, the faces of those fused to the building disappeared into the marble, and the fetid sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing.

K now resembled a massive creature composed of marble with the upper half of a humanoid with a featureless face, white dragon-like wings with bright red fleshy membranes, a collar with spikes around the neck and shoulders, muscular clawed hands, and the lower half of a spider with thick sharp legs. He roared out in a discordant and echoing roar despite him having no mouth.

The group were all slack jawed at the leader's newest form but before any of them could react, the monster rammed his fist through the space where they were a second ago when Espirito flashed them all away, putting a massive hole in the ground near the pyre. Massive pillar-sized spikes then grew from all over his body before he shot them out, sending the group either scrambling for cover or using their powers to destroy the shots. Hotstreak and Becquerel Boy then began firing blasts at the monster immediately who raised thick marble spires that intercepted their blasts before he then shot into the air with his wings flaring, diving down with his fist reared back.

K's punch was like the force of a tactical nuke, sending dust and debris flying in a tidal wave of seismic force that would have killed the group had Jesse not formed a massive shield made of his vines that projected them from the blast, layers upon layers shooting up as the debris crashed through the vines or got stuck in them. The group was seemed fine... except for a piece of shrapnel that pierced through Jesse's white shirt and through his side. A grunt of pain escaped Jesse's mouth but that was all that came out as El Diablo and Espirito got him to his feet, the former ripped the piece out and used his flaming hand to cauterize the wound while the latter looked on in case Mr. K tried to attack.

"You, okay?" El Diablo asked his friend/rival.

"Relax, you puta, I'm fine. But... I might be out of the fight for a bit." Jesse grunted as he tried to sit up despite the pain. Suddenly, the shield of thorns was pierced by the marble claws of Mr. K before tearing it open, revealing the leader of the Knights glaring down on them despite his eyeless face.

"All right... YOU ASKED FOR IT, MOTHERFUCKER!" El Diablo yelled out before flames started forming and surrounding him. The devil themed wrestler leapt into the air like a comet, ramming into Mr. K's chest and taking the stone Knight clean off his feet, sending him through a myriad of buildings before he could recuperate. The flames grew in intensity before they cleared, revealing a transformed El Diablo.

El Diablo was now a large red-skinned demon with black fur covering his lower body and around the neck area especially with his long hair, a barreled chest and large muscles, leathery wings growing out of his back, a pair of smaller but noticeably tightened veins wings come out of the sides of his, and curved upward facing horns that stuck out of the top of his head, and a pair yellow eyes with no irises on his face, as well as razor sharp teeth and claws.**

The group all stared in shock, expect the wrestlers, with Diablo himself immediately taking notice, "What? I'm not called 'El Diablo' for nothing!" The transformed El Diablo snarked in a two-toned voice before he saw Mr. K getting up, whatever injures that he sustained to disappear or seal up.

Getting an idea, Ebon and Hotstreak launch to Diablo's shoulders before they whispered their plan to the surprised meta's ears, who gave a grin at the plan. Ebon formed tendrils of shadow that curled around Diablo's right arm before they reached his hand, then forming into a scimitar blade composed of shadows large enough for the demon to wield. Hotstreak formed streams of fired that coiled around Diablo's left arm before they formed to a second scimitar in his hand. The transformed El Diablo roared as he brandished his new blades of shadow and fire.

Mr. K didn't appear intimidated as he flared his wings into the air, signifying a challenge.

Grinning in excitement, El Diablo raised the shadow blade at the approaching stone monster before he said in his native Spanish, "***Mr. K, hablo por los muertos. Y dicen; Prepararse para morir." The demon speared towards the marble giant in a flash of black and red, cleaving a massive horizontal scar across K's chest that then became a maw of red fangs that snapped at the former, but he was nimble enough to evade it before slashing away stone tendrils that came from the collar. Diablo lashed the shadow blade which deformed into a whip that slashed K's face, then using the flaming sword to strike the marble shell, leaving a massive molten scar on the shoulder that was bubbling and steaming.

Not reacting in pain, K formed his right hand into a drill and tried to skewer it at El Diablo and the Prophets, who dodged before Hotstreak let out a white beam of flames from his mouth that slashed the arm off only to the stump to liquify and connect to the severed arm before it reconnected to the rest of the limb. Pillar-sized spikes formed on the left hand before K fired them at the trio, only for Ebon to form and elongate a tendril as a portal that absorbed the spikes. Deciding to finish this, Diablo and the Prophets speared towards the giant with the blades at the ready, diving down as K extended an arm to skewer them only for Diablo to cleave through the arm and then through K's entire torso, slashing the giant in half.

(Music ends)

Tendrils extended from both halves, coiling around each other and reconnecting both halves with the leader of the Knights more annoyed than anything and the trio groaning in frustration. Suddenly, a blast of wind came from flowing from above, causing everyone to stop fighting. Clouds parted to reveal the dome, ebbing away as the nanites disassembled and flowed back into the walls, letting the cold and Warp-tainted air from the outside into the depths of DMC.

XXX

Unseen in the distance was Professor Fagor, now sitting on a building a few kilometers away from the walls, where he saw Shakespeare survive the onslaught of mutants and cultists while reinforcements came from the rest of the Big One. Seeing the dome recede, Fagor smiled, now he can stop this. Opening his bag, the professor took a bottle of smelling salts and poured it into the shape of a circle before then placing four pieces of silver into the circle. He then took out an elixir bottle from his bag, opening the top, placing incense sticks, and lighting them.

Once that was done, Fagor began uttering out words in dead languages, chanting to whatever force was out there to help. The salts ignited into white flames that engulfed the circle, the pieces of silver then floated into the air as the elixir flowed and swirled around them, melting them into liquid before shaping them into an arrow. It then solidified before then flames extinguished, revealing the circle and incense to be gone and the elixir bottle to be empty. The silver arrow fell into his palm, now quite cool despite its recent formation.

"Good. Time to end this." Professor Fagor whispered, taking out a bow from his bag and taking aim with the silver arrow at the pyre that was starting to flicker and unravel. Even if the dome is down, they could still restart the ritual by reactivating it, so he had to do this now while he had a chance.

The Professor took aim at the pyre, pulling the arrow string taunt, closing his left eye, before he then let go. The arrow flew at the pyre like a comet, igniting it into a blast of white flames that quickly burned it away, silencing the ritual forever.

XXX

"No..." Mr. K whispered as he stared at the receding dome and the pyre unraveling and dissipating from the silver arrow. Without the dome or the pyre, the Apocrypha cannot be performed. Blatta would have let out a breath of relief if he had a big enough mouth, while the remaining Knights let out a collective bellowing cry of rage and slaughtered the remaining Prototypes to vent.

The wrestlers all yelled out in cheers while Bruce and Crocodile merely gave a impressed smirk. Becquerel Boy yelled out to everyone as he brandished his hammer at Mr. K, "LET'S FINISH HIM OFF, BOYS!"

Another cheer arose from the wrestlers as Hotstreak, El Diablo, Espirito, and Becquerel Boy readied orbs of fire and radiation that were quickly growing to the size of boulders. Mr. K let out a roar as he sent forth a myriad of tendrils at the group in a last attempt to kill them, only for Ebon to elongate his arm to absurd lengths and cleave through them like butter before the limb unraveled into thousands of tendrils that snared K from every part of his form, restraining him from dodging or counterattacking even as he struggled.

"What the fuck?! You could do that the whole time?!" Hotstreak yelled at him in disbelief.

"Just hurry!" Ebon snapped back, not having the time for this.

Sieging the chance, the group to unleash their attack; a massive beam of fire and radiation that rocketed toward the leader of the Knights who looked on it what seemed like panic before Ebon's tendrils quickly retracted. The beam struck him in the chest before it exploded in a boom of pure force, leveling several nearby buildings in a blast of radiation and fire that shook all of DMC. Abandoning his fight with the Knights, Blatta quickly raced towards the group and shielded them from the blast and the group all huddled together as Crocodile's spectral matter formed around the Roach God as an extra layer of protection while the Knights all transformed back into their human forms and dove behind whatever cover they could get behind.

The wave of radioactive fire washed over the area until it hit the stone wall that Shakespeare was behind, shaking the foundation of the city as a mushroom cloud of dust and fire washed up through the air like Hiroshima. Several minutes later, the dust finally settled as Blatta uncovered the group and the spectral matter receded, revealing the tired and exhausted group, Diablo was back in his human form with his clothes intact while everyone else was covered in dust and soot.

Espirito breathed through his nose and breathed, "Did that get him?" There was several minutes of silence before his question was answered when a shifting sound was heard, along with the sounds of rocks breaking and water flowing.

"You gotta be be fucking kidding me..." None of them care which one said that as they all back up with Bruce and Crocodile raising their guns at whom they knew was coming. Sure enough, from the dust came Mr. K.

(Borderlands 3 Official Soundtrack- An Endless Blade)

The blast certainty had an effect on him; all that was left of him was a mishmash of concrete and marble held together in a 13-foot-tall humanoid form by a dark blue viscous substance that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. The head was merely a chunk of oddly smoothened out marble in the shape of a face while the limbs were bent in unnatural ways like a beginning puppeteer pulling on the strings of a marionette.

Before any of them could react, K backhanded both Ebon and Hotstreak away before kneeing Espirito in the face and then uppercutted Jesse away. Becquerel Boy got in a blow with his hammer before he was scissor-kicked away, K then brought his fist down on Agent Crocodile, who shaped the dark matter as a shield before Bruce shot the leader wherever the heart was. K tried to crush his former enforcer to pulp but Crocodile pushed him out of the way and then shaped his shadows as a gigantic fist that slugged K across the face, sending the stone Knight away.

Bruce looked at his associate with an impressed expression, "Not bad, Croc." Crocodile's mere response was to help his boss to his feet while the others got back up to fight again.

"Fuck! When did he get so nimble?" None had a chance to answer Hotstreak as K reappeared and then uppercutted him away before he smacked Ebon, Jesse, and Bruce away when Becquerel Boy smacked him upside the head with his hammer before both Espirito and El Diablo used an open palm strike that sent the Knight flying into a building was leveled upon impact.

K shot out of the ruined building in an instant before Hotstreak intercepted him as he used his flames to propel himself like a rocket. The two reared a fist back for their punches connected and the shockwave blew them back, before Hotstreak clotheslined the Knight with a spin kick that sent the latter to the ground. Mr. K got up just in time to dodge a punch from Espirito before kicking the white and gold wrestler away and then decking a charging El Diablo before Hotstreak then hit him in the back of the head with a fire ball. K backhanded the Prophet of Light away before he was slashed in the back by the Prophet of Shadows who was then uppercutted away into a building.

Tired of this fight, the leader of the Knights extends black viscous tendrils that embedded themselves in whatever rubble was nearby, combined them into a massive platform with numerous arms and legs that he stood on and used to beat down his attackers while also grabbing and throwing large pieces of rubble to crush them. Blatta quickly formed in front of K as the latter lashed out his numerous stone arms into the former, before his form coiling around the stone limbs and delivering as left hook to K's face, though it barely seemed to be slowed down.

Agent Crocodile grit his teeth, they were getting slaughtered by the leader of the Knights and nothing they could do seemed to slow him down. Suddenly, he felt a presence beside him, causing him to turn and see someone that would have been a familiar man to the Luchas. It was the Padre, now cloaked in a tattered and rugged robe with his mask covered in dust and ash.

(Music Ends)

"Hello, I presume you are Agent Crocodile?" The Padre asked the insane man, who nodded in confusion, "Good. Then I shall be the quick. I can help."

"How?"

"You saw how the Luchas have powers like Metahumans?" He asked Crocodile again, who nodded before he continued, "Well, as do I. But mine is... one of self-sacrifice. If I use it, my body is overloaded with an energy unlike any... but in doing so, I burst apart, dying in the process. In layman's terms, I use it once and I die."

Crocodile scoffed at the Padre's explanation, "So, your power is that you're a living nuke?" At seeing the old priest nod in confirmation, the insane man gave an expression of genuine pity, "Man, that's fucked up."

"Indeed. But it's one that I bear with all my pride." The Padre replied, not afraid to die for the people he knows and loves, "If the time for me to us it now, then I will do it with no objections."

"All right, if you insist, old man." Crocodile replied, hoisting the old man up and slowly get closer to the brawl between Blatta and K before the Luchas saw the two and gave shocked expressions.

"Padre?!" Jesse yelled out, immediately realizing what the old man was planning but the Padre merely held up a hand and gave the wrestlers a sorrowful look.

"If the Lord says that it is my time, then I go with nothing but open arms." The Padre tells them with a heavy heart, looking to the insane man, "I am ready." Crocodile nodded before his shadows formed a massive claw, taking the Padre into its palm and then rearing it back like he was about to pitch a midget sized baseball.

"EVERYONE, GET BACK!" Crocodile yelled before chucking the Padre at the stone Knight that was still dueling Blatta. The Luchas, except El Diablo, yelled to the Padre and tried to charge in to save him, but the devil themed wrestler and the Prophet of Shadows held them back before the group quickly bolted to whatever cover they could find. Blatta saw the Padre flying towards them, and acting quickly, slugged K across the face to distract him before unforming into a swarm of roaches that got away, just as K regained his bearings and saw the old man.

Feeling the power swelling up inside him, the Padre roared out to Mr. K before he flew headfirst into the monster, "THIS WORLD IS NOT YOURS!"

With that, the Priest's body burned a bright red before it burst into a rose-colored explosion that rocked the city, destroying whatever was left of the City Hall of DMC. Quakes erupted, sending shockwaves through the city and collapsing the walls that kept the center of the city block off from the rest of DMC.

Blatta quickly shielded the group from the blast, even as it was burning away the first layer of roaches that made up his form that were quickly replaced by roaches from the sewers, while the smoke cloud took the form of a gargantuan blooming rose with bright red flames flowing in streaks. Whatever remained of City Hall, the streets, and whatever plant-life was left was reduced to smoldering slag. The remaining Knights and Prototypes were caught in the blast, stripping the flesh from their bones and the chitin from their flesh before the rest was reduced to ash.

What felt like hours passed before Blatta uncovered the group, allowing them to the destroyed center of DMC. It was like a nuke had gone off. A crater was all that was left of City Hall, filled with magma and melting slabs of stone. A bath of smoldering landscapes, patches of molten orange with steam raising, buildings reduced to nothing but heaps of melting rubble.

The group were all nearly left breathless by the sight of the crater before Espirito managed to muster up the courage to ask, "Did that get him?"

His answer came when even after the dust finally settled, there was only silence. Not a sound even among the steam hissing into the air, shifting of rubble, or the sound of pieces falling gave any hint that Mr. K survived. Unseen to all of them, was Mr. K back in his human form, suit intact while crawling away and resting on a patch of rubble that wasn't boiling hot.

"Yeah, I think Padre got him..." Jesse let out a choked sound, fighting the tears that were coming down his face at seeing the closest person he had to a father figure sacrifice himself to destroy the Knights. El Diablo remained stoic but lowered his head in respect, Becquerel Boy lowered his head because his mask hid the tears, Espirito lowered his head and conjured ghostly flames that took the shape of the Padre, who bowed before dissipating. The Prophets, Bruce, and Crocodile said nothing in respect, knowing what it was like to lose a loved one.

"HEY, GUYS! I FOUND THEM!" A familiar voice came to them, causing the group to turn to the source. It was Willy, flying to them with his bat-like wings open, and following him was Luna, Shakespeare, Elijah, Colonel McCollough, the rest of the Lucha Ultima, and the rest of the Big One coming their way. Once they got close though, their army all stopped and stared on at the devastated site with wide eyes and slackened jaws.

"HOLY SHIT!" Willy exclaimed when he saw the area where the blast was, looking at the Prophets in shock, "What did you douchebags do?! It's like a motherfucking nuke went off!"

The Prophets looked at each other awkwardly before Hotstreak replied to his friend, "It's a long story." The others looked at them incredulously, thinking what the explanation could be for whatever happened here. Suddenly, the ground shook from something unknown, nearly causing the the group to nearly lose their balance.

(Dark Souls 2 OST- Burnt Ivory King)

Just as sudden, the sky turned a bright red despite it being midnight, causing the people to look up as the clouds rippling and flowing apart before it revealed what was in the sky. A superweapon charging a beam of red would be rocketing towards the earth, surrounded by vast swathes of ships sitting in the upper atmosphere. It was hurling at them like a meteor of light and fury, able to pierce through the planet like a piece of wet paper before being reduced to nothing but rocks and magma.

This was it, the end of the world. No one could do anything about it, but to simply look on as death swung its scythe upon the planet to reap the lives of everything on it.

Knowing this was the end, Luna curled next to Ebon, not caring what the others thought. Shakespeare and Elijah merely fist-bumped after the former quoted his namesake again, "'To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...'"

"Hey, Willy? If this is the end, I got something to say." Hotstreak told the anthropomorphic bat that looked at him with an irritated expression.

"If you say, 'I love you', I swear to God-" Willy said before he was cut off.

"You're the biggest fucking cunt in the entire world." Hotstreak replied, staring at him with a deadpan expression.

"Oh."

Hotstreak then looked back up to the light in the sky that was about to come crashing down towards them, "You're also the only other friend in DMC that I have."

Willy was silent with widened eyes before he looked up at the sky and muttered, "...You too, man."

The Luchas all shared a flask of Tequila that El Diablo kept with him, that was thankfully cold from the cold front that had suddenly enveloped the city. El Diablo fist bumped his rival/friend Jesse in one last sign of their friendship. Bruce remained stoic as ever while lighting a cigarette. Crocodile just popped a flask that he kept with him, thankful that it was still cold. Marshall merely pulled out the only cigar in his pocket and lit it, deciding to use it while he was still alive. The Colonel merely saluted the remaining troopers that were deployed alongside him as did they in return. Everyone else merely took a breath and accepted their fate.

Unseen to all of them, was Mr. K, staring into the sky at the Hand of the Gods. 'So, it has come to this, Lord Tzeentch, Khorne, Nurgle, and Slaanesh? ...Very well, if it is the call of the Gods, then I will answer.' Mr. K thinks to himself as he closes his eyes, accepting his fate and feeling the Spear of Arrakis ready to fire.

(0:30)

Just a moment later, the Spear of Arrakis fired. A wave motion beam of pure rage and hate incarnate flashed towards the planet with nothing to stop it.

(0:58)

Suddenly, a thin line of blackness speared through the skies and intercepted the beam of pure destruction. It then expanded to nearly encompass the planet, preventing the beam from destroying the planet and ending the lives of all those who lived in it. The planet quakes from the shockwaves, blasts of malice scouring through the skies before being consumed by the blackness, and pulses of blasphemous weight cracking against whatever force saved the planet.

The group, alongside the unseen Mr. K, were rendered silent by the eclipsing blackness, barely able to keep their footing as the ground shook violently once more. A minute passed before the blackness receded, revealing the Hand of the Gods to nearly be in ruins along with the wreckage of thousands of ships in space. The group was silent as a grave for several moments before Elijah broke it with a cheer.

(Music Ends at 1:30)

"YEAH! THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MESS WITH EARTH, MUTAFUKAZ!" Elijah cheered out loud, being quickly joined by everyone else except for Bruce who merely crossed his arms and gave a smirk while Crocodile raised his arm and gave a holler. Luna was cheering as well before she saw her father laying against a collapsed building, quickly moving through the celebrating crowd and got to her father, who was surprised to see her.

"Um... Hi, daddy." Luna got to her knees next to her father, who looked all most pleased to see her as he took a hand in hers. Suddenly, she noticed that cracks were beginning to spread from somewhere on his body, signifying when his foot broke off, suit and all. He was dying.

The leader of the Knights only releases a soft breath, adjusting his tie with his remaining hand before gazing up at the snow filled sky. "Such a beautiful planet the humans have." He smiled as he felt his body decay and fall apart.

"...You're taking this pretty well, dad."

"There was always a possibility." Mr. K said peacefully as he closed his eyes. Suddenly, the cracks spread to his face and head, breaking both in twain before the rest of him crumbled away, leaving only his left hand in his daughter's. Luna let a few tears loose even as her father's hand crumbled to dust in her hand, despite everything, the lies, and the hatred, she still loved him.

"I love you, daddy..." Luna whispered as she put her hands to her heart, tears coming down her face before she left Ivan's hand on her shoulder. She turned to see him giving her a sympathetic expression, despite who her father was.

"Luna... We didn't have a choice." Ebon whispered to her, understanding her grief even as she wiped her tears off her face.

"I know... But he's not gone in my heart." Luna muttered before she stood up, letting Ivan pat her on the shoulder in sympathy. The two silently agreed to not talk about her nature as a Knight, even though it could help in a way.

As Luna slid back into the partying crowd while keeping her grief in, Ebon caught Bruce glaring at him like a hunter taking sight of his prey. The Prophet of Shadows immediately knew what that meant; he wanted to finish the job.

Looking around to make sure everyone else was distracted, Ebon met Bruce's gaze and made a motion with his head. Bruce nodded, not changing his expression even as the two walked away from the crowd to finish their fight.

2 minutes later...

DMC: Southland Neighborhood

Snow covered the neighborhood where they had fought Crocodile, now silent as a grave even when the Prophet of Shadows and Bruce immerged from the ground through the latter taking them here. The two were simply staring at each other as they circled each other, Bruce wordlessly reloaded his golden Colt Python and Ebon wordlessly cracking his neck.

"I'm gonna enjoy putting you down." Bruce growled out, ready to break the shadow man in two.

"Before you do, Bruce, can I ask why?" Ebon asked the enforcer, who raised an eyebrow at him before he corrected, "I mean, why do you wanna finish the job? Mr. K is dead, the Knights are gone, the corrupt MIB is all but destroyed, and there's nothing left for you to do? Why are you obsessed with finishing the job?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes but sighed, thinking that he might as well explain before he did the deed.

"20 years ago. Jersey. I used to have a family. Was still in the mob but had a life other than taking jobs and dealing out dirty money." Bruce recalled the tale of how he got involved in all this, "Had a lover named Mei, she'd just given birth to my kid. We talked about leaving it all behind and living quietly, watching our kid grow up to be a better man. But then came the job at Blackwood Cemetery, three scumbags stole money from us, so I shot two of em dead. But when I tried to shoot the third, the stovepipe of my gun jammed. Cause there was such a low chance of it happening, I took it as a sign and let him go, told him that it was his lucky day. Then 3 months later, I came back home. House was quiet, I got up to the bedroom... and there was Mei and my kid dead, with YOUR LUCKY DAY written in blood on the wall."

Ebon's eyebrows were at his hairline at that sentence, but Bruce continued on, "After that, I tracked the bastard down and I tortured him, drew out every last scream, ripped off his fingers, arm, leg, balls, and one of his eyes, before I then shocked him until he was coughing up blood and vomit. Then I drew his death as slow and painful as possible. After that, I swore that I would never leave a job unfinished, no matter what."

"Sound's like you had a hard life." Ebon said in a soft tone, sounding like he sympathized.

Bruce looked down, still thinking about how he reacted to seeing Mei in a pool of her own blood, "Yeah."

"Good thing it's over." Ebon drew out one of the revolvers that he stole from the Z-7s quicker than the eye could follow and fired. Reacting just as quickly, Bruce raised his golden revolver and fired. The two bullets collided head on, deflecting each other away with neither of the shooters harmed in the slightest.

(Metal Gear Rising Revengeance OST: Collective Consciousness)

Ebon raised an eyebrow before looking at the handcannon in his hand. He then pointed the gun up in the air before it sunk into his form again, never taking his eyes off of Bruce before he then took a stance with his fists raised. Bruce cocked an eyebrow as well when a smirk crossed his face, he then turned on the safety of his Colt Python and holstered it before raising his fists.

The two broke into a sprint with a furious roar before their fists collided head on. Bruce then slugged Ebon across the face and the latter uppercutted the former in the jaw, causing both to stumble back. Ebon elongated a fist at the enforcer, who dodged and then spin kicked him, sending his back before Bruce then brought both of his fists down on Ebon's head, a blow that would have cracked his skull if he still had one. The Prophet of Shadows twisted away from a left hook before he right-hooked Bruce in the cheek that didn't slow him down as he punched Ebon in the gut, knocking the wind out of him despite the fact that he has no lungs. Bruce threw another punch, only for Ebon to catch it and then slug him across the face before scissor kicking him, pushing him back slightly.

"Not bad for someone who's skin feels like latex." Bruce complimented before he surprised Ebon by jumping and spin-kicking him in the face, then elbowed the Prophet of Shadows in neck, sending him down to the ground. Ebon twisted out of the way when Bruce attempted to stomp his head in before backhanding him away and socking him in the jaw, but Bruce didn't even grunt in pain before he headbutted Ebon, kneed him in the stomach, and then delivered a right hook across his face. The Prophet of Shadows tried to deliver a knife hand to the neck, only for Bruce to block it and then sock him in the face, then trying to deliver a kick but Ebon blocked it with his arm and lashed out his other arm to strike him but Bruce ducked in time, backflipping and kicking Ebon upside the head.

Recovering quickly, Ebon did an open palm strike on Bruce's chest, sending him back and skidding on the heels of his shoes that stopped his momentum. Bruce then gave a grin before he reared his leg back and then kicked a chuck of asphalt at Ebon, who caught it but that distracted him long enough for the brute to charge in and take his opponent off his feet in a tackle before punching him hard in the face, so hard that Ebon was sent into the street, kicking up snow while the impact left a crater in the road. Ebon groaned in pain but regained his bearings and caught a punch that Bruce threw at him, twisting his form so that he was standing up and then judo throwing Bruce over his shoulder, sending the brute into the street, kicking up more snow while messing up his jacket.

Bruce jumped to his feet and then took off his jacket, undid his tie, and took off his dress shirt to reveal his torso. He was covered in tattoos and chaotic runes that somehow flowed together like a painting of ink and flesh, unable to differentiate which part started and which ended.

"Cool, huh?" Bruce showed them off to a surprised Ebon, "K made me get em. Told me that they'd be of use some day." He grabbed a piece of asphalt and threw it at the Prophet of Shadows, with the runes glowing briefly. The piece flew toward him like a comet but Ebon twisted out of way, barely scratching him before he lashed his fist out, slashing Bruce in the cheek but it barely seemed to even nick him. Bruce jumped to the air, cocking his fist back and throwing a punch that caved in Ebon's head, the only reason for him still being alive is his abilities that let him reform his head as he had no brain or bones.

Reforming, Ebon elongated his fingers into bladed tendrils that lashed at Bruce, only for him to grab them and yank the shadow man towards him before ramming his fist through his chest, but his fist suddenly sank into him like a pool of blackness, letting the Prophet of Shadows sock the enforcer in the face. Bruce was sent back with his fist free from the shadows, but then used hands to leap up and land on his feet before he wiped some blood off his cheek with a smirk. The brute then pulled out a flashbang and threw it at Ebon, who brought up his arms to defend him, only for the grenade to detonate. The flash blinded him and forcing his shadowy form to into the light while deafening him temporally, giving Bruce the chance to strike.

The brute uppercutted Ebon in the chin and then elbowed him in the face, both with the force of a sledgehammer, sending the Prophet of Shadows to his back, groaning in pain. His powers scrambled briefly before he collapsed from the pain, suddenly unable to move from the pain as if a thousand blades of fire had pierced his flesh.

(Music Ends)

Bruce, seeing that his opponent was down, pulled out his hand cannon while Ebon struggled to move and attack. "You're pretty good, kid. But, if I start a job, I finish a job." Bruce muttered out as he pointed his hand-cannon at Ivan's head.

Before he could get out any words, another voice filled the air, quoting Shakespeare along with the sounding of guns cocking.

"'Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.'"

Both of them turned to see Shakespeare, Luna, Marshall, Elijah, The Colonel, and the rest of the rebel army standing a few feet away, weapons ready with Hotstreak in the back. All glaring at him and having their guns pointed right at him.

"Hamlet; Act 3, Scene 4." The leader of the Big One clarified as he raised his handgun at the brute's head.

Bruce growled and raised his Python but before he could shoot, the obese gangster shot first. The bullet sheered through the air and pierce through the man's skull, liquefying his right eye. Bruce didn't scream in pain, but the shock caused him to drop his hand cannon and his right hand covered his missing eye.

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker." Shakespeare shot out his one liner before the rest of the Big One fired.

Bullets from M14s, Uzis, 1911s, AR-15s, and AK-47s blasted through Bruce's chest, blood and liquified viscera spewing from his wounds like fountains. Yet somehow, Bruce was still standing, taking the bullets even as they hit his organs, spine, heart, and neck. He kept walking, tanking every bullet despite losing blood and flesh, his legs trudging on like a tree weathering a storm, so much so that the group slowly stopped firing as they saw him continuing to walk. Shakespeare raised his handgun to finish the job, but Bruce suddenly fell to his knees.

"Not... bad... But... I got a friend... on the other side..." Bruce grunted out with as much strength as he could muster before muttering, "Raum, I give my body and soul for you. Take this vessel and reap your unholy vengeance against the materium..."

Suddenly, Bruce's turned a cold yet blazing red as his wounds started healing, slugs popping out of his flesh like kernels and muscles pulsing, writhing, and shaping in unnatural ways before settling on a single one. A healed Bruce managed to stand, his teeth now gold, the tattoos and runes now flowing around his flesh like water, and an aura of red surrounded him like a pyre of flames that didn't exist.

(Devil May Cry 5 OST - Bury the Light (Boss Theme Special Edition))

"I'm gonna enjoy putting you all down." Bruce spoke out in a deeper and reverberating voice, ramming his fists together in an act of intimidation.

Instead, the Prophet of Light ignited his fists before the others cocked their guns in response, "Come and try, Bitch Boy."

Hotstreak rammed his fist into the ground, sending a trail of magma at Bruce, who sidestepped away and then disappeared in a flash of red. He reappeared above Hotstreak, who barely had a chance to react in time, blocking a punch from Bruce before he struck the possessed man in the chest, sending him skidding back. The two gave a glare of intense hatred for each other before they charged.

The two disappeared in a flash of fire and red that trailed towards each other, circling and then colliding, bursting into a massive blast of red before they reappeared and let out a flurry of punches that were matched blow for blow. Bruce dodged a punch from Hotstreak before he uppercutted the Prophet of Light in the jaw, sending him back before Shakespeare suddenly joining the fight, rearing a fist back with the runes glow teal.

Bruce and Shakespeare's punches collided, sending teal and red Warp lighting blazing through the streets before the struggle broke and the shockwave sent them back. Shakespeare willed the teal energy into the shape of a handgun that he immediately fired, only for Bruce to move his head out of the way just a split second away from hitting him before throwing a punch that Shakespeare caught and then threw the possessed man over his shoulder. The possessed brute landed on his feet and then gritted his teeth before he sliced at the air, sending a wave of Warp-fire at the rebel leader, who jumped out of the way and fired his Warp-made handgun, sending a bolt of black and teal at Bruce, who blocked it with his hand only for him to be hit in the face by a left hook from Shakespeare.

The group fired on Bruce, only for him to extend a hand. The bullets stopped in midair while covered in a red aura before they melted into a liquid and fused into a serrated and hiltless blade that he used to channel his power, sending trails of red at the Big One. The Colonel, Elijah, Luna, and Marshall dove out of the way as the rest that couldn't dodge out of the way were reduced to slurry. Elijah fired on Bruce who merely deflected them with his sword before the Colonel threw a grenade at the brute, who caught it before it then exploded, blowing Bruce's hand apart in a spray of gore before his hand reformed in an instant as if like liquid.

(Music stops)

Suddenly, the sounds of bones breaking filled the air as Bruce's flesh rippled like liquid. Three tendrils covered in twitching eyes and suppurating maggot-like mouths burst out of his back, his flesh then started tearing and shaping into multiple maws filled with either fangs or eyes, grey fleshy tendrils slithering from wounds before he started bleeding, ejaculating, excreting, and salivating before the fluids solidified in a black rubberous substance and wrapped around his body like a morbid burial shroud. His body tore and snapped in ways that should not have been possible, muscle mass and organs forming and rearranging, bones breaking and reshaping in unnatural ways. Orange radiant bile spewed from his eyes and mouth, the solidified fluids reached his head and sprayed out into tentacles, two protuberances ripping through the temples, the chest tearing open as insectoid limbs ripped through the wound while clear viscous fluid bubbled out of the cavity.

The group all backed away with wide eyes and horrified expressions, some like Elijah even vomiting at the sight and sounds of the transformation, Luna putting her hands to her mouth in horror, and the Colonel gripping his rifle in fear. When it was finished, Bruce was no more, there was only Raum.

He was now 15 feet tall with an impossibly thin body, two sets of arms, his legs were tri-pronged talons, 3 glowing red eyes, black tentacles with red intervals for 'hair', two black horns, and a wide-open grin that glowed orange. His form had an exposed ribcage that resembled insectoid limbs filled with black eyes with red snake-like pupils, along with four bladed tentacles at the tail bone, and the spine had serrated blades sticking out of it.

(Music resumes)

Raum roared out in agony and rage, lashing out its tentacle hair at Shakespeare who grabbed a large piece of the asphalt, blocking the attack before Hotstreak lobbed a fireball at its spine, cracking it in half before both halves reattached. Raum screeched, blasting out a bolt of red at Hotstreak who fired a blast of fire that intercepted each other, canceling both out before Shakespeare fired his teal guns, tearing small holes in its body that quickly sealed up. As the daemon tried to kill Hotstreak and Shakespeare, Ebon managed to get to his feet before he lashed out his arms as tendrils, cleaving through Raum's form like butter, only for the severed parts to reconnect and lash at the Prophet of Shadows who warped out of the way.

Marshall readied his axe and swung with a psychotic roar, cleaving off three tentacles that attempted to skewer him before the Colonel fired an RPG at the daemon, who backhanded it away even as the rest of the group fired on it, that only served to annoy it. Ebon uppercutted the monster, who then lash at him only for Luna jump into the fray, shifting into her true form with her clothes sinking into her ichor-like body, shielding him from its tentacles and then retaliated with her own that sent the daemon skidding back.

Suddenly, thorny vines and bandages wrapped around Raum's limbs before flashes of pink, white, green, and red struck its back, frying the mass of tentacles on its head and scorching its flesh before it screeched in agony and fell to its knees. The group all turned to see some of the Lucha Ultima rushing to their aid, and ready to fight Raum who's tentacles slowly grew back, and the scorched flesh peeled off before it stood up and roared.

El Tigre let out a roar and slashed the daemon across the face before Jesse and Mummy both had its arms wrapped in their thorns and bandages respectively. Raum roared and tried to wrench itself free, but the two luchadores wouldn't budge.

"NOW!" Jesse yelled to the others. Headache and Feliz let out a yell as they did a charging leap in sync before the former ramming his elbow into the monster's mutated sternum and the latter ramming his elbow into Raum's spine. Their powers activated simultaneously as fleshy spikes ripped through the sternum and blades of pink slashing through the spin, causing blood to burst from numerous and random parts of his body. Before it could even scream, Espirito and Becquerel Boy struck it in the head with his ghostly flames and his hammer respectively, cracking its skull.

Raum roared in agony, only to stop when he saw El Diablo in his Diablo form, Ebon and Hotstreak, and El Tigre from behind, surging towards it with their powers ready to strike at it while Headache and Feliz leaped away. The monster was unable to do anything as the four slashed him hard and deep all over, sending orange radiant bile everywhere. Raum now practically resembled mincemeat before it slowly pulled itself together with red slick tendrils of energy that quickly stitched its wounds as if they never existed. The daemon roared at them, flaring its tentacles and tails before it disappeared in a flash of red.

"Here it comes!" Ebon yelled before it reappeared above him, lashing its tails before the Prophet of Shadows twists out of the way and lashes out his arm that impales Raum in the head, who retched itself out and struck him in the chest, but his shadowy form was unaffected as Hotstreak struck Raum in the face with a flaming punch. Shakespeare managed to form a blade of teal energy that he used to slash at one of its tails before El Diablo tackled it to the ground and then began ripping into it with his claws, tearing out black fluid and orange bile that splattered all over him, Raum uppercutted the devil meta away and disappeared in another flash of red. It reappeared behind Hotstreak with its wounds healed before the eyes in its chest cavity started glowing red, the latter jumping out of the way when a beam of pure energy that torn through the streets like a 1000-degree knife through melting butter.

Multiple members of the group would have been killed had they not dove out of the way, but others were not so lucky, blazed away with not even bones remaining of them. Now only, the Prophets, the Luchadores, Shakespeare, Luna, The Colonel, Elijah, and Marshall were left, so they had to finish this daemon now before it was too late.

Ebon and Hotstreak roared as unleashed a flurry of shadowy tendrils and a blast of white flames respectively that struck the daemon in the chest, causing it to stumble back before it was struck in the back by El Diablo. The daemon slashed him away before it was struck in the face by El Tigre, and then in the legs and back by Jesse and the Black Mummy, in the head by Espirito and Becquerel Boy again, and impaled by Luna before it could react to any of those attacks.

Suddenly, Raum began gruesomely forming rubbery black tentacles with red streaks from its limbs that lashed out at them, some struck by the tendrils but alive while the others managed to barely dodge or block them. Shakespeare grabbed two tentacles and, with nothing but his strength, ripped them off with ease before he noticed something on the ground: Bruce's golden Colt Python. An idea formed in his head, grabbing it and pointing it at the newly restrained Raum.

"Normally, I don't like repeating myself. But for you, I'll make an exception." Shakespeare said as he leveled Bruce's Python at the daemon's head... before he was joined by Ebon, who pointed one of the handcannons from the Z-7s, and Elijah, who used the 1911 that Shakespeare used to shoot out Bruce's eye. The leader blinked but let them join him as they all spoke in unison.

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker."

The three fired and the bullets pierced the pulsating membrane that was its head, bursting it like a sore filled with pus. A bellowing screech like a symphony of pain but still it didn't seem to dissuade it. Suddenly, its form began tearing itself apart, bone and skin devolving into rubbery black tentacles with red streaks connected to a maw of red and gold fangs, and a main body covered in needle-like spines. The tentacles quickly began growing and secreting fluids that lubricating its restraints, causing it to slip out of the brambles and bandages and lash straight at them.

Suddenly, the mutated body of Raum was blown in half by some unknown force, sending burning red fluid everywhere. The three were surprised and turned around to see a surprising sight; Agent Crocodile, armed with his Dragunov, and having the shadows rising from his shoulders. Crocodile raised the smoking Dragunov and yelled to Ebon, "If anybody's gonna kill you two, it's gonna be me!"

"You here to finish the job, Croc?" The Prophet of Shadows yelled to the insane agent turned street assassin, who seemed to be more amused than anything even as Raum pulled itself back together.

"Not yet! Let's finish this sum bitch!" Crocodile yelled, causing the remaining members of the Big One readied themselves to finish off Raum, who seemed more annoyed than anything, readying its tentacles to skewer them.

(Music ends)

Suddenly, a darkness enveloped the earth, blotting all the light of the planet. Raum and Luna screeched in agony, loosing cohesion with the former flailing about while the latter reverted back to her human form, clutching her head. Agent Crocodile screamed in pure agony, barely able to stand and keep a grip on himself while the others seem unaffected.

The darkness suddenly faded, causing Crocodile and Luna to fall to their knees while gasping in relief. Ebon got to Luna's side while Crocodile stood up and braved the pain. Suddenly, they heard another screech, turning to see Raum flailing about only for the body it was possessing to be slowly dissolving into fluid and mulch, boiling and unforming. Before Raum disappeared, they all could vaguely hear it whisper, "You're pretty good."

In the distance, the survivors could see thin trails of multicolored steam rising from the city, meaning whatever were left of the Knights had been destroyed from the darkness. How Luna was unaffected was beyond them, but Ebon wasn't complaining. Screams were heard from the remaining Prototypes that fell dead, while they hear people turning their guns on themselves.

Suddenly, Shakespeare raised Bruce's Colt Python into the air and quoted his namesake once more, "'HE WHO LIVES BY THE SWORD, DIES BY THE SWORD!'" The Prophets and the remaining group cheered at seeing their victory.

15 days later...

DMC: Downtown

Dear Diary,

It's been a while since I used this old thing, huh? So much has happened that I never really had the time, I guess. A lot's changed in the two weeks since the Knights were destroyed and the world drove Chaos back, at least in DMC.

Luna smirked to herself, writing in her purple covered diary and a ballpoint pen, sitting on one of the few couches in the building that they were in. Meanwhile, Ebon and Hotstreak were ordering around their followers that were working like a well-oiled machine, moving crates filled with supplies, weapons, ammo, and gear around the base. Apparently

The woman herself was clothed in a formfitting leather outfit that one would see in a spy movie but had a leather jacket over it so that she didn't freeze to death from the snowstorm that had consumed DMC.

Whatever militias and non-Chaos cults joined the Big One before they instead renamed themselves the Saviors of DMC. Whatever Chaos Cults left banded together into a group called the Children of Doom and now both sides are in an all-out war for DMC.

Rios Rosa

Shakespeare led the charge against them, now able to use his powers in ways that I never thought of. He's now known as the Teal Slayer.

Shakespeare, now in a green trench coat, black warm up pants, black slip-on shoes, a metal eyepatch on his left eye, armed with twin AR-15s and many other guns, roared out as he fired on several Cultists that were charging at him. His feral cries and the cracks of the gunshots balancing each other and drowning out the dying screams of the cultists as several are felled by the barrage of bullets.

By him were several angelic warriors composed of teal Warp energy, armed with swords and shields that were reducing the cultists to dust and ash in bright green flames.

La Martine

Colonel McCollough has been leading strategic strikes at the Children of Doom, while Marshall and Elijah have been executing any prisoners.

The colonel's soldiers lead several fearful prisoners to the gallows where an eager and awaiting crowd that were cheering at the execution, a stage made of wooden planks and metal sheets prepared where Elijah and Marshall awaited, blades and guns at the ready.

Marshall was dressed in a red leather jacket, black pants, and black leather boots, all with pieces of decorated armor and bandages that kept them together, while his face was covered by a black mask with neon green lights in the form of X's crossed over the eyes and a wide grin stitched together. Elijah was wearing a green shirt under an oil black jacket, dirty jeans, black sneakers, and a gasmask over his face.

The prisoners were led to an empty patch of land where several large wooden stakes have been planted into the ground with patches of dried hay sitting around them. The cultists were all tied to each stake, sometimes three or four had to be tied to a single stake as there were too many prisoners to be tied to a single one, but after they were all bound to the stakes, the soldiers immediately began pouring flammable liquids into the hay and dosing the prisoners as well, some either yelling out in protest while others yelled out to bring it on.

What they poured out was mostly flammable lubricants. No gasoline, they needed that for their cars and other vehicles. With that done, Elijah and Marshall approached the horde of stakes and bound cultists while the soldiers and crowd stepped back to avoid the oncoming flames.

"I will now list your crimes." Elijah said grandly before finishing in a simple and bland tone, "You are all chaos cultists. Marshal, light em up!" Marshall merely struck a match and threw it at the dosed hay, which then immediately ignited. The cultists either yelled for mercy from their Dark Gods while others merely did not give the Saviors' the satisfaction of hearing them scream. The pyre blazed in fury that drowned out the screams of the cultists and the cheers of Saviors'.

Hawk Canyon

The Lucha Ultima have been at Ebon and Hotstreak's sides, serving as their bodyguards or commanders of the Prophets.

"LIGHT EM UP, BOYS!" Espirito yelled as he and several other soldiers of the Saviors fired down on a ravine filled with the cultist from the Children of Doom, lighting them ablaze with ghostly flames and bullet fire. The cultists were messily gunned down or set ablaze, screaming and trying to fire back at them, only able to futilely fight back in their last moments.

After that was finished, the soldiers all looked to the distance where they saw several thousand COD cultists running to the distance, but they weren't heading towards DMC. Confused, Espirito wordlessly ordered his soldiers to follow the cultists, with him leading them on his white horse. By the time they got there, the Prophets saw what the cultists were heading towards; a convoy of soldiers and medical teams coming to the city.

"A convoy..." Espirito whispered before he yelled to his soldiers, "EVERYONE, INTERCEPT THE CONVOY! THE COD CAN'T REACH THAT CONVOY!" The group all raced towards the convoy to stop whatever might happen to those soldiers if the COD got their hands on them.

DMC: Cunningham

I think Blatta disappeared into the sewers after the battle, but rumors have been spreading that he's been helping whomever he came across that was in need.

A child clothed in rags ran as fast as he could away from a member of the Children of Doom, who was brandishing a knife and laughing hysterically. He turned a corner to an alleyway, before he tripped on some rubble and the COD member was on him in but a moment. Now that he got a better look at her, the child was even more terrified of her.

The woman was clothed in tattered and dirty clothing that had multiple tears that showed lots of skin, her matted brown hair hung over her face that was marred with a wide Joker-like grin, and a knife with a spiked guard in her hand that was pressed to the child's throat. She laughed like a madman before whispering to the terrified child, "Don't worry, little boy. When you're dead, I'll have my fun while your body's still warm."

The child wailed and wailed as the woman raised the knife to plunge into his neck... only for him to stop screaming when a swarm of roaches emerged from the sewers. The female cultist stopped her attempt on the boy's life in confusion when he stopped screaming, turning to see the swarm of roaches that were rising from the sewers.

"What the-" The cultist didn't get to finish her sentence as it lashed out at her, grabbing her torso faster than she could react. The swarm then dragged her as she kicked and screamed into the manhole and then into sewers, her wails of agony were soon silenced with a sickening crunch.

The boy whimpered but his curiosity had overridden his fear, slowly crawling to the manhole where the woman was dragged from only for the swarm to emerge and leave behind a small snack cake that was still in its wrapper.

Santa Verona

Haven't heard much from Agent Crocodile, though I heard that he's somewhere in Santa Verona, killing whoever crosses his path. He's apparently called Lasombra by the cultists.

Several dozen cultists were slaughtered by the shadows from Crocodile, who was now dressed in a black leather duster, red sweater under a flak jacket, black pants, and black boots. His hair had grown to his shoulders while a beard covered the lower have of his face, his flak jacket was loaded with clips and grenades while a gun was placed in whatever space that a gun could fit, while he was holding an AK-47 with a drum magazine. His eyes were blood red with the sclera pitch black, the shadows flowing up from his back like liquid smoke with shapes taking form with red streaks, accents, and outlines.

"So, partner? What do you think?" The insane man asked no one as he saw more COD coming towards him from the distance.

'They can regale themselves with the prospect of us being able to be killed for their Dark Gods, when the Dark Gods themselves have already fled. So, impart that truth to them and break their will. Tear em apart like old times. Huh, Partner?' The voice in his head said with an unseen smile at that he could feel.

A smile came to his lips, "Like old times, partner." Agent Crocodile said as he raised his Kalashnikov to the horde of cultists that were coming his way. There will be a day when he dies... but that day is not today.

Downtown

As for me, Ivan and I are together. Him and Hotstreaks are both known as the Prophets and the True Saviors of Dark Meat City. Both are practically worshipped as Gods, but they deny it. But... I can't help but to think of the time when I thought nobody would love me. A time when I thought that humanity would tear me down, but now, not just Ivan and Frank, Shakespeare, Marshall, the Luchas, Elijah, the Colonel, they know what I am, and they still treat me like one of their own. To know that I was wrong about nobody accepting me... it brings a tear to my eye.

Now I believe that I can start over, find love, and find hope again. Gotta go. I'll write again later.

-Luna.

Luna closed her book and set it aside, getting up so that she could meet with Ivan again.

"Hey, Luna." She turned to see Willy standing behind her, now dressed some shorts and a child sized winter coat, "You're alright." Luna smiled, even if Willy could be irritating at some points, but he was still an okay guy.

"Thanks, Willy." The woman replied as both of them walked up to Ebon and Hotsteak, the form was on the phone with one of their groups with the latter listening in as were the dozens of followers else in the room.

"...You sure? All right, I'll call the others, see ya." Ebon got off the phone and looked to everyone, "Got some news. The good news is Espirito, and his group spotted a convoy of GDF troops and med teams heading to DMC. The bad news is that the COD are ahead of them. Everyone arm up and call everyone! They ain't take that convoy! AND THEY AIN'T TAKING THIS CITY!"

Everyone in the room all hollered and Luna couldn't help but grin. Live couldn't be better.

And that's a wrap!

*Yes, Colonel McCollough from War of the Planet of the Apes.

**Think of Amon's design from Amon: Apocalypse of Devilman.

***Roughly translated to, "Mr. K, I speak for the dead. And they say: prepare to die."

For those that are confused as to what this chapter was based on, it's based on one of my favorite comics and animated movies of all time; MUTAFUKAZ. You should check it out, its freaking fantastic! Anyway, one day, I was rewatching Static Shock and then I thought that Ebon and Hotstreak look a lot like the main characters of Mutafukaz, so I used them as replacements. And as for Bruce's gruesome transformation into Raum, that was inspired by Tails' Shroud transformation from Sonic X: Dark Chaos by Eric Neo Matrix.

As for the whole story from this point on, consider chapters 12 through 19 or 21 to be season 2 of Embrace all Chaos, showing Chaos' effect on the multiverse and how many people are either succumbing to Chaos or fighting against it.

So, please make a reaction fic or a TV Tropes page, please!

See ya!