Termination 21.11
~So, this is totally a trap,~ Herbert's voice stated in my head, as I flew down to the meeting point in New Rome, the Vatican having led a theocratic revolution, Italy no more, as well as Slovenia, and Croatia, a good portion of Austria having defected as well, with Switzerland having closed its southern border. Looking out over the city, it didn't look anything like I remembered, not that I'd ever been to Rome, but I'd seen Angels & Demons, which was pretty much the same thing.
'You don't have to tell me,' I replied via Acoustokinesis, making sure my words only reached the near-microscopic tardigrade sitting in my ear, the man having done a quick circuit before we'd left to grab powers, including the telepathy one he was using to communicate with me. While he didn't really have eyes in that form, he had enough powers that he didn't really need them in the first place. 'You seeing all this?'
~Looks like one of our places,~ the man noted, seeing what I was, and very likely more.
What I'd remembered of Vatican City was impressive, for its time, white-ish stone and brown tiled roofs, most buildings capping out at about five stories, and with architectural flourishes that fit the time period and aesthetic of the age.
What I saw were towering edifices of pure white marble, shot through with gold, like something out of a video game or anime, the style oscillating wildly between the clean, bare surfaces of a castle's defensive structures and the extreme ornamentation of gothic cathedrals, and neither of them fit with what should've been there.
More than that, the Swiss guard, in their orange and blue poofy uniforms, and red furry hats, had been replaced with men in full plate, with tabards that were pure white with golden crosses emblazoned on them, which looked like the English one, except that one was supposed to be red.
As I descended to where I was supposed to meet my guide, I noted that the paladins weren't just men, but women too, which I was pretty sure was not allowed in the Catholic church, but, then again, I wasn't catholic, let alone Earth Bet Catholic, so. . . maybe it was normal? I knew this was a theocratic state, but I'd expected that to mean things would be more restrictive, not less.
~Traaaaaaap,~ Herbert repeated, and I tried not to snort, catching a flicker of power, turning to see. . .
Yep. That was an Angel. Well, it was a Host with a Gold and Light Aura, the power a general boost, giving him the wings he was using to hover without having to flap the pure-white appendages, and the ability to make hard-light spears he could throw. It was pretty on-the-nose as far as powers went, but, hey, that happened sometimes. It was very likely the Host Triggered and then came here because of the theme of their powers, instead of Triggering as an 'angel' in the Vatican.
That said, the Shard's name was. . . odd, almost as if it was blurry, or muted. The name of the power was. . . Angel. It was flat, without depth, or meaning, and just kind of. . . there.
Looking around, I spotted another Gold and Light Aura, another Angel power, but this one belonged to a woman, though she had the exact same ability. The exact same ability.
Are they not real? I wondered, as normally I couldn't read Minions, but my Powers were supposed to grow in power over time, so maybe I was starting to get improvements in that way? And, most of the time, the Minions I was looking at were my own, so who knew how long I could actually do this.
Regardless, I descended towards the obelisk I had been directed to go to, which I was pretty sure hadn't been a hundred feet tall and made of glowing golden crystals but. . . sure, why not.
~Dude, that thing is fuckin' packed with energy!~ Herb commented, and I gave it a wary look, but the paladins nearby it didn't look worried, so either they were Mastered, or it was safe. And, even if it was a Nuke, I could probably tank it no issue.
Setting down next to it, I looked around, trying to spot my guide, a nun in a red habit coming up, only she didn't have the headpiece, but a little red hat instead. "Vejovis?" she questioned, smiling.
"Yes," I replied, the woman herself a Host for a Shard that bestowed the Cardinal power, which, like the Angel power, seemed. . . flat. "I believe I was expected," I said, as she looked at me in confusion.
"I, yes, I am sorry," she apologized, "Your accent is a little hard to understand. You are American, yes?"
Frowning, I pulled back on my speech, asking in turn, "Is this better? And, yes, I am."
"Ah, good. Please follow me," she directed, turning and starting to stride away, so I floated after her.
~This is so a trap there's no question if it's gay,~ my ex-friend commented, which didn't even make sense, but I was more focused on the woman in front of me. 'Shardspeak', as the man currently secreted away on my person like to call speaking clearly, was kind of an all or nothing thing. Hosts understood it, full stop, regardless of if we even spoke the same language, as we'd found out with some of Toybox's people.
Shardless, however, just heard hissing, at least from me.
There was no middle ground.
Only, here, there was, which shouldn't be, and when impossible things happened, it usually meant nothing good. I murmured to Herbert, 'Pretty sure you can't be gay and Catholic. Definitely still a trap though.' Speaking aloud, I inquired, "The Pope wasn't entirely clear on why he wanted to meet. Do you have any idea why that would, Ms. . ."
The nun looked back, "Oh, I am sure the Holy Father wishes to grace you with his wisdom!"
"Ah, well, I welcome it," I nodded. "And your name is. . .?" I questioned, less subtly.
"Oh, I'm Cardinal Isabella Bianchi," she informed me, and I was glad I was flying, as otherwise I would've stopped dead at that.
"Oh, female Cardinals? Is that a new thing?" I asked, even as Herb started chanting, ~Trap. Trap. Trap. Trap.~
"In the last few years, yes," Isabella agreed. "Pope Metatron revealed that, just as God himself refined his teachings, through Moses, then through the Holy Son, Jesus Christ, the time is now right for changes, and, in this age of miracles, it is time for the church to change again. Some were against him, when he was Cardinal Lucas, but they had lost their way."
~Dude, Lucas means bringer of Light. Lightbringer. Dude's literally Satan. And this is a traaaaaaap,~ Herbert sing-songed in my head.
'Are you hacking their computers with Quinn's power just troll me?' I questioned, incredulous. 'Couldn't you be using that to see if they're planning something?'
Simultaneously, I asked, "Lost their way?" At her visible hesitance, I added, "I apologize if I've given offense, it's just, in America, news of Europe is sparser than it was in decades past."
~Doing that too,~ the now-tardigrade replied, ~But there's a lot of stuff here, and even Glimpsing I'm barely making a dent after, like, six hours.~
Isabella momentarily grimaced, "They sought to walk in the steps of Judas, to have him murdered, and found sinners willing to do so. However, the Holy Father is blessed by God, and thus was protected, as Daniel was in the lions' den. When their duplicity became obvious, they attempted to flee, but the Lord's Justice cannot be escaped."
I merely nodded, not sure what to do with that information. 'Then take a break. I need you ready to fight when this trap gets set off,' I commanded Herbert, trying not to frown. The man on my shoulder might be better about managing things and communicating more, but his tendency to go off and run after an idea without talking to anyone hadn't changed.
And, yes, I was aware that I did the same thing, but the difference was that I did so in ways that were safe and only would blow back on me, while, if he exhausted himself, he wouldn't be able to back me in a fight in case I needed him.
~Will do. Also, they totally got shit in their basement,~ Herbert replied. Feeling out with Mineral Manipulation, following Isabella deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine structure, I could tell we were, while on ground-ish level, actually at the top of a structure that descended deep into the ground. It wasn't Eclipse deep, but instead had a dozen floors down, then spread out into twisting passageways that connected to the extensive basements of other buildings, though, from the layer of rock, it might be better to say the underground structures placed below the regular buildings.
'Anything of note?' I inquired, interested.
~Books, gold, oh, and 'angels',~ the man replied, with a mental eye-roll. ~Really poor suckers who got shit Vials and went wrong. Can't tell if Mr. Big Hat is tryin' to be merciful, or has 'em as attack dogs, since they've been trying to 'condition' them so they stop attacking people and shit.~
Thankfully, we didn't have that issue, though if we did I could see that as one solution. Thankfully, as we approached a pair of closed doors, and the Cardinal glanced back at me, it appeared that we had reached our destination.
"The holy father is waiting for you inside," the woman said, the doors seeming to open on their own, which was impressive if you couldn't hear the hidden motors built into the ornate edifice.
"I appreciate your assistance," I told her, and she smiled, even as I asked Herb, 'Any of your powers telling you anything?'
~They're tellin' me this is a trap,~ he replied instantly, as the door fully opened, revealing a large, ornate chamber, a man in white and gold in a chair at the back, a near-invisible barrier in front of him, and a door behind him.
"Hmm," I hummed, taking the sound and spreading it, using Silicakinesis to feel it out, revealing that it was indeed glass, even if it was likely bulletproof, which was. . . unfortunate for him if things went sour. 'Wait, they are? Which ones, and what are they saying?'
"Vejovis," the Pope smiled, as I entered the room, and spotted guards in position along the wall, a dozen of them all with the same Aura of Angel powers. "I am so glad you accepted my offer. Too many believe themselves so perfect that they need no assistance."
~The power is called 'common sense', and it's sayin' that anime was right, the church is evil, and this guy is super corrupt. Oh, and this is a traaaaaaap!~ my ex-friend drawled in my mind, and I did my best not to show my annoyance at the man, lest the religious leader misunderstand me.
Nodding, and seeing the large, comfortable looking chair set up opposite of the Pope, started to move towards it. The sound of his voice was broadcast through a few different speakers, which moved as I did, giving the impression that he was speaking normally, and further hiding the barrier that protected him. A barrier that meant I couldn't See him properly, but, experimentally, I shifted back to Shardspeak for a moment.
"I would never turn down advice, at least from someone knowledgeable about which they speak," I hissed, "though whether or not I will follow said suggestions is my prerogative."
The Pope chuckled, even as the guards shifted uncomfortably. "Of course, of course. Still, it does my old heart good to see another young leader is willing to be open to the word of God."
So you're a Host, I thought, a little annoyed, a quick scan with my powers showing no sounds coming from the seat, nor any small bits of mineral that read as any kind of circuity, nor even the slight feeling of presence that I could get from Silicakinesis, given the silicon that went into their construction. Nodding, I sat, wishing I could latch onto his power to get a better read on him, the man might as well Shardless in this format.
"I must say, this is not what I thought Rome looked like. Or what it does in the history books," I prodded, looking around.
The Pope nodded, "Yes, the church, and those in service to it, was. . . mired in the past. We follow God's word, and while we must understand what he instructed in the past, it had gotten to the point of idolatry itself. As such, when God bestowed upon us a means to better glorify his name, we did not spurn his gifts. Much like you have embraced his gifts in New Avalon," the man smiled.
I smiled back, trying to take the compliment, but something about it rubbed me the wrong way. It was a momentary thing, but, "It is the Church's position that Powers come from God?" I questioned.
"Ah, yes, Americans always look for scientific explanations for things, rather than have faith," the self-named Metatron nodded. "Not as bad as the Germans, but still."
From what I knew the German government were controlled by Super-Nazis, and I didn't much care for the comparison, but, technically he was correct. About Americans. Given I'd seen Abaddon, he was wrong about their source, but I knew there was nothing to be gained by telling him the truth here. "Given your predecessors, can you blame them?" I pointed out.
The Pope closed his eyes and nodded with a sigh. "'The Lord detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not go unpunished.' And many of my predecessors were proud of heart, even though they'd attest the opposite, wearing a deceiver's smile, and confident that none would hold them to task. And, before God saw fit to grant miracles freely, when he had left men to live in his teachings, before the others moved, we all failed him."
"Others moved?" I asked, realizing that all I was doing was asking questions, but, well, I technically was here to hear his wisdom, even if something about the way he said it just came off as patronizingly dickish, for reasons I couldn't put my finger on.
"The other gods," Metatron nodded, and read my expression, as I did not hesitate to hide my describe. "If I may be so presumptions, I assume you thought us monotheistic?"
"Pretty sure I've heard him described as the one and only God," I replied cautiously.
"And do you know the first commandment, which Moses carried down from Mount Sinai, inscribed by the finger of God himself?" the man questioned.
It was easy enough, being raised Presbyterian, and then Congregational, "You shall have no other gods before Me," I recited.
"Ah, you are familiar with the teachings," the Pope smiled, and I felt twin emotions of pride and annoyance, both quickly gone. "Yes. There is only one God above all, but there are many, many lesser gods, and they are equally capable of bestowing gifts amongst their followers, their chosen, and even those that merely amuse them. Your own Slaughterhouse Nine had powers in line with pagan gods, though their leader, your Jack Slash was clearly 'blessed' by Lucifer himself."
It was a bit aggravating, how wrong he was, but, from a certain point of view, it made a certain degree of sense, if you didn't know the truth. "I can see why you'd say that," I sighed. "Though I'm fairly certain I have not been granted powers by the god I've named myself after."
"Perhaps," Metatron noted, clearly disagreeing. "Little is known of that Roman deity, that opposite of Jupiter, a god thought to be aligned with the underworld, yet one associated with healing, yet also destruction. One of the first gods, giving refuge to criminals, slaves, and fighters. Given your 'Penumbral Defenders', protectors in shadow, and your policy of giving succor to those who wish redemption, I would be hard pressed to find a worse champion for the true Vejovis."
Again, twin thrills of pride and annoyance shot through me, the praise. . . unexpected. "And you're not just saying that because the new up-and-coming power named himself after a Roman god, and you're the defacto leader of New Rome?"
The Pope laughed at that. "I will say, I was not upset upon learning that the missing leader of New Avalon had returned, and had not chosen to take another name. It is one of the reasons I extended an invitation. Your kingdom's growth is impressive, mirroring New Rome's own, but its spiritual growth does not match its other aspects."
And here it is, I thought. "I'm fairly certain we have freedom of religion in New Avalon. There's nothing stopping you, or others, from opening a church or three there if you wish."
Smiling indulgently, in a way that made me want to punch him ever-so-slightly, Metatron nodded. "Yes, that is your public policy, but we both know the reality is different. With your public backing, perhaps a dedicated building in each city, we could do much more. We could even help fold your church into our mass. No gods before the Lord, but after?"
"What."
The Pope frowned, "You. . . didn't know?"
'HERBERT.'
~Oh, yeah, they're a thing,~ the man communicated, chagrined. ~Taylor's annoyed with them. Quinn too. But, I mean, aren't you technically a being from another world here to save everyone?~
'So Are You.'
~Yeah, but I'm shit at it,~ he replied, which. . . fair. ~Your brother actually started it, but for himself, but, well, he's even worse than I am.~
I punched the bridge of my nose, as that, too, made a certain amount of sense. I could easily see him trying to make his own cult, then half-assing it until it became my cult instead, because I was trying to help everyone, and his cares ended when it no longer benefited him directly.
"Hmm, you truly didn't know," the Pope noted, amused.
"I've been busy doing other things, and, if I had to guess, those supporting me in more conventional ways didn't wish me to go out and tell those idiots to knock it the fuck off," I growled.
"The needs of the physical world are often prioritized over those of the spiritual," the Pope commiserated, and, again, a dual flare of appreciation for the support and annoyance, in a way that was distinctly familiar, but they were gone almost as soon as I felt them, making them hard to pin down. "But that is why you must support us in our endeavor. We can help you, and your people, in a way you desperately need. People need to believe, and, without being guided truly, they will find other things to believe in, even people who, like yourself, do not wish their worship."
Again, the dual flare of emotions, and I realized what was going on. They weren't sticking around, clearly Dean's Emotional Stability power at work, but, now that I was concentrating at them, the gratefulness for the Pope's support was not natural, neither was my annoyance at his presumption. The difficult part of it was that, on some level, I was somewhat happy for the support, but I knew better, knew that it was not a gift, but a trade, and my annoyance at someone else telling me 'the way it would be' was also natural, though different, then the bulk of my annoyance, my anger.
Because I was being Mastered.
"And, let me guess, you'd wish for New Avalon to become a vassal state of New Rome, like the Rome of old?" I questioned, straightening in my chair, causing the Pope to frown, and the twelve Angel guards to shift.
"Not necessarily," the 'Pope' deferred, and three guesses on how he became the Pope. "Though, now that you suggest it, doing so would also help with some of the issues I know you are having with the American government. Yes, perhaps that would be for the best."
This time, the dual false emotions were stronger, but, expecting them, they slid off me completely, not touching the core of who I was.
~You're not considering this, are you?~ Herbert questioned, worried, as I remained silent.
'Fuck no. He's trying to Master us. And failing,' I informed him.
~What? But I'm not. . . that fucker! I've got Dean's power, so I didn't notice. But you do too, so how. . . is this power shit again?~ the transformed man asked.
'Probably,' I sighed, not moving, staring at the Pope, the Angel guards now visibly uncomfortable. 'Or you having a stronger version than normal meant you could brush it off so fast you didn't notice. Either way, I'm going to try to leave politely, but be ready to fight.'
"Vejovis," Metatron stated, frowning and pitching his voice as if he was a disappointed father. "It really would be for the best if you agreed. I know how you Americans value your independence, but to reject our assistance merely because of the proudness of your heart. . ." He shook his head, "It would be most unfortunate."
I neutrally noticed the Master effect slip by, unable to gain any purchase on me. "It is not proudness of heart, only wariness of potential bad actors. And, speaking of proudness, while I am the leader of New Avalon, I am not its dictator. I would need to go and confer with others who I trust, many who have a better mind for such complex matters that would affect so much about us than I do with my limited specialty, before I could commit to such an action."
The Pope was openly frowning now, "But surely, you can see why this is the right decision. And you have done so much, your word would be enough. Perhaps I can send a few Cardinals versed in the specifics to help the others understand."
So the Cardinals are Masters as well, I thought as another Mastering attempt did nothing, their powers oddly formatted, like reading a wikipedia entry in a foreign language, but one with the same roots, like knowing English but reading Latin.
Standing, the guards stiffened. "That would, in fact, do the exact opposite of what you are assuming," I informed him. "I thank you for your time, and I will consider your offer."
And, tried to Stride away.
Tried.
The power stuttered, like a car turning over, no connection being made.
"Leaving so soon? I'm afraid that's not God's will," the Pope noted, no longer pretending to be a wise patrician, but the smug asshole he clearly was all along. "I had heard you were resistant, Vejovis, but not immune. Why don't you take your seat, and listen to your betters."
"Yeah, I'm the one whose Prideful of heart," I remarked, reaching out, tapping into the insect life for a mile around, which included quite a few large creatures below ground, the insanity of those warped by their powers butting up against my Arthropod Control, but were brought to heel. Starting to gather them, there was a pulse of energy throughout the room, and I shot a sharp look the Pope's way.
"Yes, we know of your true power, Tinker," he noted. At my incredulous look, he shook his head. "If you wished to keep it a secret, you should not have given your power-recreating devices to others, Vejovis. I am told that one 'Glory Girl' was seen using entirely new powers, the same power as her mother."
~Dude, you told everyone you're a Tinker. This isn't a secret,~ Herbert pointed out.
I had? Oh, right, I thought, so much having happened since then. "I told the PRT I'm a Tinker. This isn't as impressive as you think it is."
"Yes, which is why everyone would discount it," Metatron stated. "It was a good ploy, but an amateur one, and just shows how much you need our guidance."
Feeling the Master effect bounce off once more, I lifted an eyebrow, finding other than whatever was blocking my teleportation, everything else was working, "Can you at least stop trying to Master me. It won't work."
"No, I believe I won't, and you should listen to me," the host noted, trying again, and still failing. "It was foolish to believe you'd come away the victor, here. Though, in a way, you will still be better off for it."
"Is this one of those 'never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line' things?" I asked, annoyed in a way that had nothing to do with powers, standing in front of the chair, which, yes, just seemed to be a chair.
"I'm Laziale," the man noted, confused, "not Sicilian."
Sighing, I looked around, "Yeah, this is just getting sad. At least look at me directly."
Snapping my fingers, I took control of the sound, and, through it, the glass all around me. With a flex of Silikacinesis, the glass shattered, nine cracks running parallel, breaking it into eight panels, which I folded up against the walls, revealing the Pope, even as the Angel guards all stepped forward, spears of light forming.
Finally, I could See his power and. . .
"You're not the Pope," I stated flatly, staring at the man before me, the Aura of Puppet surrounding the man, whose power stretched off to my side. Staring deeper into this minion's ability, it was a three part combo. One power let him Master others, the one he was using on me. The second was a shapeshifting power, which is what he, or she, was using to appear to be the Pope. And the third was a self-mastering power, which could be used to turn yourself into a Minion, controllable by the will of another.
"In a way, I am. Now have a seat, Vejovis. You cannot escape," The 'Pope' informed me.
"Did Cauldron put you up to this?" I asked, not moving.
The 'Metatron' cocked an eyebrow. "You know of them?"
"We have an understanding," I stated neutrally.
"Less of one than you believed," he remarked. "If they had wanted you protected, they would have warned me. While not emissaries of God's Light, they are still doing his will, while you, apparently, are not."
I stared at the man, just another example of the idiocy of Earth Bet. Arrogance writ large, with the rationalization of flawed powers to justify their actions, and not a hint of introspection. I constantly wondered if I was doing the right thing, though less so in weeks past, and was always willing to work with others, to listen to them, to try and achieve a shared goal.
But, it appeared, that I was the only one that did so.
I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me, I thought, but didn't say, instead reaching out with Acoustokinesis, easily enveloping everything within ten miles of my location. Pulling off a Hypersonic Disintegrator over the area would be more than I could handle, but I wasn't doing this for damage, I was doing this for style.
Turning down the sound, muffling, but not muting, everything, the sounds of violins started.
'Hey, Herbert. Want to do a theme fight?' I questioned, completely out of shits to give.
~Uh, yeah?~ the man responded, oddly hesitant. ~We bein' demons?~
'No, they've spun a message that God himself deposed the last leader, so how would it look if an angelic invasion threw down with them in the middle of their stronghold?' I questioned.
~. . . Fuck yeah,~ was the man's response, and, from behind me, two angels appeared, one brown, one purple, both covered in chitinous armor, holding flaming swords, Break and Enter pushing their shapeshifting powers as I mentally switched gears, six plumes of white Healing Flames emerging from my back to make wings, streams of Mithral extending out into shining armor, eyes burning with prismatic Flame, while a golden weapon of fire formed within my grasp.
"Who-Nephilim!" the 'Pope' exclaimed, as the sounds of 'Ode to Joy' started to grow louder.
"Nonlethal takedowns," I commanded the two behind me, turning back to look at the puppet, and smiling. "I believe it's time we truly met."
The Angel guards attacked, weapons shining, as the puppet tried to run, but a single flick of the wrist sent a golden flaming net flying outwards, capturing the man while we each handled two of the fighters.
Compared to the things I'd fought, human and inhuman, they were a joke, moving so slowly I at first wondered if Herbert had used a time-dialation power, but, blocking one of their spear thrusts with my blade, batting it aside, the glowing spear was ripped from the woman's hands with ease, and it clattered to the ground like it should. She started to form another, while the other one on me, a man, tried to tackle me, spear out, but bounced off a bit of hardned air, which broke, but almost brought him to a stop.
Stepping inside his range, I dropped my sword, not even needing it, ripping his weapon from his grasp and smacking it with the shaft across his face, sending him sprawling, another golden net thrown on him, shifting to bind him, and his wings, tightly, three golden daggers flying down to pin him to the ground.
The woman had reformed her weapon, and tried again, holding onto it tightly, but that meant, grabbing it, multiple strength-enhancing powers working in concert, I stopped he cold, and used it to slam her into the ground twice, cracking the stone floor, before she let go, and I covered her with a net as well, securing it.
Turning around, the other two were done, Enter standing smugly on top of two groaning 'angels' while Break had taken down one, and kept smacking the other in the helmet with his own spear, repeating, "The lord commandeth, stop hitting thine self!"
Rolling my eyes, I netted the rest, and dropped a bit of Healing Fire on one of Enter's who was starting to form a pool of blood under her armor, all of these poor souls likely Mastered. "So I think-"
"Shit!" Herb swore, grabbing two of the Angels and leaping towards me, the others moving on their own as well, and I braced myself, confused. "Bo-"
And then the ground beneath our feet exploded, my powers working instinctually, Kinetic Force Fields springing up under us, Acoustokinesis working overdrive, cutting off the song as I focused on dropping the 'sound' of the explosion, Mineral Manipulation identifying shrapnel and pressing against it combined with Unidirectional Telekinesis to push it all away, Stellar Negation keeping a bubble of coolness safe in the heart of the inferno.
As it faded, we were in a burnt wreck, the ceiling gone, and, looking, most of the Angels were missing limbs, not fully able to be pulled to safety, two outright killed, and I let them go, covering the survivor's wounds with Healing Fire, the Master victims thankfully unconscious to not feel the burning of their stumps being regrown.
Looking further outwards, I could detect other people in the wreckage around us, shooting out more Healing Fire with a wave of my hands. "He killed his own people," I noted, disbelievingly. It was stupid, and intellectually I understood, but emotionally? Now that I had people that depended on me, the thought of doing this to them?
"Why care about the pawns you sacrifice," Herbert shrugged. "You can always get more." At my glare, he put his hands up, "Just sayin' what he's probably thinking." He glanced upwards. "You want to jet? They won't be able to stop us, and then we get blow this popsicle stand."
I looked out, with a number of senses, saw people panicked, running, and, I knew, intellectually, that if I wanted to stop this we should leave and I should sneak back in in a month or two, assassinating the corrupt leadership, but. . .
Emotionally?
I was done playing with kid gloves, when no one else did.
They wanted to conquer us?
"Hey Break, did you know the Golden Rule's a Christian thing? Or at least, part of Christianity?" I inquired, using a swarm to jump someone with a cell phone, take it, and search for the exact quote.
"No shit, really?" the other man questioned, still in 'purple angel' form.
I nodded. "Twice. Luke 6:31 and Mathew 7:21. 'Do to others whatever you would have them do to you. This is the Law and the Prophets. They tried to take over New Avalon. Tried to kill us. Well, as they say, when in New Rome."
Break's chitinous faceplate retracted. "So, what're we doing?"
"Find more of his puppets, so I can trace them back to him. Did you grab a copy of Tempest's power?" I questioned, Second Triggered Atmosphere Control truly a power worth its cost.
"Yeah," the man grinned, "How bad you want it?"
Opening my hands, my answer was simple. "Biblical."
