Chapter 39: Eye of the Storm pt. II
"Come on, move it already!" a police officer hollered as he directed a newly arrived batch of vehicles to a secure position. Once in place, civilian workers piled out carrying crates full of guns and ammunition.
"Quite the haul there!" the police officer commented with great enthusiasm.
"We were in luck, we ran into those two," one of the workers commented with a thumb jerked at two men helping to unload the cargo. Age difference and similarity to each other marked them as probably father and son.
"Me and dad had barricaded ourselves in our family gun store. When we heard what was going on, we were more than willing to donate our entire stock for free," the son cheerfully answered, while the father grunted.
"And about damn time, if you ask me. You wouldn't see this kind of pussy-footing around during the Cold War, I tell you," he grumbled.
"Well, better late than never, you old fart," one of the workers added snidely, fed up with the old man's attitude. It earned him a glare in return.
"Anyway," the son began again as he dumped another crate and walked closer to the police officer, his voice dropping to a whisper along the way. "Is it true what they say?"
"About what, exactly?" the officer inquired in turn, though he had a good guess what he was referring to.
"That it's the local vigilante who's behind this? That he's taken command and raising an army to drive the lunatics back?" the gossip of the century. Or at least, that was what it felt like to those assigned to the masses of civilians pouring in to join the cause.
"I wouldn't say 'taken command', but he's certainly got things moving around here," the officer grudgingly admitted, the matter of a vigilante ordering police officers around like soldiers a sore spot for many.
"So where is he then?" the youth asked, and was that admiration that the officer could see in his eyes? Fuck, another one of those hotheads.
"Probably with the head honchos discussing plans or something," he answered while waving a dismissive hand, hoping the boy would take the hint and bother someone else. And people say that fighting is the worst part of war.
Meanwhile, standing alone in a room at the police headquarters, Krieg silently watched the proceedings outside in what could probably be interpreted as satisfaction. It had been less than twelve hours since his meeting with what was left of the police high command, and already his work was paying dividends. Hundreds had already answered the call, and thousands more would follow suit within the coming days. Yes, with this force, he could begin pushing back against the enemy. However…
"They are taking too long," he all but growled to himself, watching the chaotic mess unfurling below him. He could be out there fighting, as could they all, but instead he was forced to wait for these pampered civilians to get organized. It rankled him having to wait for this ragtag force, with each second passing allowing for the enemy to even exist on sacred Terra lighting a dark fire in his heart. No matter, he would just have to push both himself and his forces extra hard later to make up for lost time.
"Krieg," Commissioner Steele began as he stepped into the room, with Krieg giving him a brief glance over his shoulder.
"Are we ready to strike?" he asked, but could instantly tell from the look in Steele's eyes that he was to be disappointed.
"Not quite. There's actually been some problems on that front," Steele answered while leaning against the door frame.
"Oh?" now his curiosity was peaked, and his irritation was already growing worse.
"Some of the civilians aren't exactly thrilled at the idea of being thrown into the meat grinder like this, and they're refusing to fight," Steele explained.
"Then simply force them to the frontlines. We cannot spare any able-bodied people if we are to succeed," Krieg dismissed, already turning back to the window.
"Then I suppose you don't mind going down there and telling them that yourself," Steele stated, dragging Krieg's attention back to him.
"What?" was all he could think to say at that moment, and was not given time for a more formal response before Steele continued.
"It was your idea to create this makeshift army, your idea to arm the civilians and throw them at the enemy. But apart from that group you brought in the other night, you haven't really done much else but glaring out that window and brooding. You want your plan to succeed? Then go out there and put some God damn effort into it," at the end of that short tirade, Krieg was left blinking owlishly at him from behind his mask before regaining his composure.
"I am a soldier, not a priest or a commissar. Killing the enemies of mankind is what I am trained for, but motivating soft-hearted civilians is not my purpose," he stated, annoyance bleeding into his tone. The glare he received in return from Steele truly lived up to his name.
"And you expect them to follow you into death with that kind of attitude? That they're just gonna charge into the enemy just because you told them to?" he questioned. And was it Krieg's imagination, or did he sound furious, or maybe even disgusted?
"It is what soldiers are meant to do," Krieg answered, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"Yeah, you're right, soldiers do that. Shame that we only got frightened shopkeepers and skinny office workers," Steele countered. A moment of silence passed between them, both of them staring each other down. In the end, Krieg turned his gaze away with a resigned sigh.
"Where are they gathered?" he asked. What a nuisance.
"They're just outside the lobby, waiting for a damn good explanation," Steele answered, already stepping aside and gesturing down the hallway. With a final grumble, Krieg obliged and marched out. Everyone he passed must have sensed his dark mood, because they all hurriedly vacated his path as he all but stormed towards the front entrance, his irritation threatening to boil over. More delays, more setbacks, more time for the enemy to grow stronger. No more of this. I will get these people in line even if I have to shoot half of them myself.
As Steele had told him, Krieg found a horde of people gathered just outside the gates. Some looked angry, some looked afraid, all looked desperate for answers, but none looked ready for war. Time to rectify that.
"I have been told!" Krieg began as loudly as possible, drawing all of their attention to him. "That you refuse to take up arms against the enemy!"
"We're not fucking soldiers!" someone shouted, safe in his anonymity offered by the crowd.
"And do you honestly believe that the enemy cares about that? Has the recent slaughters not cemented the fact that they will not stop until they have killed every last one of you?" his question sparked a wave of murmurs among the crowd, but they still looked unconvinced.
"Isn't that what you're for? You're a hero, after all, we let you run around doing whatever you want just for this kind of stuff!" someone else cried out, and the crowd all but visibly rallied behind that one excuse. And that set off Krieg.
"Is that your response to this? Disgusting," he spat right back at them, a rant already building in his mind. There were so many things he had wanted to say now for months, and these people just gave him a chance to vent a bit. "I have heard your excuses repeated a thousand times now, and it sickens me. 'Don't worry, the Justice League will come and save us', 'let's not fight, the Justice League will handle it for us', 'ignore the danger, the Justice has it handled',"
Krieg suddenly spread his arms out, gesturing far and wide around him. "Well, where are they then? If you are so convinced that heroes will just magically appear at your side whenever there is danger, why am I the only one here fighting? Why have no one else shown up?" again, no one had an answer to him, so Krieg pushed on.
"I will tell you why they are not here; because we are the few, and you are the many. For every one hero in service, there are millions of regular people like you, all of them with the same selfish expectations. You expect the heroes to take the time to come and save you? They can barely handle their own cities!" by now, he was pacing back and forth before the crowd, every pair of eyes following his every step as if in a trance.
"Face the facts here; no one will came and save us now. Whether the Justice League is busy fighting elsewhere or have all perished, it makes no difference to us. We are on our own, the heroes will not save us, and the enemy is right at our door!"
"Then what good are you lot then?!" someone suddenly shouted at him, and whomever it was should count their lucky stars that Krieg could not pinpoint their exact location in the crowd.
"Look into a mirror and ask yourself that very question!" Krieg fired back, his blood boiling now. "The world balances on the edge of ruin, and you cower in your holes like rodents waiting for someone else to rescue you! What good are you in a world at war? What do you do but waste precious time and resources keeping you alive while everyone else is dying?" many looked stunned by the accusation, many more looked angry. Good, that meant there was at least some fire in them.
"I see that I have your attention now, so you better listen now. Whether you like it or not, your old lives of comfort are over now. You did not ask for it, I did not ask for it, none of us did. But our enemy cares not, it has made war on us all. Forget about concepts like innocent bystanders or collateral damage, those have no meaning anymore. There is no neutrality left in the world, you either fight with the enemy or stand against it,"
"What kind of mad shit is this?!" that one terrified question gave voice to the growing unease of the whole crowd. Annoying, but expected at this point.
"The kind that has become frightful reality to the whole world," here, Krieg paused for a moment, letting the words sink in as he observed the crowd. Still uncertain, still not committed. If only he had proper soldiers to fight with.
"War has always been something distant to you, a game that the leaders high above you play for their own selfish ends. Well I tell you now that this is not a game, this is not some minor squabble between high lords over mundane things like territory or pride. This is a fight for the very soul of humanity, for the survival of life as we know it," he could see the fear spreading among them now, but he was far from done.
"Our enemy knows no pity or remorse, it does not care who you are or what you believe in. To them, it is a simple matter; if you do not worship the same twisted gods as they do, then you are to be killed in their name," in local terms, that served as the stick for these people, and it was working. Now, for the carrot.
"This is why we need to stand together now, why everyone must fight for our continued survival,"
"Are you crazy?! We're just simple folk, what the hell are we supposed to do against that?!" yet again an anonymous nay-sayer served to undermine Krieg's efforts. But the people still looked to him, waiting for an answer. Excellent.
"Alone? Nothing. Together, side by side with each other? Anything. When we humans stand together, fighting for a common goal, there is nothing that we cannot accomplish!" the barest hints of excitement crept into his voice now.
"How? We don't have any special powers!" someone screamed from the back, and what little good mood Krieg had accumulated evaporated in an instant.
"Filth and aberrations! You do not need such paltry mutations of your pure genes to triumph!" he called out, fury coloring his tone to such an extent that the front ranks all took a collective step back.
"Easy for you to say! You're already a hero, most of us aren't that lucky!" that same person screamed right back, and Krieg vowed then and there to later find this individual and wring his heretical little neck. With gritted teeth and a furious snarl, Krieg tore off his helmet and gasmask. The crowd grew as silent as a mass grave.
"Take a good look here! Look upon my face and my eyes! And now tell me; what do you see?" silence met his question. "I will tell you what you see, a boy on the cusp of manhood. A regular human being with no advanced technology, no Meta gene and no supernatural powers. I am just a human being, no different than any of you,"
Still no response, which suited Krieg just perfectly as he donned his mask again. "I did not claim the title of 'hero' through some tainted genes or access to material wealth, but through blood and iron will! As nothing more than a regular mortal, I stood my ground against the tainted, the corrupted, and the fallen! I dared to face those that had traded away their blessed humanity for power, with nothing but a gun in my hand and faith in the glory of the Emperor and humanity! But most importantly, I can now look back on all of those instances and say this…" it felt like everyone was now holding their breath waiting for what he would say next.
"I AM STILL HERE!" there were no cheers to his proclamation, but the crowd was getting hyped up, their fear melting away. Emboldened, Krieg pushed on, so lost in the moment that he had yet to notice some of the youths having pulled out their phones and were recording it all.
"If I can do it, then so can you! Abandon such useless notions as fear and doubt, and there is nothing in this world that can stop you! For this is our strength as humans, why we are the chosen race destined to inherit the stars themselves! When we stand together, we are invincible!" now he was pacing back and forth before the crowd, gesturing wildly. And each word spoken hyped the crowd up even further.
"Our foe knows this, and so seeks to divide us with lies and fear! But we will not succumb to such pitiful tricks, practiced by spineless cowards clinging to power in the vain hope of prolonging the inevitable! We will fight them for every street, every house, every room, every inch if need be! We will show them that we are not mere sheep waiting to be slaughtered, but wolves hungry for their blood!" the specter of uncertainty was now gone, chased away by Krieg's fiery words. Now the crowd was hanging onto his every sentence, soaking up his boundless fervor with an enthusiasm never before seen.
"War is upon us all now, and yet you still refuse the call?! No more of that! Do not cower and whimper before the enemy! Rise up and resist!" and with that last rallying cry, the crowd erupted in cheers and roar, faces that had once only harbored fear now shone with righteous fury. And off to the side, Commissioner Steele could only stare at what he had pegged to be nothing but a brutal, if highly effective, enforcer of law and order.
"Damn, who knew he had it in him?" he muttered to himself, watching the crowd flock around a now visibly stiff Krieg, adoration all but plastered all over their expressions. Things are definitively gonna get interesting from now on.
Sometimes, Diana of Themyscira truly felt that eternal life was a cruel curse. It may give you much time to experience all that the world had to offer, to see history be written with your own eyes and behold each new wonder created. But it also gave you plenty of time to see and experience all the cruelties of Man in gruesome detail. Even now, standing against the horde amidst the burning ruins of Berlin, Diana could not help but reflect that the damage was so far nowhere near as devastating as when the Red Army had rolled in. The carpets of dead brought sorrow to her heart, but it was naught but foreplay compared to the blood-soaked trenches of France. Truly, she had seen far too much death to be affected by the carnage around her.
"Stirb, du schl-" though she had to admit, she had never faced such a vast horde of murderous psychopaths at the same time. But it did nothing to sway her resolve as she delivered a punch straight to the first screaming lunatic's face that pulverized bones and sent him careening down the street and knocking his fellow rebels over like bowling pins. Then she was in their midst, striking in every direction without mercy or restraint.
Broken bodies were hurled aside in her rampage, bullets shattered against her bracers, and her lasso sent armored vehicles flying. Panicked cultists tried to flank around her, and ran head-first into fusillades of gunfire, courtesy of the vengeful police officers advancing up behind the Amazon. Soon enough, this particular band was in full retreat, fleeing in every possible direction. Another skirmish over, another pile of corpses to add to her conscience.
"Thank you for the assist," one of the officers spoke up in heavily accented English.
"Don't thank me yet, this was just another skirmish," Diana answered as she gathered up her lasso and fastened it to her belt. The officer could only nod grimly of agreement, before casting his gaze upon those corpses broken by her fists.
"Not often you see this from heroes," he commented as he idly poked one of them with his boot.
"I was a warrior long before I became a hero," Diana answered before taking to the air. "I suggest you rendezvous with the rest! This will only get worse from now on!" then she was off before he could muster a reply. High up in the air, with all of Berlin stretched out below her, it truly felt like she was back in 1945. No matter where she looked, she saw death and devastation. And she knew with certainty that no matter where she went to render aid, she would doom countless innocents to death somewhere else with her absence.
"A senseless massacre, with no goals or objectives beyond slaughtering as many people as possible," she murmured to herself. What manner of insane ideology had managed to spawn such a global pandemic of slaughter? And what did it truly hope to achieve? Was it just killing for the sake of killing, or was there something deeper going on? Whatever the reason, Diana had no time to ponder it as she dived into the fray below again. She may not be able to save everyone, but she would damn well try saving as many as she could.
Deep below ground, in the sewers of Washington DC, eight hooded figures were loitering about. Above them, the sound of explosions and gunfire could still be heard sporadically, but none of them appeared the least bit concerned.
"You sure this is alright? I mean, there's still killing going on up there," one of them asked, only to be waved off by another.
"Positive, we've done our part of the harvest. Whatever killing that's going on above is nothing more than mop-up operations, nothing like the blood-soaked massacres we need," he answered while lighting a cigarette.
"Then what the fuck are we still doing here? The harvest has already been packed up and sent away, and there's hardly gonna be enough loot left above for us to even bother," another cut in.
"Plus, those genomorph thingies kinda gives me the creeps," someone at the back muttered but was ignored.
"Bottom line, we're not doing anything worthwhile here," the other continued.
"Our masters haven't given us any new orders yet. Until they tell us where to go next, we'll stay right here and wait," the one with the cigarette answered.
"Hmph, you'd think there'd be plenty of work for us to be done right now, but instead we-" before that sentence could be finished, a claw of pure darkness, big enough to swallow men whole in its grasp, appeared out of the dark tunnels and sunk its talons deep into soft human flesh. The victim was given just enough time to scream in pain before the grip tightened and he burst apart, with blood and squashed entrails leaking out between the massive fingers.
"What the fuck?!" the seven remaining scrambled away from the gruesome spectacle with terrified screams, many frantically reaching for whatever weapons they could find.
"I will admit, that was kind of a pathetic reaction," a distinctly female voice remarked dryly as they heard soft footsteps approaching.
"A light! Someone get a light!" one of the cultists frantically called out while the rest began huddling together like frightened children.
"You talked so casually about slaughtering people for your own amusement, and now you're absolutely terrified at the prospect of your own death," the voice continued as they could now make out a hooded and cloaked shape stepping out of the darkness.
"Stay back, bitch, or I'll fry you!" one of them shouted, a series of runes flashing to life on his hand and summoning a ball of fire.
"People like you disgust me, cowards who revel in the power they can wield over those less fortunate than themselves. You don't even care what terrible bargains you've struck, or even the consequences of your own actions, you're only concerned about getting more power for yourself," the hooded girl spat at them as she came to a stop next to her summoned claw as it unclenched and allowed the squashed mess within to pool on the ground.
"SHUT UP!" the one with the fireball screamed before hurling it straight at her. There was a cacophonic boom as the girl and everything around her vanished in an inferno of fire, the shockwave knocking all the cultists flat on their backs. Yet despite that, the one who attacked began laughing in ecstasy.
"HA! Not so tough now, are ya, bitch!" he cackled in absolute glee, which lasted as long as it took for a spear of pure darkness to strike with the speed of a lightning bolt and skewer him right through the mouth and nail him to the wall, his cocky smile now forever frozen on his face as a death grin.
"Some might say that a quick death would be a mercy for what you've done," the girl spoke up again as the smoke cleared, revealing herself to be completely unscathed. "But knowing what awaits you on the other side, I'd say whatever torture that could have been inflicted on you in this life would have been a mercy compared to death,"
Then, the darkness burst out from under her cloak, becoming a swarm of grasping talons and tentacles. Those cultists still alive spent the next few seconds screaming in pain as their bodies were ripped to bloody pieces, bathing every surface around them in blood. When the dust settled, and the darkness receded, Raven was left alone in a charnel house, breathing heavily as she clenched her fists under her cloak.
"You lost control again, didn't you?" another voice asked as a distinguished man stepped forward from behind her.
"With so much death all around me, and so much daemonic power flowing freely, it's getting hard to restrain my other half," she admitted, struggling to get her breathing under control while resolutely staring straight ahead. She could not quite bring herself to look upon her grizzly work.
"And you wonder why people see you as a threat," Jason Blood remarked snidely, and received a dirty glare in turn.
"I'm well aware of that. I don't need a devil on my shoulder nagging me about it, thank you very much," she snapped back at him.
"Of course not, you already have that covered," he snarked back before walking right past her, completely ignoring her scowl. Calmly navigating through the shredded body parts, Blood came to a stop before the only thing in the nearby vicinity that was not drenched in blood: an eight-pointed star painted onto the ground, surrounded by ancient runes of dark origins that even now pulsated with the leftover energy of whatever foul ritual had been conducted here.
"Now this is something of great concern," Blood remarked as he went down on one knee and let his hand hover over the runes, gently probing them with his own magic. "We ran into similar groups in Los Angeles, but they were in the midst of setting up. They had not come this far with their rituals,"
A frown appeared on his face. "This is some of the darkest of summoning magic I've ever seen, but I can't for the life of me figure out what they were summoning here,"
"Nothing, they were gathering souls up," Raven answered as she came to stand next to him.
"Hm?" was all he side as he gave her sidelong glance.
"I can still feel it, the echoes of the tormented souls dragged down here at the moment of passing," a short pause, in which a bitter smile appeared on Raven's face. "In a way, it's quite an ingenious scheme. Set up these underground nexuses in areas of high population density, then let their expendable pawns run rampant above until they are killed, all the while you suck up the souls of those killed on both sides. Win or lose, these sick bastards get exactly what they want," now even Blood looked disturbed.
"So this entire uprising is just a means to collect human souls. Question is though, for what purpose?"
"Whatever it may be, we need to find out and stop it before it's too late," Raven was now looking up towards the ceiling, her empathic powers feeling the foulness running loose on the surface.
"Move it, you lazy bastards! Those lunatics could be back any second now!" an elderly man wearing the markings of a general barked at his soldiers, who even now scurried about restoring broken barricades and dragging wounded to safety.
"Status on the air force?" he called out to a nearby radio operator, hunkered down in a crater.
"No word so far, sir," he answered.
"Dammit, just what we need right now," the general grumbled through gritted teeth.
"Incoming!" someone suddenly screamed, and everyone instantly dove into cover with weapons drawn.
"Give me a target!" the general shouted.
"Eleven o'clock!" came the confirmation, and every gun within hearing distance instantly swiveled in that direction to see a small, green-colored shape approaching. The general was the first to recognize this particular bogie.
"Stand down, everyone, friendlies incoming!" he assured his soldiers as he stood back up. Reluctantly, others followed his lead. Then they saw who was approaching, and the defense collectively relaxed.
"John Stewart, a sight for sore eyes these days," the general greeted the Green Lantern that landed before him.
"General Eiling," John greeted with a quick salute. "I see you've been hit pretty hard as well,"
Eiling's scowl returned to his face with a vengeance. "A third of my own boys turned traitors and started butchering those still loyal. We managed to corner those sons of bitches, but then they got reinforcements from civvie loonies. By the time we'd fought them off, the turncoats had already made themselves scarce with plenty of our arsenal. Whatever they couldn't run away with, they did their damnedest to demolish. We're still working on getting what tanks we still have up and running again, and don't get me started on such simple things as fuel and ammunition.
John simply bore the brunt of the general's rant and nodded in understanding. "Pretty much the same story all across the country. Some came through it better off than others, but every single military base has been hit in some capacity,"
"Well shit," was the only thing Eiling could muster to that. "And how bad is it everywhere else?"
John could not quite stop a wince from slipping through. "Bad. Don't know how things are looking in the rest of the world, but if they've been hit just as bad as we've been, then it's a global bloodbath,"
"That bad, huh? Then what about Washington? Any word from the White House?"
"The White House has gone dark," they both knew what that meant in this case.
"Damn. So who do we know with certainty is still alive and loyal?" Eiling asked.
"You," one single word, and it made Eiling freeze up with eyes as wide as saucers.
"Well then," he slowly began again, still trying to process those news. "Think you have time to do me the favor of getting me a list of whatever is left of the general staff? If I'm gonna drag this country out of this mess, I'm gonna need all the help I can scrape together,"
In all the millennia he had walked this Earth, Vandal Savage never thought he would taste such a bitter defeat on his tongue as he beheld the tall mountain spires that concealed his secret base. To be driven out of his home, by his own daughter of all people, the thought alone was enough to bring a murderous scowl to his lips.
"I still say we could have taken them all," the nasal voice of Klarion whined from behind him, sulking in the shadows while petting his familiar.
"The fact that you're still here with me tell me differently," he retorted, not really in the mood for another of the daemon's tantrums.
"Well, someone's a bit of a sourpuss here," Klarion sneered at him, and Vandal did not feel like pointing out the hypocrisy of that line.
"In any case, we need to move on now. Your magic has been able to confuse them for the moment, but it's only a matter of time until they come swarming out the mountains looking for us," he spoke, and Klarion just shrugged his shoulders.
"Whatever you say, old man," he answered before summing another portal. "So where to now?"
"For now? Anywhere but here. After that, we'll try to make contact with whatever's left of the Light and plan a counterattack," Vandal answered.
"Oooh goody! I call dibs on that bitch Circe thought, I've got a score to settle with her," Klarion declared with a vicious grin.
"As long as you deal with her for good, do as you wish," Vandal assured him as the duo walked through the portal and vanished.
Moving from cover to cover, arrow nocked and ready to be fired at a moment's notice, Green Arrow scanned the surroundings like a hawk. With no signs of hostiles, he gestured the way he had come, and well over a dozen terrified civilians came scurrying out, moving swiftly past him and back into concealment on the other side of the road.
"Roy, how are things back there?" he whispered into his comm.
"All quiet so far. We almost lost a few stragglers, but I got them back on the right track," his former partner whispered back. Any other day, he would have been ecstatic about working together with his old protégé again. Alas, recent events had soured any joy this occasion might have involved otherwise.
"You sure it was safe leaving Dinah behind like that? There were still quite a lot of those maniacs still standing back there," though it did warm his heart knowing that Roy still cared, no matter how scathing his comments had been as of late.
"Personally, I feel more sorry for those maniacs we left alone with her," he quipped, and was rewarded with snort from the other end.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right about that," Roy responded. Silence fell between them again as they continued to guide the civilians through the city. And whatever good mood that Green Arrow had been able to build up was slowly chipped away as they past one atrocity after the other. Young or old, male or female, armed or not, it made no difference to these despicable monsters. The corpses of innocents lay scattered nearly everywhere.
Most at least had suffered a relatively quick and clean death, with bullets or blades lodged in their bodies. Others… had not been as fortunate. And as they passed under a trio of those unfortunate, Green Arrow did everything he could not to look upon their dangling corpses. The way the civilians behind him started retching at the sight, he figured it was for the best he did not look, he needed to be alert for any threat.
"Hold up, we've got movement back here," Roy's warning had Green Arrow halting in his tracks, the civilians behind him following his lead.
"How bad?" he asked. The pause that followed already told him all he needed to know.
"Bad, very bad. A whole pack of them, and they look like they're on the hunt. Considering they're walking in our footsteps, it should be quite obvious what they're hunting," Roy's words only served to confirm what he already suspected.
"Great," Green Arrow mumbled to himself before addressing Roy again. "Alright, try to misdirect them somewhere else. We've got too much of a baggage to risk a confrontation here. Then double back and-"
That was when an arrow came soaring in, striking a mother and her infant child and skewering them both in one shot. Green Arrow was not even given time to be shocked by the sudden attack before he noticed an ominously blinking light on the blood-drenched arrowhead protruding from the mother's back.
"GET DOW-" he tried to warn, right before the arrow exploded like a grenade, splattering nearly everyone in the vicinity with blood, entrails and shrapnel. Green Arrow himself ended up flat on his back, his ears deaf to all sounds except a ringing noise. Sluggishly, he blinked his eyes as he stared up at the skies, frazzled mind trying to piece together what just happened. And when his senses finally returned to him, he frantically scrambled back on his feet, to be met by a scene of absolute carnage.
"No…." he despaired, watching the mangled pieces that used to be most of the civilians. Innocent people who had never done anything wrong, who he had sworn to protect. Just as he thought that, another arrow struck one of the survivors, an instant kill with the heart pierced. But there was no explosion this time, only a second arrow striking another survivor in the head, then a third and a fourth.
"No!" he cried out, trying to move to protect them. But it was too late. Whoever the archer was, his speed and precision left the last standing civilians dead before Green Arrow had even cleared the distance between them. It was over in seconds, an ambush that only took a few seconds had destroyed what he had fought tooth and nail for hours trying to keep alive.
"-ing on up there?! Dammit, Arrow, answer me already!" and suddenly Roy's panicked voice reached his ears. Or had been there the whole time and he had simply not noticed? But Green Arrow barely cared either way, his eyes already tracking to where the arrows had originated from. There, high above him, he could see the perfect sniper position with a bow. Teeth bared in a silent snarl, he had a grapple line out in record time and swinging up, barreling through the window with an arrow drawn and ready to be fired. He was met with an empty room.
"Where are you?" he snarled out, scanning the abandoned room for any sign of movement. He found none, but he did find a note nailed to the wall with an arrow. Cautiously, he approached it, slowly making sense of the sloppy and hastily written message on it.
"SO MUCH FOR BEING A HERO, AMIRITE? :)" it was enough to get his blood boiling like never before, grip tightening on his bow to the point that his knuckles turned bone-white.
"Oliver?" Roy suddenly asked from behind, but Green Arrow barely reacted as his former protégé came to stand next to him, the boy's own features darkening as he read the message as well.
"Don't try to stop me," Green Arrow warned, already glaring at the open door leading out, an obvious trail for him to follow.
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you," Roy countered, a smile on his face even when his voice lacked any signs of humor. The two made eye contact with each other, and a silent understanding passed between them.
"Just like old times, then?" Green Arrow asked. Any other day, it would have garnered a snide remark from the youth.
"Just like old times," Roy agreed. Together, the two of them set after their mysterious murderer. There would be a reckoning here.
Ever since the invasion started, the forces of Chaos had been on the offensive. Always attacking, always pushing, never allowing their enemies to recover. It sometimes meant climbing over their own dead, but it was a price they were willing to pay a thousand times over for victory. But even the cruel taskmasters of the Ruinous Powers knew that their pawns needed moments to catch their breath and call up fresh reinforcements, lest the horde burns itself out without reaching the objective. Casualties were of no concern to the higher echelons, but woe betide the one who had to report in a failure.
"So, got any word on how shit's going?" which was why the… "army" in Los Angeles was currently halting their rampage, taking the time to consolidate their numbers.
"Fuck if I know. The way I heard things, we were supposed to have mopped this place up already," this gave the low ranking cultists, those with no concerns beyond their own short-term gratification, time to just relax and laze about.
"What else would you expect? L.A.'s not exactly a peaceful city, not to mention that nutcase of a hero running around," this of course meant finally partaking in some of the loot that had been collected throughout their rampage. At least for those lucky enough to get some.
"You mean that World War cosplayer? He's just one punk, he can't possibly be that much trouble if we swarm the fucker," which was exactly what this particular group of cultists were doing, seated around a pickup truck with a heavy machine gun mounted atop it whilst passing around booze and cigarettes.
"Ha! I can hear that you have little experience dealing with capes. Those bastards are the toughest and meanest sons of bitches around, and they'll easily serve our collective asses on a silver platter if given the chance," though they were very careful to not get too inebriated and to keep their weapons close by. Those jealous glares from the rival gangs did not inspire trust.
"I'd personally be more worried about the daemon and the witch," from a nearby building, they could hear young girls screaming in agony, alerting them where the Slaaneshis had set up shop and marking that area as off-limits lest they felt like joining the festivities as part of the entertainment. They may be crazy and degenerate, but they were not stupid.
"The hell are you talking about?" further down the street, sporadic gunfire could be heard as well, indicating that the Khornates had grown bored with the waiting and started making some noise of their own. Again. Probably picking on the Nurglites after the Tzeentchians decided to camp out on the top of Hollywood Hill for ease of defense.
"Heard a rumor about it a while back, mentioned something about a daemon and a witch turning our boys to paste close to the docks. Butchered well over a thousand before vanishing without a trace," not that these cultists cared anything about that, being Undivided and all that. If anything, they always got a kick out of watching everyone else beat the snot out of each other. When they were not doing the exact same thing, of course.
"Really? Wonder what they must have done to piss off the Gods," and it judging by how the gunfire was drawing closer, it seemed like they were about to get another bout of entertainment, provided they could remain on the sidelines and not get dragged in.
"Bah! Nothing but exaggerated bullshit if you ask me. Why would the Gods turn against us like that? More likely they got their asses handed to them by the vigilante and they decided to make shit up to make their defeat sound less pathetic," already some of the gangs were calmly moving off the road and setting up on the sidewalks or inside buildings, all the while others began making rounds to take bets. A growing pastime among the followers of Chaos.
"Should we maybe move? This does sound like a quite a huge party," some concerned glances were thrown the way of gunfire. Khornates quickly learned to keep collateral damage to a minimum when stirring up trouble among allies. As in, those too stupid or pigheaded to learn were always the first to die in the fighting, thus leaving their more "stable" comrades behind. Still, you never knew when even their control would slip.
"Nah, we got Bessy here in case they get any funny ideas about us," but no true panic set in just yet, just the booze stashed away to avoid losing it to stray bullets.
"Hey, are those grenades I'm hearing?" now people were getting concerned. If the Khornates were crazy enough to bring out explosives to lighten the mood, then the Gods only know what other shenanigans they might be up to.
"Right, someone man Bessy, looks like this party is gonna get a bit more crazy than usual," though there was still no actual panic among the cultists, they now brought out their assortment of guns and took up positions just in case, some even turning their guns towards the Slaaneshi den. You never knew when those crackheads felt like having a bit of a macho contest with the Khornates.
"Oh look, here they come now. And in an awful hurry as well," now they could see their guests running helter skelter down the road. Oddly enough, they were firing over their shoulders for some bizarre reason.
"Oi, those ain't Khornates!" and was that not a surprise, seeing cultists without the expected blood-red marking branded onto their skins. And why did they look so afraid?
"Master, we must flee!" one cried out in an annoyingly high-pitched voice as he ran right past, swiftly followed by the rest of his comrades. The cultists who had expected a bit of a Khornate bloodbath only stared after them in a stupor, some scratching their heads in bewilderment.
"What the hell was that?" ever since the invasion started, the forces of Chaos had been on the offensive. Always attacking, always pushing, never allowing their enemies to recover. It sometimes meant climbing over their own dead, but it was a price they were willing to pay a thousand times over for victory. But this also fostered a mindset of endless offensive among the rank and file, a sense that their enemy was merely prey that needed to be hunted down and butchered.
It never occurred to them that the prey would actually fight back and launch a counterattack.
"Storm them!" the cry went up, and suddenly they came rushing down the street. Police officers, shopkeepers, bank accountants, grocery store employees, seamstresses, gun enthusiasts, and a myriad of other people. But they all had two things in common; they were armed, and they were hungry for revenge.
"Shit! Form up, form up!" panicked cultists tried to get into better positions, but came under withering fire as the attackers poured everything they had down range. Many cultists fell over, bodies riddled with holes, while other dove for cover. All the while, the attackers advanced ever closer.
"Fire up Bessy already! Shred those suckers!" with two thick metal plates welded on as primitive shields, the gunner atop the pickup truck was all but invulnerable to the small arms fire whizzing him by, and he was now swinging the gun around to scythe through the charging ranks. That was when he felt a shadow descend towards him.
Confused, he turned his eyes skyward, to find a skull-faced warrior in a greatcoat coming down with an axe in hand. The next second, his head went flying, and then his killer was in the cultists' midst.
"Oh fuck, it's him!" someone cried out in dismay, but Krieg cared not who as he sat about his work. First axe blow took a leg off by the knee, then the second split another target's skull in two as his boot came down to crush the downed cultist's throat whilst his free hand drew a pistol and downed another two targets with rapid shots to the chest and stomach area.
"Crush the weak!" someone shouted as they came in with a makeshift club. Krieg merely ducked and allowed the blow to pass overhead before he came back up with a knife in hand, ramming it up through the chin and into the brain. Then he pushed the corpse aside, sidestepped another lunge, and brought the axe up between the legs of the attacker. His howls were near strong enough to shatter glass as Krieg tugged the axe loose and left the entrails spilling out onto the pavement.
"Is that the best you've got?!" and now his forces had properly joined the fray, barreling into the disordered cultists with fists and knives and rifle butts. It quickly turned into a slaughter then, as vengeful citizens ripped the now terrified cultists apart and sent the survivors scurrying for their lives.
"The Gods have abandoned us!" their pathetic shrieks was like a soothing balm for Krieg's soul, but he was nowhere near satisfied yet, nor would he ever be so long as a single one of those wretches drew breath. And as he looked upon his band of soldiers, he felt a miniscule amount of pride when he saw the same fire reflected in their eyes.
"Everyone, follow me!" he cried out before charging onward. And with a roar of approval, they followed after him, eager for more killing. They had been hounded day and night in their city, in their own homes.
Never again.
