So I will freely admit that the opening scenes of this chapter was heavily inspired by the anime Hellsing Ultimate, in particular by a scene from the battle of London. For those who have no clue what I'm talking about, don't worry, you don't need to know to understand what's going on. For the rest of us:

AKUMA STOCKING, DOO DOO BEE DOOO!


Chapter 40: Eye of the Storm pt. III

Paris:

Panicked throngs of people fled down the streets, fires raging all around them. Behind them, like a pack of wolves chasing their prey, packs of cultists ran after them. Waving blood-stained weapons through the air, whooping and hollering in demented joy, they herded their terrified prey onward. Those too slow were swiftly overtaken and ripped to bloody chunks by the deranged cultists. Too late did the civilians see the trap, when they found the road ahead blocked by even further packs of cultists. Trapped and surrounded, many pleaded for mercy. None was given, and soon they were all the tormented and short-lived playthings of madmen.


Moscow:

Badly mauled and exhausted defenders manned bullet-riddled barricades, pouring led down the street. Their bravado proved short-lived as frenzied cultists, without care for their own casualties, swarmed across the barricades. Defenders were beaten into submission, weapons and clothes ripped off them, then the cultists amused themselves by hacking off their limbs one by one before moving on to the next target. Those poor unfortunates to survive the dismemberment were strung up on poles and carried onward as battle standards as the slaughter continued.


Stockholm:

Ships once part of local nations' fleet now sat happily at anchor in port, the eight-pointed star branded on their hulls and guns blazing away. Whole city blocks were leveled by the indiscriminate bombardment as boats loaded with cultists poured into the harbor and up the rivers. As defenses crumbled, bored cultists found great enjoyment in throwing captured civilians into their boats' propellers, laughing and cheering as their screaming victims were shredded and drowned.


Mecca:

The Great Mosque of Mecca had been turned into a charnel house. Mutilated and dismembered Imams dangled from the spires as many thousands of captured pilgrims and citizens were butchered like cattle within its walls. Every surface was stained by the blood of innocent, with body parts and entrails hung all over the place as grotesque decorations. All while laughing cultists danced through the halls to the rhythm of the tortured screams of their victims.


Vatican:

The Sistine Chapel was going up in flames, its great architecture crumbling under relentless bombardment, burying alive what few defenders still drew breath within its walls. Out in St. Peter's Square, priests and unfortunate bystanders were dragged out by the hundreds. Before jeering crowds of cultists, they were all impaled atop meter high poles, their still twitching bodies raised high so that their blood rained down on the cultists below, already in the act of beginning a great orgy whilst chanting blasphemous prayers to their foul gods.


Korean Demilitarized Zone:

Terrified South Koreans manned the line, emptying entire magazines down range. Opposite them, a teeming horde of North Koreans were pouring onward. But there were no war cries issuing forth from them, no cruel laughter or roars of rage. All they uttered were weak and pitiful moans as they shambled onward, rotting and malnourished bodies leaking pus and other body fluids. Flies buzzed around the horde, often so thick that they could be mistaken for a dark mist. Many of these nestling within the pox-riddled bodies that slowly dragged themselves across the border, their vacant and milky-white eyes staring mindlessly ahead like puppets moving at the behest of another's will. With bodies riddled with bullets and limbs shredded by barbed wire, the horde of maggot-filled corpses lurched onward, for Papa Nurgle desired more children in his garden.


Beijing:

Hordes of frenzied berserkers, foregoing modern weaponry in favor of axes and knives, stormed through the streets, leaving behind blood-soaked carpets of dismembered corpses. Frantic police forces tried to offer resistance, gunning down many a lunatic at range. But such was their rage that many powered through what should have been crippling wounds, getting in close with their attackers and tearing into them with their teeth and bare hands. Then, with chunks of meat still stuck in their mouths, they charged deeper into the city, looking for more victims.


Jerusalem:

With the sun blotted out by smoke and ash rising from the city, cultists charged through the streets in the shade of their own mindless rampage. Those innocent still breathing, be they Jews, Christians or Muslims, were all rounded up and dragged kicking and screaming to whatever place of worship were nearby. At gunpoint, they were herded inside until they were packed shoulder to shoulder before being locked in. Then, as the cult leaders toasted the Dark Gods, gasoline and flamethrowers were brought forth, dousing the buildings. And the cultists laughed and joked about having a barbeque as those trapped within were burned alive or choked to death by the smoke.


Tunis:

It was a scene straight out of a Mad Max movie, as packs of cultists atop a wide and ramshackle collection of motorbikes, cars and trucks raced towards the capital. Tattered banners, many made out of the skin of humans, fluttered wildly in the wind, bearing the many horrid symbols of Chaos. In the wake of this army of bloodthirsty speed freaks, tied by thick ropes and chains, captured victims were dragged along the rough and sandy ground, their skin and flesh peeled away piece by piece with each mile. And the cultists riding this land-bound armada were even now screaming prayers to their dark gods as they fired wildly into the air, eager for more bloodshed ahead.


Sao Paulo:

The streets were overrun with monsters. But these were not the metaphorical case of monsters in human form, no, these were hideous and malformed monsters of fangs, teeth, claws, and far too many limbs for a regular being to possess. Deformed mutants, devoid of even the most basic of minds, and only ruled by the instinct to kill. And that was what they did, killing and devouring everything that dared so much as move within their line of sight. And from atop the highest buildings, robed cultists watched the slaughter below and cackled like children playing with their pets. Around them, eldritch energy crackled and flailed, gifts from their new master which had allowed them to reshape their servants into the hideous spawns now running rampant below. And what a pleasing change it was to their eyes.


4 days after beginning of Chaos invasion

One positive thing that Krieg could say about cultists was that they were so predictable in their behavior. When presented with a weak and easy target, they would blindly charge in to get as many kills as possible. And when presented with a tangible threat, they would run and hide rather than risk their lives. Pathetic behavior, but predictable, and made his job all the easier. Which was why he was currently standing atop the rooftop of an apartment complex, five dead cultists at his feet. Days of relentless fighting had broken the cultists in Los Angeles, and now they were running scared, with only a few strongpoints still offering resistance.

That ended today.

"Breaching," Krieg informed through the radio as he kicked the door open and advanced down the staircase, shotgun in hand. First target had a quarter of his skull blown apart, second target lost his throat, third one had her chest blown apart, fourth one got amputated at the knee before a stomp on his throat silenced him. Then Krieg threw aside the gun as a cultist tried to skewer him. A dodge and a swipe, and suddenly the cultist had Krieg's knife lodged straight through an eye socket. Then he was out of the staircase and into a corridor on the top floor.

A barrage of bullets came at Krieg, but he charged straight into it with the corpse of his last kill held like a shield before him. The second the barrage ended, Krieg threw the corpse aside as he drew a pistol. BANG, one target fell back with a hole through the forehead. BANG, second target with similar results. BANG BANG BANG, third one took three to the chest before falling.

Someone came barging through a door to his left, swinging at his skull. A sidestep, and the weapon ended up buried in the wall. Then Krieg's pistol was shoved straight into the cultist's face. BANG! Throwing the pistol aside, he picked up an assault rifle from one of the dead cultists, reloading it as he strode down the hallway. More poured in ahead of him, and the first two fell over from a quick burst from Krieg.

"Kill him!" someone from the back screamed, and they raised their guns to return fire. Krieg was faster, and a flashbang bounced down the hallway. BANG, and suddenly there was a flash of light that left the cultists screaming in pain and clutching eyes and ears. Krieg was unaffected as he charged straight at them. A quick burst felled one target, then another burst left a trail of bullet holes from balls to brain, and then he was at point-blank range and emptied the last bullets into the skull of one cultist.

Knives now in hand, Krieg slit the throat of the first blind target, then shoved the other knife into the neck of the next target. Someone swung a gun at him, but Krieg caught the arm and gave it a vicious tug that broke it at the elbow. His screams ended with a knife rammed through his mouth. The gun was snatched up and let loose on full auto, sending four more falling over in sprays of blood. Two were charging at him now, trying to skewer him. Sidestepping the first, he dodged the second's swing before catching him around the throat and turned the voltage in his glove up to max.

His screams only lasted for a short moment, ending around the same time as the stench of scorched meat hit those still standing. As the smoking corpse collapsed, Krieg turned his attention to the other attacker, now frozen in terror as his weapon fell from trembling hands. Krieg calmly walked over, picked up the discarded weapon, carefully aimed it were the heart was, and then skewered the cultist before nailing him to the wall. Throughout it all, the cultist had not made a single move to protect himself.

That left only one still standing, the apparent leader of this group, who was now fleeing down the hall. Krieg merely let out an annoyed huff as he brought out his grapple gun, aimed, and fired. The grapple hook struck straight in the leg, ripping through soft flesh and digging deep into bone. The leader promptly feel over, wailing like a pathetic child as Krieg began hauling him in.

"Mercy! Please, have mercy!" he screamed as he desperately clawed at the floor until both skin and nails broke. But Krieg paid no attention to that as he brought the mewling wretch under his boot.

"How many more on this floor?" he asked whilst reloading his pistol.

"S-six more! They're guarding the armory further down the hall!" the cultist hurried to answer.

Krieg just nodded his head as he cocked his pistol. "Thank you, your cooperation is most appreciated," BANG! Then he advanced down the corridor. It was not hard to find the correct door, he only needed to listen to the pathetic whimpers of cowards. Grabbing a smoke grenade, he tore the door open and chucked the grenade in before diving to the side. Seconds later, gunfire poured out of the room, turning the door to splinters, and then the room was filled with smoke and coughing.

Without hesitation, Krieg rushed inside, going for the first humanoid shape that appeared in his line of sight. Leaping atop him, he dug his thumbs into his targets' eyes and popped them both out. He left the wretch screaming in agony as he moved on to the next target, driving a knee up between the legs, then grabbing the head as he doubled over and twisting it until he heard the crack.

Someone was coming at him from the left, blindly swiping at him with a knife. Krieg caught the attack by the wrist, twisted until the grip loosened, caught the knife as it fell out of numb finger, plunged it into the target's throat, then kicked the body into the next target. He heard something behind him, and sent a spinning kick that shattered a cultist's jaw and sent him crashing into a crate of grenades. With desperate movements, the cultist fumbled to grab a grenade, only for Krieg come in with a knee to the stomach that knocked the air out of him. A grenade was snatched up, the pin pulled, and then the grenade was shoved down the throat of the cultist and given a final punch to securely lodge it down the filth's throat.

The cultist was then promptly hurled out a window, falling only a meter or so before there was a BANG, and the side of the building was painted with his innards. With a lull in fighting, Krieg picked up a sawed-off shotgun from among the piles scattered across the room. First on the list was the cultist still trapped beneath the body of his comrade. Just as he managed to wiggle himself free, Krieg stepped up and blew his chest to pieces. Then, as he reloaded, he walked over to the wretch clutching at his empty eye sockets, still screaming in pain.

"Pathetic," Krieg spat out as he pushed the shotgun to the back of his head and pulled the trigger. With one floor cleared, Krieg grabbed a pistol and moved towards the nearest staircase to continue his purge. But as he drew nearer, he could hear gunfire coming from the staircase. With a firm grip on his pistol, he kicked the door in, rushed forward and took aim at the first thing to move in his line of sight. He just barely managed to stop himself from pulling the trigger once he spotted the blue piece of cloth tied around his target's arm. We really need to develop a more formal set of uniforms for everyone.

"Report," he requested as he stomped his way to the front of the group, finding them all huddled just outside the door leading to the second floor. A quick peek through the open door revealed more than a dozen corpses littering the hallway, all with blue armbands.

"We've cleared the lower floors, but the cultists have barricaded themselves on this floor. We tried breaching through here, but the bastards have set up a machine gun nest down the corridor and mowed us down. Smoke and flashbangs didn't work either," the leader hurriedly explained as one of his troopers wrapped fresh bandages around his blood-soaked arm.

"Hm," carefully, Krieg began to poke his head out the door. He just managed to catch a quick glimpse of the enemy down the hallway before he dived back into the staircase as a storm of lead was poured down on his position.

"Annoying," he grumbled mostly to himself before he began heading back up again. "Hold position here, I will deal with this obstacle,"

Confused glances were shared among the soldiers at his declaration. "Uhm, sir? You won't find any entrances on the upper floor,"

"Then I will simply make one," then he was gone before they could say anything else. He quickly made his way back towards the armory he had left behind, rummaging through its content. I could have sworn I saw some- Yes, there it is. A bag of C4 was quickly scooped up, along with a pair of Uzis, then back towards the staircase. Once there, he stopped and began to slowly backtrack again. Let's see here, if I'm correct, then the machine gun should be right about… here!

Then he stopped and began planting some of the C4 on the floor before backing away with the trigger in hand. One click, and then there was a great boom as the building shook from the force. Dust, smoke and debris billowed out in every direction, blanketing both hallways. Krieg did not even bother with waiting for it to dissipate and charged on in, leaping into the hole and landing among the burnt and shredded innards of a cultist. Humanoid shapes were stumbling about in the smoke, coughing and wailing. Krieg gave them no chance to recover and let loose with full auto from both Uzis at once. Only when the guns clicked empty and nothing else moved within his line of sight did Krieg release his grip on the triggers.

"All clear!" he called over his shoulder as he threw aside the spent guns. Seconds later, and militia forces streamed by him, hunting for potential survivors.

"Sheesh man, you just blew through them like it was nothing!" the squad leader commented with wide eyed wonder. "The fuck did you even need folk like us for anyway?"

"To clean up after me," Krieg did not stick around to hear any replies to that, his job was currently done anyway. As he made his way through the building, he passed by more squads of police officers and militia sweeping through the place floor by floor. Each and everyone of them stopped at his approach to either salute him or simply gawk at him. Krieg gave a curt nod to those doing the former, and outright ignored those doing the latter. This was a war, not a sight-seeing tour.

"Eyes on the enemy, boy," he even growled at one particularly annoying militia, who had brought out a cellphone to take photos at him. The second he realized that Krieg had been speaking to him, he dropped the phone like it was hot coal and gave a hurried salute.

"Sorry, sir, won't happen again!" he hurriedly assured him, sweat breaking out on his brow.

"It had better not. I have more important things to do than scraping together whatever will be left of your carcass if the enemy catch you unaware like that," Krieg stated, then walked away, soon hearing muffled snickers behind him from the unfortunate militia's comrades.

"If you find something amusing, feel free to explain the humor to my face!" he called over his shoulders, and the snickers came to a very abrupt end. Ugh, civilians. Outside, a makeshift convoy of police cars and civilian vehicles were parked, militia personnel running to and from to either unload or pack up various cargoes. Krieg only spared it a quick glance, along with a cursory headcount of the number of wounded being loaded onto a bus, before he made his way to one of the police cars.

"Get me Commissioner Steele," he ordered, and soon had a police radio in hand.

"Krieg, I take things are going well on your end?" Steele was quick to inquire.

"Indeed, we have cleared out the last pocket of effective resistance here. We still have scattered bands of cultists trying to break out of the noose-" a pause as explosions and gunfire came from just a few blocks away, prompting everyone to duck and seek cover. Krieg however remained standing and only gave a sidelong glance at where the noise had come from. "- But they are being hunted down and dealt with as we speak,"

"Good to hear. Me and the boys have had a cakewalk down at the docks here. No effective resistance and a buttload of shell-shocked cultists just wandering around looting at random. Not to mention piles of dead cultists even before we got on the scene,"

A frown appeared behind Krieg's mask at the news. "Signs of infighting?"

"Hard to say at this stage. What few prisoners we managed to capture just kept rambling about a daemon and a witch or something like that. Whatever the case, there's been no trouble for us,"

"Good, then it only leaves the suburbs to clean out, then the city will be ours again,"

A dry chuckle came from the other end of the radio. "Doubt it will be much of a fight at that point. These punks will probably cut tail and run once we come down on them in force,"

"Do not count on that, commissioner. They may be a superstitious and cowardly lot, but they will still put up a fight even against insurmountable odds, if only for a little while," Krieg quickly cautioned.

"Sure about that? These bastards haven't shown much of a spine, let alone the ability to coordinate an effective defense,"

Even though Steele could not see it, Krieg still shook his head. "I can assure you, as much as we may frighten them, they fear their masters even more. They will try to stand their ground and fight, if for no other reason than to escape the wrath of their masters,"


"They're pulling back!" the cry went up, and the defenders cheered, some even hugging each other in jubilation. A sight you never would have expected to see, considering the defenders were a motley mix of Belle Reve inmates and guards.

"Don't start celebrating now! They'll be back for another go at us soon enough! Shore up the defenses, get the dead and wounded out of the way, and restock on ammunition!" Icicle Sr.'s harsh words quickly scattered their elation and sent them scurrying across the battlements.

"Things never end, it seems," he muttered to himself as he cast his gaze out on the swamplands surrounding Belle Reve. An ugly sight any other day, now made worse by the innumerable bodies floating all over the place, most of them in various stages of decay. Flies were already gathering in thick clouds down there, and the stench was near unbearable. Alas, nothing could be done about the bodies without exposing themselves to vicious counterattacks.

And then there was the main, and only, road leading to and from the penitentiary. Bastards had been real stubborn, hurling themselves straight down the road with no real concern for casualties. Now, you could barely see the asphalt under the piles of bodies and wrecked vehicles.

"What I would give for lunatics like that to do my dirty work," he grumbled before walking away from the battlements. The inside of the prison was just as dreary as the outside, with wounded soldiers clogging up the hallways. Shit just kept getting worse and worse with every day that passed, it seemed. They were still holding, but every attack chipped away at the defenses piece by piece.

"Boss, the warden wants to see you at the helipad," one of the inmates informed him as he passed by.

Icicle Sr. gave a quiet groan. "Right, make sure someone is watching the front door. I'd hate for someone to try and sneak inside while we're busy with other stuff. I'll go see what his royal highness wants,"

One of the many annoyances he had to deal with as of late, his erstwhile ally and secret colleague Hugo Strange. A brilliant man with a knack for playing psychological games with his victims. Bastard could scheme and manipulate like few others when given the chance. Too bad he knew nothing about combat and warfare, making him little better than deadweight in this ongoing siege. That would have been bearable, if not for his need for controlling and micro-managing tendencies. Seriously, can't that bald little freak just sit back and let me do my job in peace?

Oh well, no use complaining about it now, better to just suck it up and continue onward. He would just have to make sure that Strange was kept busy with other shit so he could focus on keeping those weird nutcases outside. Though it seemed like someone else had already done that job for him, if the heavy frown on Strange's face when Icicle Sr. joined him on the helipad was any indication.

"So what's this about now?" Icicle Sr. asked as he came to stand next to Strange, who for his part looked like he had just swallowed a particularly sour lemon.

"Communication have been spotty at best as of late, but we got word in that we're getting reinforcements by air soon," he answered icily. In fact, they could even now see a handful of black dots in the distance growing closer.

It had Icicle Sr. raising an eyebrow at him. "They with the Light?"

"Unfortunately, no. I've so far been completely unable to reach any of the higher ups. A handful of agents in America have reported in, but they're scattered all over the place and being picked off one by one. For all intents and purposes, the Light currently does not exist as a cohesive force,"

"Then how the hell do we know that they're on our side and not just more lunatics trying to kill us? These fuckers have a nasty tendency to sneak up on you from the side with a friendly handshake and a dagger behind their back," Icicle Sr. was quick to point out, the air already growing colder around him.

Again, Strange looked like he had been force-fed something particularly sour. "I can assure you, this one is most certainly not the pawn of some maniacal power,"

That answer did not assure Icicle Sr. in the slightest. "How can you be sure of that?"

He got his answer to that question when the first helicopter landed, and then a woman that he had believed, and secretly hoped, that he would never have to see ever again stepped out with an aura of unshakable confidence around her. Well, it seemed like fate had heard his little plea and decided to straight up give him the middle finger in return. Was this karma for past deeds perhaps?

"Amanda Waller," he, very reluctantly mind you, greeted her as she stood before the both of them. But the bitch did not even have the courtesy of looking at him and instead had all of her attention on Strange.

"Warden Strange, I see you've managed to keep my old seat warm in my absence," and the first words out of her mouth had both men scowling at her.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm still in control of this facility, which is more than can be said about your tenure as warden," Strange fired back, but Waller did not so much as bat an eye.

"A commendable effort, I'm sure, but I'll be taking over here from now on," she countered even as more helicopters landed around them, disgorging more and more troops.

"On whose authority?" Strange demanded to know, a sentiment quietly shared by Icicle Sr. on the matter.

"General Wade Eiling. Since Belle Reve is one of few points to have resisted the invasion, he wants to use this as a staging point for future operations and counter-attacks. We're done being purely on the defensive," Waller stated, already walking past him and heading into the Penitentiary.

"Now hold on here, Eiling does not have that kind of authority!" Strange was quick to point out as he and Icicle Sr. raced to keep up with her.

"He does now. The White House has gone dark, most of the federal government has either been killed or turned traitor, and only isolated pockets have been able to weather the storm. Simply put, there's no one of higher rank left," and did that not come as a blow to the guts to the both of them. Icicle Sr. had never cared for the government or the law, but he finally understood the magnitude of this invasion is this much damage had been wrought.

"Now if you're done with your questions, I've got plenty of work ahead of me. I will expect full cooperation from the both of you," and then she was gone around the corner, Strange still clinging to her heels trying to argue his case. Icicle Sr. took the chance to just slip away for some lone time to think. It seemed like things were escalating far beyond what he or anyone in the Light could have ever expected. Now only time would tell if any of them would make it through the fire.


"All in all, I'd say things are progressing smoothly," Azkillon commented mostly to himself as he beheld the holographic map of Earth arrayed before him.

"Indeed. Most of Earth's governments have been dealt with, leaving only isolated pockets of resistance left for us to mop up," Adrian Forge commented at his master's side, a pleased smile on his stolen face.

"You two are being far too optimistic right now. Our forces have suffered heavy casualties, even with the element of surprise on our side. Now, we've lost the momentum and are scrambling to reorganize for the second push," Captain Atom cautioned from opposite of Azkillon.

A dismissive hand was waved in his general direction. "You worry too much, my dear captain. What you're describing is merely a minor setback in the grand scheme of things. All is proceeding exactly as planned here,"

"With all due respect, my liege, but you're gravely underestimating Earth and its defenders. Most of the Justice League is still standing, Atlantis is mobilizing for war, and our loss of momentum is allowing our enemies to reorganize and mount a proper defense. We've already received word that the Americans have reformed their military command staff, how long until other countries do the same?" but Captain Atom was insistent on the matter, something that garnered him a look of anger from Adrian.

"Mind your tongue here! Our great leader may have brought you on as a consultant, but do not think yourself his equal in these matters!" he snarled at the turncoat hero, whose eyes began blazing with nuclear energy.

"Try me, worm," Captain Atom spat right back at him, which had the air around Adrian beginning to crack and distort as he called upon the powers of the Warp.

"That is enough," three words, softly spoken without any real strength behind them, and suddenly both Adrian and Captain Atom stood down, both suddenly looking unnaturally tired and drained as if they had just gone weeks without sleep.

"My dear Captain, I understand your concerns. You more than anyone else here knows the capabilities of the enemy, and so rightly feel worried about the state of things. But rest assured that everything is proceeding just as planned for me. Whatever resistance that our enemy manages to mount against us will amount to nothing in the end," Azkillon's words were like the sweetest honey, all but visibly ensnaring Captain Atom and soothing all of his worries.

"Yes, of course, my lord. Forgive me for ever doubting you," he hastily apologized with a deep bow, but Azkillon just waved it aside.

"No need for that. You're a valued comrade and advisor after all. Now please, both of you, return to your assigned duties. There's still much to be done before we achieve final victory," he spoke, and the two servants obeyed without hesitation.

"So much work to be done, so little time," Azkillon lamented to himself once he was alone. That vainglorious fool Markoth was growing ever impatient, deeply unsatisfied with the slow process of transporting his retinue through the Zeta Warp Gate. Luckily, if things progressed as he had planned, then Markoth and the other champions would have plenty of things to busy themselves with soon.

"Yes, all is going according to plan," he assured himself as he strode out of the room, only to find his way blocked by another of his disciples.

"Katana, how might I be of assistance?" he inquired as he amplified his friendly aura. Katana remained unmoved as she stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"I want what was promised," she declared.

It brought a frown to Azkillon's face. "And you will have it, once our final victory has been achieved,"

"That's not good enough for me anymore. I've killed Ra's al Ghul for you, and assassinated countless politicians and generals across the globe. But despite all that, I'm no closer to my goal than when I started," she stated.

"Were not the gifts bestowed upon your body enough of a favor to assure you of our deal? After all, how well do you reckon you would have fared against Ra's without the Gods empowering your mortal shell?" Azkillon questioned, annoyance beginning to bubble up within him.

"Feel free to take them back if that is what you wish, just give me what I want," she declared with finality. From behind his helmet, Azkillon glared at this impudent mortal, daring to make demands of him in such a brazen manner. But then, the anger and annoyance bled away and he smiled at her.

"But of course, my dear," he began, speaking like a kindly old grandfather lending a helpful hand to a troubled youth. "You've done great service to us, and should be rewarded accordingly. Please, give me a few days to gather the necessary components and prepare the ritual, and then you shall have your just reward,"

Katana glared at him a moment longer, thoughts all but visibly bouncing around in her eyes. Then, she gave a curt nod before turning around and marching away. The instant her back was turned, Azkillon's once welcoming smile turned into something far more sinister and predatory.


"Red Arrow, you see anything yet?" Green Arrow whispered through the comm as he sneaked through the burnt out ruins of yet another apartment complex. Depressingly enough, those were becoming a recurring sight.

"Nothing yet. Whoever this is, they're damn good at this," Red Arrow whispered back, moving parallel to him a few streets to his right.

"Stay sharp, this is obviously a trap for us," Green Arrow cautioned. They had been chasing their elusive target for days now, with the bastard always leaving just enough of a trail behind for them to keep the chase up. If that did not carry the hallmarks of a trap, Green Arrow did not know what else would.

"Maybe we should fall back then and regroup with Black Canary? Last I heard, she's been able to browbeat the law enforcement into striking back at the attackers,"

Even though he Red Arrow obviously could not see it, Green Arrow shook his head. "Too late for that now, I'm afraid. We've gone far too deep into the spider's web to pull out. Besides, she always did hate when I showed up at the last minute to steal her thunder," his attempt at humor at the end fell flat when not even so much as a chuckle came from the other end.

"Maybe, but I don't like how-" and then the rest turned into nothing but garbled transmission, right at the exact moment that the unmistakable rumble of an explosion reached Green Arrow's ears. A rumble that came from the same direction that his former protégé was supposed to be in.

"Roy!" Green Arrow shouted in alarm, panic making him momentarily forget about using codenames. But he soon had other matters to worry about, as instincts had him leaping aside and into cover. Barely a second later, arrows passed through right where he had been standing. Then, a dark shape descended from up above, arrow already nocked and ready. Green arrow barely dodged the second arrow, then sidestepped as the attacker crashed into his old position whilst he drew and nocked his own arrow.

It was released at near point-blank range straight into the attacker's face, but the blunted trick arrow seemed to do little more than annoy the attacker, who swung their bow at Green Arrow like a club. He blocked the first blow with his own, thought better of it when he felt the force behind that blow, and then dodged aside from the second.

"Die already!" a gravelly, but still distinctly female, voice snarled at him as the attacker came in for a third swing. Green Arrow dodged under it and came up with an uppercut that knocked a tooth loose and sent the attacker stumbling back.

"Not today," Green Arrow retorted, trick arrow nocked and drawn back. Just as the attacker recovered their wits, Green Arrow released, and the attacker was quickly bound head to toes in thick rope. With the threat seemingly neutralized, Green Arrow lowered his bow and approached his attacker, who was flailing about like a fish dragged up on dry land whilst spitting out an entire dictionary's worth of curses.

"For your sake, Red Arrow better still be alive," Green Arrow growled out, ready to just knock this one out and drag her sorry ass to police headquarters.

"Worried about the sidekick? Ever thought of making up your fucking mind on whether you want us around or not?" the attacker snarled at him. And something in her words made Green Arrow actually stop and take a really close look at her face. Short hair, its blonde color almost lost amidst all the dried blood, a face marred by scars and tattoos, teeth filed into vicious fangs, and feral eyes filled with bloodlust. It should have been a stranger to him. But something about it just seemed so terrifyingly familiar. No, it can't be…

"Mia?" the realization made him freeze up, and that was all that Mia needed. With a roar more akin to a beast, she broke her bindings like it was wet tissue paper and leapt at Green Arrow. Where once she had possessed nails, now they were vicious claws that sliced through Green Arrow's suit and left deep gashes. He stumbled back with a pained cry, and then Mia was chomping down on his shoulder, rows of jagged teeth digging and sawing their way through cloth and skin to feast on the warm flesh beneath.

He screamed in pain as he furiously beat at Mia, but she dug her fangs in deeper as her claws slashed at his throat. Desperately, he reached into his quiver and grabbed an electric arrow, then rammed it straight into Mia's side. And as he body was pumped full of voltages, she finally relinquished her grip on his shoulder with a bloodcurling scream. This time, Green Arrow did not hesitate as he drove a knee into her stomach, knocking her far enough back to deliver a kick straight to the head that sent her flat on her back.

"Dammit!" he cursed as he stumbled back, clutching at his ruined shoulder. A quick glance revealed that it was a mess of bloodied and shredded meat, leaving his arm hanging by his side as nothing more than dead weight.

"Fucking hurts, doesn't it?" Mia gloated, already back on her feet and looking no worse for wear despite the blood dripping out of her mouth.

"Why are you doing this? Why kill innocents?" he demanded to know as he slowly began inching around her, trying to get into a better position.

"To hurt you, what else? You threw me aside for Sportsmaster's bitch of a daughter, so I'll destroy everything you care about," she spat at him, visibly tensing up as if ready to leap at him again like a wild animal.

"So that's it? That's all there is to it? Petty revenge?" Green Arrow looked downright disgusted at that point.

Mia outright growled at him. "Don't you dare belittle me! You ruined me! Tricked me! Stole my life! Made me dance to your tune and then discarded me once I was no longer useful to you!" by the end, her voice had devolved into barely coherent screeching.

"Tricked you? I told you from the start that I did not want you getting mixed up in this life! I wanted you to have a normal, happy life!" anger was now creeping into Green Arrow's voice as he glared at Mia. But that only seemed to provoke her even further.

"Lies! Lies lies lies lies lies lies LIES! You lie and deceive all the time! You were never honest with me, you always lied to me!" she ranted and raved, spittle flying out of her mouth with every word spoken.

"Then tell me what I did. Tell me what I lied to you about," Green Arrow demanded of her. No answer came in return. She would open her mouth as if to start a tirade, then close it just as quickly as if she could not remember what she was about to say. And no matter what she had done, Green Arrow felt a swell of pity as she watched her visibly struggle to say anything.

"You can't, can you? I made many mistakes, and I regret every single one of them. But I never lied or tricked you," again, that only further provoked Mia, who was now constantly twitching erratically as if competing mindsets were trying to influence her body.

"No, no! This is just another one of your tricks! Another lie! You just want to hurt me even more, just like everyone else! But I won't let you, I won't let you play me like a fucking fiddle! I'm stronger than you now, stronger than everyone! I don't need you anymore, so you can't trick me anymore!" any sense of cohesion or sanity was now gone from her words, just the ramblings of an insane mind. And something within Green Arrow broke at the sight.

"What did they do to you, Mia?" he could not help but ask. That proved to be the final straw, as Mia leaped at him with a furious screech. But Green Arrow was ready, sidestepping her lunge and giving the back of her head a whack with his bow. But Mia just spun around with a slash aimed at his face, forcing him back. Then she had a knife in the other, and struck at his bow. Instincts made him block, realizing too late that she was aiming for the bowstring.

The knife cut right through it with barely any resistance and kept going towards the arm. It hit naught but empty air as Green Arrow twisted aside, his leg coming up to strike at Mia's. She stumbled, but did not fall as she thrust the knife at Green Arrow with a vicious snarl. The thrust was sidestepped, then a slash was dodged and a lunge with her clawed hand was evaded. Then Green Arrow's bow came around to smack her in the side, but she gave no reaction to even having felt it and lunged at him with the knife again.

Too late did she see how overextended her lunge had been, and there was nothing she could do but watch as Green Arrow's bow came down with all its force on her wrist. There was a flare of pain, her hand ceased obeying her, and the knife fell out of numb fingers. She screamed as it felt like her whole wrist was on fire, but still managed to dodge the swing coming for her head again. Then, the two combatants broke off and created some space between each other.

"Give it up, Mia, you can't win here," Green Arrow tried to sound strong, but could not hide his wince or the way he momentarily wobbled. By now, most of his left side was soaked in blood. Mia saw this, and she smiled.

"Getting tired in your old age? Or is the bloodloss getting to you?" she taunted, bloodstained teeth displayed in a cruel smile.

"Still got some fight left in me here," Green Arrow countered, his grip on his battered bow tightening.

"Then allow me to-" and then there were three arrows embedded in the floor around Mia, each of them beeping rapidly. She only had enough time to widen her eyes in shock before, with a final beep, all three arrows exploded, ripping the floor beneath her apart and sending her tumbling down with a very surprised scream.

"Oliver!" someone shouted as they came running over to the emerald archer. It took him a moment to recognize the individual.

"Roy?" the red on his suit was all but covered by soot and ash, and there was a nasty gash across his forehead that left most of his face covered in caked blood. But there was no mistaking the young man.

"Yeah, it's me. Got sloppy and wandered straight into a trap. It was sheer dumb luck that I made it out of there alive," Red Arrow answered. Green Arrow gave a relieved nod and took a step forward, only to almost fall over as his vision started spinning.

"Whoa, hold on there!" Red Arrow was instantly at his side, slinging Green Arrow's uninjured arm over his shoulder. "You're hardly in the best condition to fight right now. We need to get you some medical attention stat,"

"But Mia, we can't let her…" Green Arrow's protest trailed off as he looked at the hole she had fallen through. Recognition flashed through Red Arrow's eyes, then he shot a venomous look at the same hole before addressing Green Arrow again.

"We're in no condition to pursue her right now. We need to fall back and regroup," he stated. For a moment, Green Arrow looked torn as he his eyes flickered between his former protégé and the hole. Finally, hesitantly, he gave a slow nod.

"Yes, you're right. Let's go," then, the two of them made their way back the way they came.


Nighttime had fallen over Los Angeles, and Krieg was on the hunt once more. Fighting in the suburbs had been fierce, and the heretics had fought for every inch of ground. But in the end, without heavy firepower or a unified command structure, their defiance had been as pointless as it had been brutal, and now all that was left was mopping up what few stragglers still lingered within city limits. Which was what had brought Krieg all the way to Bel Air, observing a dozen or so terrified cultists huddled inside one of the houses.

"Targets acquired," Krieg quietly reported through the radio.

"Copy that. Do you require support?"

"Negative, I can deal with these ones on my own. Focus your efforts on other holdouts," then he disconnected, drew his knife, and made ready to attack. Suddenly, his instincts warned him of danger from behind, so he spun around with a stab, aiming to bury the knife into the skull of whoever was behind him. A slender hand caught his arm by the wrist and gave it a twist until he released the knife with a grunt.

His other fist came in for a blow, but it too was caught, and then felt himself fly through the air as he was thrown over his attacker's shoulder. The feeling of weightlessness barely lasted a second before his back slammed into the ground. He tried standing back up again, but a boot came down on his chest and kept him pinned in place, right before he found a sword pointed right at his face.

"Hey there, soldier boy. Long time no see," an achingly familiar and deeply despised voice commented cheerily from above.

"Ravager, I should have known you would side with the filthy heretics," he growled at her as his unharmed hand began creeping towards his holstered pistol.

"Me? Working with those freaks? Hate to break it to you, but I'm not that kind of girl," Ravager retorted, smiling at him like he had just told a funny joke.

"Then why are you here?" Krieg continued, trying to keep her focus on his mask as his hand gripped the pistol.

"Well, first off," just as he drew his pistol, Ravager's sword struck and sent it flying out of his hand. "Our old base got overrun by these loonies, so we needed somewhere else to crash for a time. Secondly, we're both familiar with you, so we figured we might as well pop in and say hi,"

One word in her explanation did not sit well with Krieg. "We?"

"Indeed," another voice joined in, right before its owner stepped into his line of sight to reveal yet another despised figure. "Ravager, please let the boy stand up again. We're not here to pick a fight with him, after all,"

"Yeah, yeah," with a few more quiet grumbles, Ravager stepped away from him. Krieg was instantly rolling aside and scooping up his dropped knife before rising into a crouched fighting stance. He found two guns pointed squarely at him in return.

"Easy there, we did not come for a fight with you. We came here with a partnership offer," Deathstroke explained, voice completely casual even as he had Krieg in his sight.

"A partnership? Why?" Krieg questioned, glaring at the both of them with suspicion.

"These lunatics are as much of a threat to us as they are to you, and we want them dead just as much as you," Deathstroke calmly explained. Krieg refused to budge so much as an inch from his stance.

"Still does not answer why I should fight with you," he retorted.

"Ever heard the expression 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" Deathstroke questioned.

"Wise words, except that you are my enemy as well," Krieg countered. He got the distinct feeling that Deathstroke was arching a brow at him from behind that mask of his.

"Are we truly?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. Krieg suspected a trap of some sort in those words, but answered nonetheless.

"Yes. You are a criminal, committing illegal acts to serve your own ends. It is my duty to eradicate filth like you," he stated with finality. But apparently not enough finality, as Deathstroke merely chuckled at him.

"You really have no idea of what goes on behind the scenes. If you'd only seen half the things I have, you'd realize that I'm not a criminal, but a necessity in this world," for some strange reason, Krieg got this feeling of bitterness from Deathstroke when he said that. "But that's beside the point here. We're not truly enemies, merely soldiers on opposite sides of a line drawn in shifting sands. In this world, allegiances constantly shift, making today's enemies tomorrow's allies. We have no need to fight each other today, not when we have bigger threats to deal with,"

Krieg still refused to move from his crouched stance. "It does not change the facts here. You are a criminal, and it is my duty to stop criminals,"

That brought out a tired sigh from Deathstroke. "Stubborn little brat, aren't you? Very well, let me propose things in this way instead. We are both under threat from a common enemy, so let us agree to a temporary truce until the matter is solved. We work together to defeat this invasion, and then its business as usual between us,"

Krieg still remained in his stance, but did not speak up right away as he mulled Deathstroke's words over. He should decline the offer, he really should. Never give ground to the enemy, never compromise with them. Except that's what you've been doing for the last few months. And that traitorous thought would not leave him be once it had manifested. War was upon them, and they needed every able-bodied soldier they could scrounge up. But was that worth working with criminals?

"Or if you prefer, we can all fight each other and see which side emerges alive," Deathstroke added after a while, but Krieg remained silent. Criminals were to be abhorred and killed on sight, not be embraced as friends. Just like mutants and xenos. And again the reminder of his willful shame came back, and he gritted his teeth behind his mask.

"Chaos," Krieg slowly began, momentarily halting as he gathered his thoughts. "Chaos is the true enemy here, the one that will consume all if not halted," carefully, and very hesitantly, Krieg straightened back up from his stance. "We fight together to destroy this enemy. After that, we shall have a reckoning,"

Despite wearing a mask, Krieg could still tell that Deathstroke was smiling at him. "Good enough, I suppose," then he lowered his own guns. "Well, shall we get started? Nothing like some real combat to build camaraderie if you ask me,"

Krieg loudly growled at him. "Do not push your luck,"

"Gee, someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side today," Ravager drawled as she came to stand next to him and threw an arm around his shoulders. Krieg roughly pushed her aside.

"Do not get in my way," he spat at the both of them before storming towards the cultist hideout.

"Love you too, cutie," Ravager cheekily commented as she easily kept pace with him. Deathstroke for his part took up the rear with a resigned shake of his head.

"Children these days," he lamented to himself.