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*Cracking her head to either side, ROan did not immediately shoot up the hole she had created.

It was time to wake up properly. She was hurt, so was Iden. In ways that went beyond the mere physical. But to continue on as she was, she;d inevitably get one of them killed. What was in her head was not war, not vengeance, but only hate. It woudl destroy her as she in turn destroyed all around her. And that would not do.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and forced her mind into line. Hate turned back to anger, and the heat of it roared through her. Anger was something she could use. It was old, familiar, and in essence what she WAS. What had occurred here was no worse than her young life as Kindred. And the results on those who had dared opress her would be just the same.
The wings on her back vanished, which was good for her, and oh so bad for teh enemy. She looked more normal, but was now even more dangerous.

Iden was passed into the unseen arms she bore, his form curled up ito the foetal position for protection as she walked to the wall under the gaping hole that led up. Pressing her flesh fingers to the metal of the wall, she smiled softly behind the helm... then dug them into the metal like it was tissue and started to climb.

Hand over hand, she rose like the devil she was, climbing steadily, eye turned upwards.
Soon enough, she saw armed units ringing the hole on the two levels she'd cut through. Bullets whizzed around her head, but as ever not one connected. Instead, the metal seemed to be gathering BEHIND her, for purposes unknown. The red of her eye glowed as she snarled, the sound made awful by the confining metal around her mouth, hissing out the hole shot into it, and drawing gaze to her eye by the unwary. Men fell around her, dropping their guns to join the mess of metal behind her.
Reaching the first of the floors above, she grinned, clinging easily to teh wall just below the lip.

The metal she'd collected to her started to scream in tortured agony as it warped and split, shredding and combining until... long lines of razor wire flowed around her like hissing snakes. Digging into the walls, using the metal from there to only EXTEND themselves, the deadly vines then bore the dark devil responsible for them upwards, each piece guided by her to skewer those left alive on the two floors who still tried to fight her.
Gore and blood splattered the wall, the floor, rained down the hole in the floor as the vines did to these men what it had felt like had been done to her and Iden. Barbed tips enetered bodies wherever orifices could be found, tore through internal organs, ripped and raped until they emerged from eyes, noses, stomachs, ears, shredding entire bodies to mere gibblets as she continued to move up.

She eventually stepped back onto solid ground on floor nine. The living quaters. The metal around her died down, adhered in portions to Thane's armour, tipping the plating.
Iden was still held wrapped in the arms off her back, safe from all harm, leaving her to use her OWN hands to commit the massacre to follow.
There was no mercy.
Doors exploded open at her passing. Women, children, men, all screamed and begged and pissed and moaned as she came upon them punishing all without discrimination. Kitchen knives flew around some houses, in others, people were strangled by their own clothing. Lights exploded and rained glass on the bodies, blood flowing like veins out of every room, forming a strong channel down the central hallway, which led to the Matriarch herself, soaking into her skin between the armour she now wore.

In time, she came to Bane's quaters. Stopping dead outside the door, knowing the scent, she rolled her head around to look at it.*

I do not want just your poor and hungry, your tired and sick, Hellbane. I want your corruption and your evil. With every step, I will hunt you down.

*Then she continued on, knowing the rooms were empty. Ahead, the elevator shaft up to the upper levels. Her next stop, Level 8, Infection control. No level would be left unvisited.*

*Level Seven was broken into easy enough. There seemed to be little to no resistance awaiting her. Her litany over, for now at least, the climbing beast entered the level intially tense and exppecting trouble... only to find instead a terrible kind of silence.
NOTHING moved. Nothing stirred. No noise save the background hum of power. Something wasnt right.
Sliding into the room, Roan immediately went left, behind the wall of the first of the 50 sound proof cells. There, she gently settled Iden across her lap, stroking the poor boy's forehead and murmuring soothingly to his still unresponsive form. Some part of her wished he'd wake, to see the people who had DARED do this to him die, and thus know he was never again going to be hurt by them... but another part of her knew he was beyond even this. That the nightmares WOULDNT stop, even with the death of the responsible. That death wasnt going to be the end.

Anger surged in her chest once more. Quills of metal rattled against the bone armour she wore, but she forced them still. Forced herself quiet. A rampage wouldnt help Iden. She knew that. SOmewhere inside the seething mess of her head.
The helm was beginning to seriously annoy her. It was all that was still preventing her from LEVELLING the place in one smooth move. That aside though, the helm wasnt stopping her form sensing. And yet she STILL wasnt hearing anything. Not right. Time to investigate.

Standing up slowly, she set Iden against the wall and wrapped him in the protective embrace of the metal off her armour, leaving Mucalinda to guard him while she, looking no more than human in an oversized helm, walked off between the rows of rooms.
It took her a full ten minutes to realise the people inside each one, on the slabs, was still alive. And alive was the correct word, for 20 of them were human. 20 of them were the security detail form the level, screaming as loud as the other 35 non-human units pinned down by their brethren, cut apart in each room by the remaining scientists, who worked as if in a fever. Yet Roan could hear none of it. Every room was soundproof, leaving her to dispassionately watch from outside as the awful acts continued in absolute serene quiet.

Strange, but those COMMITTING the acts seemed more frightened than those dying under their blades. Each scientist, working at top speed, acted as if something behind him was about to bite him in two if he did a single thing wrong, dared to slow down. All were oblivious to her. And then she heard the faint, tiny scratching noise nearby. Slowly, she turned her head until her one visible eye was focused on the source*

Industry. Endeavour. Science. Discovery.
Do please come have a seat and bear with me a minute, I MUST write this down befpre my inevitable and messy death. You have time. Seat yourself.

*A scruffy man in a labcoat sat writing away furiously with a quill and ink on vellum, never looking up at her. She recognised him. Robert Hooke, head of the level. And one of her tormentors. PERSONALLY. Without thiking, she raised her arm up towards him, sword in hand, until the tip rested under his chin*

Corrupt and filthy. It is over, old man.

Really, must you be so precocious even now? To kill me immediately would negate your own interests and Ive been writing as fast as I can since you woke up. You would do well to let me finish.

I was never asleep. I felt it all. I endured it all.

I didnt say you were asleep. I said you woke up. Now sit down and be silent for a minute while I collate the last of this for you.

For me?

*Confusion. The first in a while. She wanted him dead. That was certainty. Confusion had no place, but...*

Yes. One assumes you will wish to bear at least some of the fruit of this to your own diabolical little scientist back home, especially if you wish to save the town Bane is attacking as we speak. Otherwise, all this death is in vain. Oh, dont get me wrong, Max is good, but he is inhuman himself in all the ways that count. And he thinks he's the only one who can use Hellbane. Bah. I have seen what his monster virus can do. Heh... Ive even seen the Diabolis. Ah, I see this suprises you. Well, sense it does anyway. That mask does not suit you, but times are what they are. Yes, Ive seen the Diabolis. Unstable as it is. Designed for one thing, one person really, one blood line. As much a poison as a cure.

*The man wrote furiously as he wrote, the scritching of the pen adding to the atmosphere as Roan reluctantly sat, listened*

Destruction! This is what man weilds. What he is. And the peak of that is Kindred, Cainites, BEASTS. But always there is a bigger predator. You cannot vaccinate against the Bane virus, for it IS a man. You cannot BEAT the Bane virus, for it IS an intangiable virus. He, IT, is a thing that simply IS. You cannot get ahead, you can only keep up. Work fast. Faster. Endeavour, industry, discovery. the devil does indeed make work for idle hands. Here.

*Suddenly, the writings stopped and Hooke bundled them up with silvered string in a roll, passing the papers to Roan. Then he reached into a pocket and produced one more*

This is on the man Thanus. What WAs a man. I do not know what to suggest to you, but these are the facts, and the raw data. Make of it what you will.

Why would you do this? Why cut me to pieces day after day, then help me. Do you honestly think I'll spare you?

Of course not! I'd be quite upset if you did. I did not spend the last however many DECADES, centuries even!, its been to just have my research evaporate in an acrid plume of smoke! You will find use for it. Or more, your leashed time bomb will. He is built to destroy, but you know this. Give it to him, and let him find use in my life's work.

I'd destroy it all to spite... if it were not for Bane's continued existance. Know that if I find him... he WILL die.. and your notes will burn atop his body.

As you will, but you will find the Virus harder to eradicate than that. Now, let an old man have his feet. I'll at least die with digni....huggghh!!!

*Roan;s sword plunged through his shoulder, pinning him to the chair behidn the conferance table as she cocked her head, standing back up*

No, you will die like the worm you are.

Though the blade groaned, protesting to the ignoble application of its sturdiness, it held strong in the hands of its new wielder.

What waited for Roan was a piece taken from a horror film. The walls were streaked with gore, and bodies lay in wait for her, already torn apart and left to rot on the tables and floors. Something had been released to do her work before she had taken the chance to...leaving the question remaining as to what such a creature was. The only trail was the streaked gore leading away along the floor, which all but glowed in the bright, medical lights.

Alive was perhaps not the best term to describe the morgue. So much death; the entire level reeked. No door was left closed, no chamber untouched by the malevolent carnage that had been wrought. Whatever had broken loose, it was on the warpath. Its presence was only made known by the dragging noise that echoed from the farthest reaches.

Roan would be greeted when she came upon the creature with a gruesome sight. In a room filled with mangled bits was seated a cluster of humanoid figures, each nearly naked and swathed in bandages. Each one bore claws and blades with which they mutilated the bodies they had surrounded themselves with; blindly they wove malice into the defiled remains upon which they had come to rest. Not a one seemed aware of the warmonger that stood before them.

Oblivious to her every movement, the creatures persisted in their defilement of the bodies. The entire staff of the floor was gathered here in some capacity; every worker that had been on the floor at the time of lockdown had been ruined in this room. What SHOULD have been noticed was that the lockdown hadn't stopped these things...given the excessive nature of Ishiimura's security, that should have been troubling.

But no, nothing. Until the one she approached slowly turned its head. The eyes were missing, replaced by bandages that wrapped its face, but it unmistakably was following her every movement as she prepared to strike it down. Slowly it let the limb it had been cutting fall aside, and straightened out to stare blindly at its executioner.

With a sick, meaty tearing noise, the creature's head fell to the floor, detached from its torso. There was no reaction from the others, nothing. The one beast simply sagged to its knees, oozing a foul black ichor from the stump of its neck.

But then, it stood once more. The bandaged thing returned to its feet, still staring at the armored female that had come to strike them down. Even without its head, one could still feel the things attention fallen upon the interloper in their morgue...

As she began to draw the steel to herself for the evisceration, the creature began to shudder. Its form quaked, growing more violent, making a grotesque sight of itself. Something was bulging from the fleshy stump of its neck, and pushing to rip free from the ruined flesh. Just before the strike, the stump burst in a gruesome mess as a new head ripped into the space where the old had occupied. Even as it did this, the old head had already dissolved into a disgusting slime upon the floor, which seeped and mingled with the gore that already soaked the room.

As the metal lashed forth, the creature whirled in an erratic sort of way, trying to fend the onslaught off; it failed, however...and miserably, at that. There was no stopping Roan's pulverization. It DID, however, gather the attention of the others...

They all moved in strange, erratic manners, much like marionettes who's strings were tangled. Limbs flapped about with a bizarre precision that seemed to be nothing more than utter chaos, yet conveyed the things with perfect poise. Some advanced on the killer, while others scattered. In truth, most seemed more keen on circling around and past Roan than actually engaging her...