Imperial City of Apothos

[Dracorion]

Away from the palace, in the station house for the main police prescence in the city, an impatient Captain Strodem strummed his fingers on the top of his hardwood desk. Officer Starks had requested a meeting, and now, the man was several minutes late. It was odd, especially since most of the other personell had gone home. He heard a creak outside his office, followed by the slow trodding step that he recognized as the old Officer Starks. He sighed, sitting back in his chair. The door pushed open, and in walked Starks with a slight smile. Strodem frowned at the old man, leaning forward on his desk.

"Starks. Gonna take an awful lot of explaining as to why im here and not at home with my wife."

Starks said nothing, but instead walked into the office. With each step Strodem became more and more impatient. Standing up, he placed both hands flat on his desk, his voice showing his anger.

"Now see here Starks, you had better start talking or youll find yourself-"

Whatever Starks might find himself, the world would never know as a razor thin, near invisible blade sliced across the Captains throat. There was an explosion of arterial blood, though all of it seemed to stop in midair, none of it touching his uniform. Starks slowly smiled at the look of surprise on Strodem's face.

"Sorry about that...poor old man, but Im afraid your wife wont be seeing anyone any more. And for that matter...neither will you."

WIth the sound of cracking bone and shifting flesh, Nym took on the appearance of the dying Captain. Careful not to let any of the blood stain the uniform, he quickly changed into the new disguise, discarding the old uniform. In the doorwat stood a shadowed figure, though the voice was all to familiar.

"Good...next time though, try to be a little cleaner."

Ragnarok walked into the room, poking the naked corpse, incinerating it in a flash.

"Alright Nym...you know what to do. Next step is Councilman Tilden. He has access to the main commander of the armed defense forces for the city. Once you take him, remember to distribute the target information, and be sure...I mean, absolutely sure that none of the information ever gets back to the royals for matters of...National Security. emember though...screw this up, and I will have your hide."

Nym smiled knowingly, nodding to his boss as Ragnarok escaped into the darkened reccesses of the office.  

[SkyeGear]

"Big stick on three," Gear said as he got the needle ready for insertion in the back of her hand. "One...two...three." He inserted the needle and got the flash, inserting the catheter as he removed the needle. He connected the line to the IV bag he'd teleported there from the base and began to run it slowly, about ten drops a minute, not wanting to overload the Sergeant's system.  

[Dracorion]

Miles away, a sleek black private jet roared through the lower atmosphere, headed toward the Imperial city. Its wings cut through the air, headed straight toward the capitol. In the pilots seat was a wizened old man, leaning back in his chair with a grunt. The autopilot was taking care of business for now, so he looked back at the young gentleman, nodding to the warrior.

"Alright back there? We should be in the city in about a day. Hope your ready, cause what Ive seen of that little freak...and if you aint on the top of your game, hes gonna fry you like a peice of toast."

Drake looked up, nodding to the old man with a deadly serious look.

"Dont worry old timer...Im ready."

With a smirk, he nodded, then turned back to the controls. The jet continued on its way, sweeping through the atmosphere toward their destination.  

[Schattenengel]

The gunny did not wince as Gear drove the intravenous tube into her hand and laid quite still, apparently content breathing and regaining her strength. By now she was fully conscious and seemed for several minutes content to lay still with her eyes closed, breathing less desperate in the mask. Then her eyes opened, slightly out of focus, and she pulled the IV from her hand. Sitting up, she pressed her jittery, shaking right hand firmly to the back of her head where she had hit it on the chair and glared at Gear. Then, wondering what she had missed, she quickly scanned the area, quicksilver eyes finally falling on her CO, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.  

[SkyeGear]

"Uh-oh," Gear said as he watched the Sergeant come to terms. He clamped the IV line to stop the flow. "It's ah-liiive," he said in sing-song tone as she glared before looking around, apparently confused. He had to wonder about her mental orientation, but she seemed in no mood to be asked questions about who she was and what day of the week it was.  

[Dracorion]

Deep in the city, several air defence radar stations sat ready, their operators alert for any new incoming signals. One of the stations radar readout suddenly began to blip as a red dot entered the range of their sensors. They quickly reported the contact to their supervisor, who passed it on to the commander of the wach for the city. They began to recieve signals and communications from the unknown contact, stating that it was a private jet carrying a General Drake LeGarax from the Mercenary League. Instantly, red flags began to go up as recently updated watch lists listed Drake LeGarax as a known terrorist and deadly assassin. Combat units under the direct command of the Watch Commander, at least two regiment strength units, armed with riot gear and the latest in combat gear went on instant readiness, already moving to the airport. In his office, The Commander of the Watch chuckled softly as his face momentarily flickered, the visage of a skelatal thin figure revealed for the briefest of moments. Nym's plan was all coming together.
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High above the city, Drake's old friend began their approach vector, having received clearance to land and the welcome of the city. According to the air traffic control center, the Princess and members of the Mercenary League already present had been alerted and were en route to meet him. So far, everything was going well, exactly as one could hope it would. Drake slowly reached out through the haze of minds until he found the one he was looking for, smiling softly as his thoughts gently brushed against V's. It was agitated...something wasnt right, but it was nothing life threatening, so he would deal with it when he landed. He was pulling back when he felt it. It was a simple burst of thought, nothing understandable or interpretable...but familiar. Something was definately wrong, and he had a bad feeling that when they landed, they wouldnt be receiving the greeting he was expecting. He let his friend know, then braced for the worst as they began their descent toward whatever awaited them below.  

[SkyeGear]

Gear's face monitor flashed with a message.

Alert: Highband armed surveillance aircraft approaching. Determining identification now...stand by.

Something was coming in for a landing nearby? Would would be coming here at a time like--

Craft identified. General Drake LeGarax approaching, ETA 2 minutes.

Lovely, Gear thought. Like we didn't have enough problems without throwing General Drake into the mix. The more people show up, the harder this situation is going to be to control. Gear's nerves were on edge as the craft grew closer to their position.  

[Dracorion]

As the plane finally coasted to a stop on the run way, Drake put a comforting hand on the older mans shoulder. No words were exchanged however, as the troops from the loylist regiments began to move and surround the plane. Drake pushed down the ramp of the plane, stepping out onto the tarmac into the barells of several hundred weapons aimed directly at him. Armed with lasrifles, automatic weapons, power swords, shock mauls and other weapons, they were a formidle force indeed, and as far as they knew, they were looking at a murderous criminal who was there to slaughter everyone they held dear. Behind him, the planes hatch quickly closed as a mass reactive coating sloughed down over it. If there was going to be any fighting, the plane and its sole elderly occupant would remain unharmed by all but the most devestating of blows. Drakes hands were raised in an expression of surrender and peace.

"Alright people, lets take it easy now. Theres no need for violence here. There has obviously been some sort of mistake. My name is General Drake LeGarax of the Mercenary League. Im here to meet with the royal family in relation to a dangerous assassin threatening them all."

Apparently, those were the wrong words. All at once, they opened fore, pouring hot bolts of destructive energy into the lone warrior, as well as a hail of bullets that crashed into him. In moments, the entire area where his shredded corpse should be was engulfed in smoke, but still they kept firing until their clips ran dry. The energy discharge was so massive that electronic devices for at least a mile around flickered and jumped at the enormous surge. When it was over, they slowly slung their rifles, many of the soldiers giddy from the adreneline rush, feeling that they were the conquering heroes that had succesfully defended their homes from such a dangerous terrorrist. It was this that caused them to miss the shadowed, smoke obscured figure that slowly rose to his feet, and even when the first soldier when flying over the others with a resounding crack as his jaw snapped, they still were slow to catch up on what was happening. Flames roared around the young warrior as he cracked his knuckles, eyes flashing with anger.

"Fair enough. My turn."

The heat bloom could be seen from a mile away.  

[SkyeGear]

Gear's jetblades hadn't been fast enough to get him there in time. "Drake..." he groaned as he saw the massive explosion of flame. He picked up speed and continued forward, hoping to avoid any further violence. "General LeGarax!" he called out, his voice amplified by his helmet. He wasn't sure what he had originally intended to say next, but he was pissed he couldn't get there in time with a force field. He was hoping to cut down on the amount of violence that was causing the entire empire to tear itself apart, but no luck thus far...  

[Dracorion]

Drake took a step back, narrowly dodging a downward slashing power sword that would have torn him in half. He countered with a slash of deadly psychic force, severing the connecting nerves between the arm and body of the attacker, grimacing as he screamed and the sword dropped from his nerveless fingers. He didnt want to kill any of them, since it would probably just cause more problems than he was willing to deal with. Every movement was coordinated, every strike precise. He broke bones, shattered weapons, and sent soldiers flying across the tarmac. There were so many of them...every move he made, he was slamming into yet another body. He was one of the best soldiers the Mercenary League had, but even this...he silently cursed himself once more for his foolishness. Ragnarok and his damn scrawny little sidekick Nym had beat him here, and had set up a trap, and he had walked right into it. Turning back to the situation at hand, he gripped the barell of a lasrifle, melting it in his hand as he yanked on it and sent the soldier flying off above the crowd.


Inside the palace, a lone guard walked toward a side door in the kitchen, whisteling a merry little tune to himself. Behind him lay a kitchen full of dead servants, recently murdered by his microthin blades. He pulled open the door with a loud creak, bowing deep as his master, the assassin known as Ragnarok entered the palace.

"Very good Nym...with Apocolypse distracted for the time being, we must make our move now."

Nym frowned as his face maintained the look of the palace guard.

"Wait...distracted master? But surely...I sent two regiments after him! Armed to the teeth! He must be dead!"

Ragnarok spun, gripping Nym by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

"Dont be stupid. They are ordinary humans, and no matter how well their armed, theyll never be able to stand against him. Now stop asking stupid questions and get in there. I'll distract the rest of the guard while you kill her. Now lets go."

He smiled, releasing Nym and walking out the door into the palace main while his servant followed close behind, ready to do their evil deeds.  

[SkyeGear]

"This has gone on long enough," Gear said, a massive force wall going up between Drake and his attackers. "I think General LeGarax has had enough. It's my turn now." From his robotic backpack extended thirty different sharp implements, some moving on their own, some not. Scissors, knives, drills, screwdrivers, anything that could pierce was out in the open now, aimed towards the crowd. Each implement, in addition, sparked with high voltage electricity. "I'll let you guys back off and run away for now before I start hurting people." He waited a moment to see if his attempt to scare them had worked.  

[Dracorion]

Though grateful for the breather, Drake resisted the urge to sit back and take even a moment to relax. He tore his ruined cloak off, revealing the black and red combat suit underneath.

"Gear! We have no time for this. Listen, you can get there faster than I can. Get back to the palace. Theres two assassins in the palace right now with the intent of murdering the princess and the entire royal family! I'll deal with this. Let no one near them, not even guards. One is a shapeshifter and can look like anyone! You get over there NOW!"

Drake leapt through the barrier, smashing his way through armored barriers and quickly retreating soldiers. They were only now realizing that their had been a terrible mistake and feared for their lives. This isnt what they had been instructed to do, and they werent prepared for not one, but two heavily armored professional soldiers. They were thrown aside like ragdolls as he charged through them, intent on reaching the palace as soon as possible.  

[Schattenengel]

While leaning back, the gunny gestured with one jittery hand for her CO to come closer to her. With the mask over her face and her voice low it was exceptionally difficult to hear her unless one placed one’s ear very close to that pale face highlighted with a light sheen of sweat across her forehead.

“Ma’am – forgive me – it seems that I ruined your plans here.”

She paused for a second as if to catch her breath before continuing in a voice that shook slightly, a merest indication that V was not at all in control of herself.

“I can’t function with an O2 tank strapped to me, ma’am. That chemical Gear gave me is making me sick. I need-”

She broke off, lowering her voice further and closing her eyes, as if loathe to admit any inherent biological weakness.

“I need to get back in control.”

Though the statement was quite a general one, it was quite obvious to anyone who had read the retired Marine’s medical files that she needed about three pots of strong coffee and an hour or two to stabilize her internal chemical composition and stock up on whatever enzyme it was that allowed her to remain autonomously functioning.
 

[Dracorion]

Ragnarok made his way down one of the main halls of the palace, smiling as the guards stationed along it finally taking notice of him. There was no warning given as they charged him, swords and halberds flashing toward him, lethal strikes intending to kill instantly. He dodged a downward slash, grunting softly as he drove his index and middle finger deep into the mans sternum, incinerating him instantly from the inside out. He spun on his heel, delivering another brutal immolating strike to the mans throught. It was a dance of death as he weaved his way between guards, slashing and murdering with his bare hands alone. His attacks werent brutal or crushing like so many other warriors, but refined, wasting as little effort as possible while inflicting the most amount of damage. The battle, if it could be called that, was over in the span of five seconds, and all that was left were clothes, gleaming weapons, and quickly scattering piles of dust.

From the other side of the palace, Nym made his way to the throne room, slowly slipping into the main chamber. There she was...such a pathetic sight she was, lying there on the floor. While he didnt know why she was down, he didnt quite care either. She looked weakened, and that was only a plus for him. He slowly slid one of his knives down his sleeve until the tip rested gently on his forefinger. Not yet....but soon. He would wait for Ragnarok's signal...then, he would strike. But for now, he was a simple, ordinary guard in the throne room.  

[SkyeGear]

Gear flew back into the palace, running biological scans on each member of the Royal Family and the Mercenary League. He put up a force field barrier around all of them, not even permitting guards and attendants access. "We have a situation. There are two assassins in the building, and at least one is a shapeshifter. They allegedly intend to murder the royal family. This situation is critical and will now be handled by the Mercenary League." Gear looked around, his eyes focusing on the caffeine-deprived officer. "Time to suck it up, Captain," he said, looking around. "Worry about your health later. It looks like the royal family, to include Adaire, and possibly you to the more uninformed, are in danger of assassination. We need to investigate and locate the infiltrators. Snap out of it and let's get moving." He usually wasn't this mean...unemotional perhaps, but not mean. But this was serious.