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I hope that there was no foul play involved, but we can't rule out anything. Two people boarded the plane with stolen passports, so we're not sure if they could be involved with the disappearance of the plane yet. Just hoping they find something.
And now, a sneak peak at an upcoming character in Arc 4. . . .
Revy Two Hands
"Roll tape. Conducting interview one of one. State your name please."
She rolls her eyes and takes a heavy draw from a cigarette. "Revy. Revy Two Hands."
"Thank you Revy. Madam Revy, word on the 'streets' is that you're crazy. And I honestly believe you are," says the interviewer with a chuckle. Revy cracks a smile.
"Crazy? Nah, nah, nah. You got it all wrong. But if I was crazy," she said getting to her feet, threateningly pacing around the room.
"Madam, p-please be seated now. No need for hostili--"
"If I was really crazy I'd run up inside an orphanage, and torment kids, and beat baby's faces with bags of oranges. Fake my origin and tell people that I was born to sin. I'd go back to filming molested porn again. I would murder a b**** then steal her body from whatever morgue it's in and take it back to an ally to torture it. Study all of the Freddy Kreuger, Michael Myers, and Chucky horror flicks--"
"Revy, is that a knife you have in your hand!?"
"Of course it is! I'd run around crazy like the Afghans do, in some black camp boots, wearing a f***in' Batman suit. And scream at b****es like Fatman Scoop! And tell 'em to take a deep breath 'cause this'll be the last chance to! I'd hate everyone who was sane and gifted. Claim that my brain was missing, while sniffin' cocaine and cut my clit for the Pain Olympics. If I was crazy I would pick up this f***ing gun and use it. And tell Dutch outside to go and light the fuses! But--"
The building explodes and Revy is last seen leaving from the fifth story window.
Thing about rectifying the past is that you can't. These things take time, and only that flow of time will rectify said actions. That being said, what you do after you are shunned by an initial event that caused the former is what will speed up the flow of time in which it takes for your previous actions to be forgotten and forgiven. I would know, and so would many of those who posted here.
And while bullying is an issue, I have to come to terms with Daemon. It's immature, but the best way to get past it is to ignore those malicious "attacks". Unless they are direct, you'll usually be taking them out of context. That only adds fire to the flame and feeds the beast. When you feed the beast it breaks out of it's cage and grabs you by your wind pipe. When you get grabbed by your windpipe, you slowly pass out and become a victim of bestiality-monster-tentacle rape. Don't become a victim of bestiality-monster-tentacle rape. Get rid of cable, and upgrade to DirectTv.
I honestly could not imagine someone coming to my house and having the f***ing audacity to tell me they're taking what is essentially a member of my family on accounts of an "anonymous tip".
That's the reason this is fucked up the most. Some don't understand that, when you treasure that pet so much. When you love them the way you do, they are family. As far as I'm concerned, technical terms aside, this is cold murder. Take that bastard's job away and put him in a hole.
Over come with failure, and grief at his lack of being beneficial to his team, Black Dynamite fell into a slump. A deep, dark slump, that gripped his mind with fear. He had never felt this before, and it was nearly unbearable. Before anyone else noticed, Black Dynamite slipped away to the back of the ship, and hid inside the cargo bay. There was a crate large enough for him to hide behind, and so he did so, curling into a ball. His normally puffy afro fell flat and matted. His sleek skin was blurred by his emotional distraught, and his smile was hidden behind tears. No one could hear him over the sounds of the roar of the ship, and so he let out a scream. He screamed his lungs out, as loud as he could, and his terror only yelled back at him. He finally stopped screaming and gripped his head, rocking back and forth in a ball. He felt his sanity slipping away, as the metal box began to change shape before him. It went from a container of supplies, to an old, rickety rocking chair.
The chair creaked as it rocked back and forth. There was a pair of wrinkled old legs in the chair, and they were attached to his crazed grandmother. He followed the legs up to her face, and she was still as frightening as ever. "Grandmomma?" he said choking back more tears. Her eyes were missing, and he could only stare into the empty sockets that seemed to stare back. She nodded, as a crooked grin crossed her aging face. Grandmomma giggled, as she placed a hand on Black Dynamite's head.
"What's wrong boi? What got my grand-baby all messed up like dis?" She had a Cajun accent, and you could almost feel the intense liquor coming off of her breath as much as you could smell it.
"I can't do nothin' Grandma. Nothin'! I'm useless. Useless as yo old bones!" he sobbed.
She cackled this time, taking pleasure in Black Dynamite's pain. "Now you know Grandmomma got a recipe fo' all dat don't cha? You just gotta talk to the right people baby," she said wheezing.
"Whatchu mean Grandma? Talk to who?"
"Why, an ol' friend o' mine. He take heed from da Bayou ya know? Got voodu dat even yo' ol' grandma can't touch!" She laid a lot of emphasis on touch, and shrieked it into the air around Black Dynamite. Suddenly, the ship's cargo bay had vanished, and Black Dynamite had been swept up into a vortex of orange, red, and purple colors. They whirled around him extremely fast, making him sick, until the colors turned black and cut off most of his vision.
"Grandma? GRANDMA!" he cried out, bawling once more. He heard the rocking chair creak, and he felt her get up from her seat. She kneeled down and placed a slimy hand on his cheek, and a free finger over his lips.
"Shhhhhh! Shut that cryin'!" she said cackling again. "Now you just listen up. Call on' yo' grandma's friend. He go by the name of Papa. Papa Legba," she said, as the words echoed. He couldn't see her face, but he felt ice cold shivers come from his grandmother, and they ran down his back as she mentioned her friend. "He give you just what you lookin' fo' child."
"H-how do I call him? Ain't got no p-phone grandma."
"You don't need no phone baby. All you gotta do is repeat after me."
"O-o-okay grandma. I'll talk to uh, Mr. Leg--,"
"THAT'S PAPA! PAPA LEGBA!" she roared. He felt as though the very fabric of space around him was quaking as she screamed into the darkness.
"Papa Legba. Yes ma'am."
"Now repeat. Papa Legba, open the gate for me, Ago eh
Papa Legba, open the gate for me
Open the gate for me, Papa
For me to pass, when I return I will thank the Lwa!"
"Okay. Uh-uh, ehem. Papa Legba, open the gate for me, Ago eh
Papa Legba, open the gate for me
Open the gate for me, Papa
For me to pass, when I return I will thank the Lwa!"
His grandmother's hands slowly slipped off of his face, and the darkness began to brighten back to it's orange, red, and purple colors. He could see her again, her eye sockets right in his face. He jumped back in shock, and when he did, his grandmother crumbled to dust. Her ashes were picked up by an unknown wind, and they began to take shape. At last, a man stood in place of his grandmother's ashes. His face was covered in white paint. His eyes glowed a malicious red, and his long dreadlocks covered most of his head. He gave a wide smile, filled with wickedness. His teeth were rotting and yellow, and he wreaked of death. The top of his head was covered by a top hat, with strange magical symbols, and skulls of the dead around it's brim. His suit was covered in ash, and every step he took towards Black Dynamite made the old hero cower.
"Ahhh," he said with a heavy Cajun accent. "It's been a long time since anyone had to look for ol' Papa," he said staring into Black Dynamite's soul (literally).
"I am. I am de one your dear grandmother told you about. I am Papa Legba."
"But you--you look--"
"Old? Da's because I am old. I'm very old Black Dynamite. Now come de usual questions. How do I know your name? Where did I come from? What can I do for you?" he said proceeding without giving Dynamite a chance to open his mouth. He had stopped across the void that Black Dynamite was in, but Black Dynamite blinked, and found himself staring Papa Legba right in the face. "Dat all comes down to a some easy answers my friend. Let's start wit' da most obvious one. You see, Black Dynamite," he said standing up straight now. "I have been here since, almost da very beginning. Shortly after Lucifer fell from grace, I was born. Before they gave it a name, I was here to take back da souls of de living. I am de gatekeeper, Black Dynamite. I am all things horror, and malice. I am what de children fear at bedtime. I am de boogie monster. I am death." he said with a gross smile. "But now is not de time for my back story. You called on me because you want someting' eh? Let's git down to business."
Black Dynamite was in a blur. His head was spinning along with this void, and no one had any idea where he was. If they were to look in the cargo bay, his physical body would not be present. Meanwhile, he finally worked up the courage to speak to the man he summoned.
"Tell me Black Dynamite. What exactly do you want from Papa?"
Black Dynamite gulped loudly. "To be useful."
"Too vague." Papa said almost immediately. "You can't just be useful Black Dynamite! You came to me because you want to do something much more for you. So what is it really?"
"It's just that. . . " Black Dynamite recalled being a coward on the battlefields, hiding behind others, ducking for cover, and only occasionally firing his pistols. "I've done everything I can but it's not enough!"
"So you want to do more? To give more? To be more?"
"Yes. I want-- dammit! I want to be someone the Corps can use! I want to be able to contribute! No matter what it takes. No matter what it costs."
Papa Legba smiled at this, and Black Dynamite felt it.
"Da's a big price to pay, Black Dynamite. Come on na'. Tell Papa whatchu really want."
"I want. . . . ," he sighed, and finally lifted his head. "I want to be remembered. Not as 'a useless bastard'. Look at what I'm up against. All these magical mothaf***a's with super special ass power and s***. Here I am tossin' round two magnums that prolly' can't get pass all their bullshit. Hell, even Foster got this big ass ship to do somethin' with! I wanna be remembered as a hero. I wanna be remembered."
Papa Legba licked his ashy lips. "So be it Black Dynamite."
"What? Whatchu mean so be it? That's it? You just grant my wish?"
"Don't be mistaken my friend," he said hanging his head, admiring his own getup. Lifting his head again, his red eyes pierced into Black Dynamite's soul again. "You will be useful to your friends, Black Dynamite, make no mistake. But you will pay me de same rate as everyone else."
"So I gi--"
"You give me your soul, Black Dynamite. And everyting else will fall into place."
There was a dead silence, as Black Dynamite stared at Papa Legba, his eyes wide, and his face as pale as this demon's. He straightened up, and offered Papa Legba a handshake.
"You got a deal. Don't need the damn thing anyway."
Papa Legba laughed darkly, shaking Black Dynamite's hand. Dynamite could feel the life being drained from him, and watch this power seep up Papa Legba's arm and into his body.
"Okay Black Dynamite. Your wish has been granted. But you will not see it's fill effect until de time is right. And to keep you from screwing dis up, I will have you remain here for the time being."
"Until what time?"
"Your friends are about to enter a very big battle. Dey will need your gift."
"When dey cross dat barrier to de udda side," he said moving his fingers upwards and pointing behind Black Dynamite.
"When they die!?"
"No, no, you bucket'a s***. When dey move to the final barrier in dis strange place. Dere, lies a foe for you all that cannot be defeated alone. And you are now the key to deir victory."
"So then, where am I?"
Papa Legba began to lean back, and the void stopped spinning. There was a smell of sulfur and ash, and the heat was intense. But around them were many bone cages, and each held a voluptous woman. "Dis will soon be your new home. My home," Papa said. He opened his arms as if to receive Black Dynamite, who looked around. The floor was solid stone, and there was a pool of molten lava beneath the bone cages. And behind Papa Legba, two people in chains, hidden in shadow, crawled towards Papa Legba's newly appearing chair, also made of bone and human remains. "Welcome. To your own personal hell."
The Inch of Will
Kratos looked around, and noticed Black Dynamite had slipped away. "Hmm? Where in blazes did he go? Black Dynamite? Has anyone seen Black Dynamite?" Kratos asked aloud.
What the hell is all this? Private prison camps? A buttload of coffins? It's a little creepy to me, but it could just be another typical-- nah who am I kidding. This that bullshit. Government got some 'splainin to do..
Everyone in that court room needs a foot in their face and their ass on concrete. Hot concrete. I am unbelievably furious after reading this. There should be a fucking RIOT after this. And I think I'm going to try Change.org for a petition as well. Because this, ladies and gentlemen. . .well this is:
EDIT: I overreacted I realize, but still this is pretty messed up.
His arms bleeding, Kratos smiled at last. There were no more distractions. He felt the power behind those swings that Radamanthys had, and prepared for a long fight. Saving greater measures for last, he embodied himself with the entire rage of his Spartan brothers, his body emitting a frightening red aura. The ground beneath himself and Radamanthys cracked at their footsteps, and Kratos made his move. He launched full speed at Radamanthys, taking most of the ground beneath his feet and behind him, with him. And above his head, higher in the air those same mountains Radamanthys had divided began to crumble behind Kratos, and their rubble barreled towards he and Radamanthys. Still he pressed on, catching the Judge by surprise. Kratos let loose a vicious flaming, ranged uppercut with his blades, and wrapping one single chain onto the Judge's right leg. His blades had been ignited with Spartan flames now, and burned more harshly than before, searing Radamanthys' leg badly. He whipped at Radamanthys' torso, but when his strikes could not break through the enemy's armor, he pulled himself in to the Judge. As he closed in, Kratos gained speed, and with the momentum from his boots and his blades, he drew the Spear of Destiny. It's tip gleamed, and Kratos attempted to run Radamanthys through in one swift strike. And if he failed? No time to think about that.
Kratos closed in, only two tricks left up his sleeve. But Radamanthys saw it coming, narrowly avoiding the swift strike. He whipped around and sent Kratos flying back to the ground. The rubble collapsed on top of the ash warrior, and it certainly seemed to be over. Seconds went by, and it felt like eons. But even with all of his Spartan warriors protecting him, he had to muster more strength to move the tens of thousands of tons of rocks on top of him now. Several beams of light pierced through the rubble, and the ceilings of the Underworld began to cry out in horror. The outside world was once again visible, and numerous strikes of lightning cracked at the Underworld's surface. When the ceilings finally opened enough, the heavens too opened up and the skies called all attention to Kratos' and Ramanthys' fight, with powerful rays of light that reached to the pits of the Underworld.
CANNONS SOUNDED AND KRATOS PICTURE FLASHED AGAINST A MAGIC FORCEFIELD. THE ODDS WERE NOT IN HIS FAVOR.
Kratos burst from the rubble, and stepped forward directly into a bolt of lightning. It struck his left hand first, and began to take shape. A sword, not unfamiliar, seethed with magic, and it's power leaked into the Underworld. Kratos pointed it at Radamanthys who was still hovering above the ground. "Let's end this." he said flatly.
Kratos expression went dark now, and he frowned. "Embarrassed? What reason could you have to be embarrassed, Radamanthys?" he said coldly. "You've no reason to be embarrassed, but many reasons to feel ashamed. So give me a reason why you would be embarrassed!" Kratos demanded. He didn't believe Radamanthys knew what embarrassment was.
Radamanthys gave Kratos a dirty look. "What would you know!? You have no sense of honor! I have served Lord Hades faithfully for eons! And. . . " Radamanthys stopped in his tracks, lowering his head. "I failed him. But I will not--!" Kratos held up a hand. His own Hades shot Kratos a dirty look as well, and interrupted immediately. "You should be embarrassed. As embarrassed as I am to be serving this imbecile. I once ruled the underworld! But minion after minion was slaughtered by a mindless brute who got away with destroying my home!" Hades began to grow, sapping power from around the Underworld. Twelve feet. Sixteen feet, and now he was twenty feet tall. Hades roared again, and began to pick at Kratos and Radamanthys. "Show me where it hurts. I will make it worse. You can't hold on Radamanthys! So join me. We are one and the same!"
Radamanthys stepped up to the foe Hades. "You're not like me! Your faceless lies."
Hades begged to differ. "Your weak, dead heart. Your black, dead eyes. I'll break you in! And let this die. Your hope is gone. And so is mine." Kratos stepped up at last to intercept Hades. A wave of rage rushed over Kratos as he passed through Hades. He began to be consumed by it, and stopped in his tracks, falling to his knees. He gripped at his head as painful memories came running back to him. Hades stopped his assault on Radamanthys to enjoy Kratos' suffering. "Yes boy. Let the hate consume you!"
Kratos could feel it. That anger and fear that destroyed his father. "I'm becoming a monster. . . just like you."
"After it all, you'll try to break me too."
The beating of Pandora, and her inevitable death.
"Yes Kratos. Fall! Keep falling forever! Chasing dreams! Zeus brought you to life, so I could hear you SCREAM!" Hades taunted. But Kratos fought. He ripped out of the hatred and bursted through Hades, taking chunks of his power from his soul, causing him to begin to shrink.
"Enough!" Kratos roared, whipping Hades' soul chains. He raised a heavy foot, imbued it with magic, and cracked the ground beneath them to form a magical ravine. Souls of the dead called from the ravine, grasping at the air. "Get back in the hole you came from!" Hades let out a painful screech, roaring as he began to be sucked back into his own Claws. After sealing away Hades, Kratos took a few steps forward and stared Radamanthys in the face. "The decision is yours. You feel embarrassed because you serve a self righteous god who has you doing his dirty work. You're embarrassed because your goals are not your own. You are slaving for nothing. I was under the same curse. And then I fought back. And I assume with this plague, the rest of your faction will soon break. Now whether you put your god aside and fight me with your own strength, or continue to be whipped as a weakling, is up to you. But know this, Radamanthys." Kratos' slowly became engulfed in the flames of his Blades of Chaos, starting at his feet. "Until you find your own resolve, you will never defeat someone like me. You're not embarrassed. You're trapped."
Taking several steps backwards, Kratos looked to the corrupted skies above him, where two other combatants were dueling. One of them came to Radamanthys' side, offering aid. The one Kratos assumed to be of Counter Corps, remained in watch, if only for a moment. He vanished, and when he reappeared he was drawing away the soul of the enemy Hades. Kratos waited patiently for Radamantys to respond to both himself and this lizard being that accompanied him.
They were joined by two more assailants, one each from the Counter Corps and Divine. Naturally, the Divine offered their help to their brethren, but it went unheeded.
Kratos spat blood from his lip onto the ground, and wiped his face, listening to Radamanthys' words.
". . . looks like the warm-up is over."
"Indeed." The air between the two combatants thickened with pressure, and their stares at each other spoke volumes. But their actions proved to be much louder. Kratos pressed forward with his winged boots, Nemeans Cestus readied.
Radamanthys finally responded to Gogiga, insulted by his remark. "Assistance? Do you have any idea who you're speaking with, you whelp? I need no assistance against scum."
"Do you honestly believe telegraphing your attacks will work!? Imbecile!" Radamanthys stated boldly. He met Kratos head on and received the Nemean Cestus right-hand punch with an open palm. Most of the blow was absrobed simply into his hand, but the pressure began to shake his grip as Kratos brought around his left. Radamanthys countered by throwing Kratos with all of his might into the air. He followed faster than last time, overflowing with energy as his fist was ignited with the fires of the Underworld. He roared loudly as he enclosed on Kratos, but was caught just off guard as Kratos raised his head back and narrowly avoided the punch. Then, out fo the corner of his eye, Radamnthys noticed a chain. It led down to the ground below, and was connected to the end of one of Kratos' blades.
"He changed so quickly. . .!"
Radamanthys was met with a slab of stone and metal as Kratos ripped a chunk of the planet from it's surface as he was lifted. Quickly recovering, Radamanthys flipped and kicked Kratos downwards into a spiral, and followed up with a special technique. Opening wide, hs mouth and jaws expanded almost like a snake's, as he cried out, "Wyvern κάνουμε!" A powerful wave of sound washed over Kratos and caused him to crash into the ground. The wave was so strong, that it prohibited Kratos' movement, pinning him to the ground. Ramanthys kept the pressure on, diving towards Kratos and closing in with his demonic roar. Kratos griped in pain, but mustered all of his strength to try and move. Radamanthys would not allow him to get up again, however. He pressed a heavy foot onto the warrior's left arm, to which Kratos grabbed Radamanthys' foot. Radamanthys chuckled, finally letting up, and moved his foot to Kratos's chest. "Pathetic!" he taunted. "You defeated Lord Hades!? Impossible! Not in my universe you couldn't. A worm like you couldn't get past me!"
Kratos finally laughed heartily, to which Radamanthys grew irritated. "What's so funny!?"
Kratos stopped laughing abruptly. "You've got a big mouth, to talk about worms. Did you crawl out of Hades' ass?"
Radamanthys expression went from sour to enraged, as he roared at Kratos again. But this time, Kratos right arm was free, his left still gripping Radamanthys' foot. As the soundwave continued, Kratos managed to draw up his Golden Fleece and blast the soundwave back at Radamanthys, sending him reeling backwards and crushing into the ground. Kratos got to his feet, and changed his blades once more, to the Claws of Hades. Radamanthys followed suit, rubbing his head in shock and confusion as he wrenched his arms from the ground. "Enough! Let us see how you face true terror!" Radamanthys vanished, and reappeared at Kratos side unexpectedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The world around them warped, until an oddly familiar darkeness surrounded them both. This place was dark and dank, surrounded by pure blue evil flames, they stood in an arena of the Underworld: Yomotsu HiresakaHill.
"Welcome to the Underworld you so proudly claim to have overthrown!" Radamanthys said tossing Kratos backwards. Kratos caught himself and took a look around. He brushed himself off, then stuck his Claws into the flames that surrounded them. The flames reacted violentl, unable to understand Kratos' weapon. This was not his underworld. In the pits of the Underworld, Radamanthys got a natural boost of strength, and once more brimmed with strength. He roared with pride and lunged at Kratos once more. But Kratos had a trick up his sleeve as well. When Radamanthys lunged, a wall of purple flames erupted in front of him milliseconds before he would have ripped through Kratos' stomach. He was greeted by an all to familiar voice, and a figure's soul that climbed out fo the ground. Radamanthys began to slowly step backwards, his mouth open wide again. "What is this!?" he shouted in shock.
Claws in hand, it finally reached the surface and leaped high, landing right in front of Radamanthys finally. It was twelve feet tall, and though it was just a soul, it was tangible. Radamanthys knew this because when the soul lowered itself to his level, he could feel it's putrid breath on his face. It's helmet skewed it's face, sharp horns potruding from the top and curving to the left and right. It's mask was much like a grill, and when it spoke, all was silenced around them. "Greetings. Radamanthys!"
There was none to be said. Byakuya's death was a quiet, insulting one, as he was nearly shot in the head this time. Kratos spotted the arrow from afar, and deflected it into the ground. Frowning, he turned back to Byakuya and got down to his level.
"Who are you really?"
Byakuya said nothing, but struggled to take from his inside coat pocket, a tattered picture. Kratos took the blood stained photo in his hands. In the picture, there were two others besides Byakuya. They were dressed casually, as if they had gone and visited a normal world. One was a young girl with bright pink hair. She smiled gleefully as she hugged a much taller man around his neck. She sat atop his left shoulder. The man she hugged was much older, and more mature. His spiky hair held bells at each end, and he too wore a huge grin, smiling back at his little lady friend. And just to their right, there stood Byakuya. He was frowning in the picture, arms folded as he face the East. But you could tell in that picture he was happy to be there, whether he showed it or not. And for the first time in a long time, Byakuya now smiled. Taking the picture back from Kratos, he slowly turned it around to view it again.
"These are my comrades," he said weakly. "I only wonder where they are now. Regardless, I'm sure I'll see them again some day. Even if it means I have to put up with. . . " he struggled to talk, gasping for air and coughing. ". . . put up with that orange haired clown. That strawberry. Kurosaki. . . Ichigo. I have. . .a last request, warrior." Kratos nodded. "If you ever see my comrades. . . tell them I'm sorry." Byakuya grabbed Kratos by the back of his neck, and then by his forearm. Forcing Kratos to stab Byakuya in the heart, he died almost instantaneously. Byakuya's head hanged low, resting against his chest. His Zanpaktou shattered on the ground, and turned into spirit particles. At least now, he was in no more pain. And this death. . .it reminded Kratos so much of Athena's.
Kratos took the photo from Byakuya's lap now, and closed Byakuya's eyes. It wasn't much of a fight. Kratos could tell Byakuya was slowing down. His strikes were many, but they were empty. And something itched at Kratos' mind, telling him Byakuya was not the man he fought. That the man he fought was someone-- something else. They could have been allies, great partners on the field of battle. But they were dressed as enemies, and their shadows danced in a plagued light. Even though Kratos was finally drawing back to full strength, he felt weak that he fought a man who wasn't at his best. Kratos placed the picture into his garments and balled a fist. He promised himself he would never use these words again, but he said them anyway.
"I will find who did this to you, friend. There will be vengeance."
There was another foe now. He addressed both Byakuya and Kratos, but Byakuya was already dead. Kratos pointed down to Byakuya as he faced Butlerok now. "This man. He was your comrade. Before I had slain him, he was different in color and status. And if your goddess is the one who controlled him," Kratos said his fist still balled. "Then she will be the next god I kill."