What Happened in Portland

[Edgedancer he/him]

Getting rid of the syrup got a lot easier, as he started to ignore the damage he did to his skin. Dealing with his opponents became more and more challenging. The vehicle again proved that it would be best to take out glitter first. Getting to her still-

 

Something exploded next to him. A burst of pink burned itself into his eyes as he was tossed aside. The world went from pink to white to black. Slowly he could recognize his surroundings again. He was inside another house and according to the pain in his back he entered through the window. While he stood up he scanned the room. A family was scattered across the floor, mother, father and a son well in his twenties, all unconscious but alive. On the floor was also a rifle that seemed still usable. If they wanted to hide here from their fight, it misfired horribly. A glance through the hole in the wall also revealed that he was on the second floor.

 

Nighthound turned the family into hounds, giving each of them a significant amount of power, and send them downstairs. Then he picked up the rifle and moved himself to the next room. There he took position and searched the vicinity. Hopefully the smoke from the exsplosion and the night sky would obscure his mist. Between the rubble he could make out two cars. One was Lightwards´ tank and the other one a… catmobile for the couple. At least now he knew who litered the city with cats.

 

With a better understanding of the situation he gave the hounds more concrete orders. The father was to charge them head on, more of a distraction than a proper attack, the mother was to move in through the house ruins, trying to get to glitter and the son he ordered to sneak around the still standing buildings until he could approach from behind. Nighthound himself stayed at the window and aimed the rifle at the woman. Firing at her now wouldn´t help but it might when she was distracted.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Funtimes had equipped the undercarriage with some sort of gravitonics that emitted a bright green glow as they propelled the Catmobile upward. The car couldn't quite fly, but it did rise above the rubble as Funtimes put it into reverse, then zoomed out into the street.

Moments later, the house burst into pink flames.

Funtimes laughed and set the car on the asphalt. Nathan glanced around frantically for the feral Epic. Instead, he saw a hideously canine woman bounding toward then on all fours.

"Doctor!"

She laughed again. "You've got the guns, smoochie pie!"

Smoochie pie? Nathan didn't waste time wondering whether he liked that term of endearment. As another projectile trailed confetti, he pressed a button on the console labeled with a banana.

He glanced back and saw the woman slip and fall. "I didn't know that worked!" He shouted over the wind.

She laughed.

The woman got to her feet and resumed her pursuit.

"Calamity!" Nathan scanned the console, found a button bearing a frowning face behind bars, and pressed it. A cage was launched from the trunk, landing with an open door toward the woman. Unable to slow her momentum, she ran headlong into it, the door closing as her head banged against the bars.

But where was Stupidface?

Nathan looked up at some of the second floor windows. The tip of a rifle barrel was visible from one, but just barely.

"Found him," Nathan said, taking her arm. Thank goodness, she recognized the signal for what it was and teleported, car and all, to the end if the street. Laughing hysterically, she pressed another button, putting up the ragtop, and zoomed back toward the feral Epic's window.

[Kobold King he/him]

I don't want to be enjoying myself right now, but I'm not sure I can help it, thought Lightwards with a mixture of delight and concern. Sure enough, Funtimes' convertible was displaying an even more reckless disregard for the laws of physics than his own tank. Her vehicle almost seemed to be flying over the dark and smoky battlefield as she darted around, pursued by one of Nighthound's minions.

 

Lightwards ignored their struggle. He couldn't rely on the insane Doctor for the entire fight. He'd need more opportunities to use his own power. After all, he was only safe when he was in full control.

 

His vulture settled by his tank's window, staring at him with its blank, servile expression. Lightwards scratched it on its bald blood-red head.
"I've got a job for you." He selected a decent-sized house from the street and reversed into it.

 

----

 

Simon Regway winced as he heard a crashing sound from upstairs. They heard a crash from the neighbor's house, and immediately the family had relocated into the basement. Epics were like natural disasters, and most families in Portland treated them just as they would earthquakes or tornadoes. His wife and brother-in-law sat beside him in the damp underground vault, both with grim and sweat-flecked faces.
 

"I hope the Sadrys are fine," Alice Regway muttered. "They're so nice." She was an optimist at heart. Always had been, historically speaking. Simon hated seeing her like this. The post-Calamity world made worrywarts out of everyone.

 

"I'm sure they're fine," her brother Fanklin assured her. "Epics move through a neighborhood, tumble about for a little while, and then usually they're gone again. They usually leave us regular folk out of it."

 

Simon privately disagreed, but it would be impolitic to say so at the moment. Instead he held hands with his wife and listened.

 

Crash.

 

The trio jumped at the sound of a massive crash, as if one of their walls had suddenly collapsed. With dry lips, Simon walked to the door and tried to hear outside. Their dog Miffy was issuing her loud Rottweiler bark, the one she reserved for intruders. It had been a while since she'd used it on anything other than a rabbit.

 

There was a scuffling sound from upstairs, causing Miffy to yelp. There was a loud squawk, as if some sort of bird was fighting.

 

Footsteps. Then silence.

 

"Are they gone?" Franklin asked, concerned.

 

"Yeah," breathed Simon Regway. "I think Miffy fought something off. Good for her." He felt guilty about leaving the dog upstairs, but they'd been in a hurry to get into the basement.

 

Suddenly, they heard a whining by the door. "Miffy?" Alice asked, puzzled.

 

There was a bark from the other side. Miffy's friendly bark. Simon thought it sounded a little less passionate than usual--a flat yet friendly woof. But he attributed it to his dog being hurt and tired.

 

"I'm going to open the door and let her in," he informed the household. They all nodded. Miffy was a much-loved member of the household.

 

Simon Regway turned the doorknob, opening the basement door and seeing Miffy standing before them, flecked with feathers and spots of blood. Her eyes stared at him vacantly, her body posed in an attack position.

 

"What the Calamity?" Simon cursed. He started to slam the door shut, seeing a dust-coated man with glasses and an intellectual's coat standing down the hall behind Miffy.

 

Too late. The Rottweiler slammed into him, sinking her teeth into his throat as he gave out a pained and confused shriek. His last conscious thought was that the family pet had darted into the basement and by the sound of the growls and screams, was now ripping them apart.

 

----

 

Lightwards raised the three adults, two men and one woman. He raised his vulture again, which had suffered another death while supplying him with his newest Warrior of Light, a finely built Rottweiler. A particularly sturdy and ferocious Warrior of Light, it was. He decided to name it Tartarus.

 

"New plan, my Warriors," he said cheerfully, observing his newly resurrected recruits. "I am returning to my combat vehicle. Take that rifle over there--the one Tartarus tore out of your hands--and any other firearms you have here, and march into the house next door. I want you to kill every normal human on this street, and Tartarus will drag their bodies into the living room upstairs for easy access."

 

The three Warriors gave slow nods, showing that they understood their instructions.

 

Lightwards gave them a beaming smile and salute, then returned to his pink vehicle. Settling himself in the operator's seat, he set the vulture in the seat beside him and did a quick survey of the chaotic street in front of him.

[Edgedancer he/him]

The Catmobile glided over the rubble and dispatched the female hound rather easily. It was useless in a cage, so he drew his power back to himself. The more problematic development was that they saw him and teleported a good distance away. Great, he wasn´t good enough of a shot to hit them from this distance. It didn´t help, that the car was clearly changing, could be that they already started to charge their  death ray or a cake catapult. Might be best to leave them to the hound that was still positioning itself.

 

Thinking about hounds what was with the father? A quick side-glance revealed that it was currently charging a group of zombies. Seems, like Lightwards planned to gather some recruits. Can´t let you do that.

 

Nighthound leaned out of the window and fired a quick shot at an undead dog. He hit but it was hard to tell if it killed the dog. Then he abandoned his position and made for the other side of the house, hopefully leaving the reach of whatever the couple was planning. Once he arrived at another window he jumped out of it. Softening the landing on all fours, he took a short moment to orient himself and joined his hound in attacking the zombies.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

It was difficult to decide on the best part of the Catmobile. Was it the plush interior, ensuring comfort as they fought a psychopath? Was it the console, filled with buttons in every color of the rainbow, bright pictures, and levers in fun shapes? Or was it the ragtop, strong enough to ward off the claws of the hound-person that somehow managed to land on it?

None of those, Nathan decided. The best part of the Catmobile was the driver.

Newcago Epics drove as quickly or as slowly as they pleased, but the only rule was that they always had the lead. Or else. Nathan had thought them skilled, having seen the various methods they devised for cutting off other drivers at top speed.

They were beginners next to Funtimes.

Just after closing the ragtop, she turned on the stereo. Fast, fun saxophone music blared from the speakers, but it still didn't drown out her laughter. She swerved around one zombie, then another, circled a third and pulled alongside Lightwards' tank. Turning down the music, she rolled down the window and shouted at their ally.

"You were all bleedy back there. I'll give you a blood transfusion if we can borrow one of your zombies!"

The offer was so ridiculous, yet made so much sense, that Nathan couldn't help a laugh. "Pretty please? We need a controller for the backseat consoles." Whoever the zombie was had probably been killed by the feral Epic. It seemed appropriate to conscript them into the fight against their murderer.

"President of the Backseat!"

Nathan laughed again. "Can we have a backseat president?"

Edited August 3, 2014 by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

[Kobold King he/him]

Lightwards prided himself on the efficiency of his Warriors of Light. The small Regway family had quickly slaughtered their immediate neighbors, an elderly couple with what seemed to be a thirty year-old grandson in the house. They'd seemed surprised when the Regways broke down their front door and started shooting. Tartarus had quickly moved into position, dragging the younger man towards the assigned place. Suddenly, the dog dropped to its side as a gunshot rang through the air.

 

Snarling, Lightwards swiveled some kind of anti-aircraft gun towards the building he'd observed the gunshot from. A simple pulling of a trigger unleashed a hail of bullets at Nighthound's current location, every fifth shot followed by a pink tracer. The storm of lead ripped through windows and walls of the building's second story before he saw the Epic leaping out the building's window.

 

He was about to start launching his remaining party rockets when Funtimes' convertible pulled up alongside him, rolling down its window to the sound of fading saxophone music.

 

A face specked with grains of loose glitter stuck out out of the car and grinned at him. "You were all bleedy back there. I'll give you a blood transfusion if we can borrow one of your zombies!"

 

The Traveler laughed along with his girlfriend. "Pretty please? We need a controller for the backseat consoles."

 

Lightwards quickly weighed his options as the two continued their moronic banter. Before she'd brought it up, he'd forgotten just how light-headed he'd gotten. He felt thoroughly exhausted, as if he might pass out at any moment.

 

That would be a very bad idea. "Take that one," he gestured, waving towards the female member of the Regway household. "Her name's Alice. Alice, do what they say."

 

He closed his eyes in a grimace, telling himself that if Funtimes were interested in turning the blood in his veins into ketchup, she'd probably have done so by now.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Alice climbed into the back and sat with hands in her lap, awaiting instructions. "Traveller! My sitar, please!" 

 

Nathan didn't ask where the sitar was, for it was draped across the backseat. Nor did he ask why she had bothered to transfigure a destroyed couch cushion into a sitar, rather than leaving it as it was. He pulled the sitar into the front seat. Funtimes put the ragtop down long enough to stand on her seat and hand the sitar to Lightwards. Then she sat down, and up went the ragtop. 

 

"What's the type that anybody can take? Is it Q?" 

 

"O-negative," he said quickly. If Lightwards died of a bad transfusion, he would not be a pleasant man upon resurrection. "Q's not a blood type." 

 

Funtimes giggled. "Right. Silly me. The minus sign made it look like a Q." She snapped her fingers, and the sitar became a bag of blood, small metal stand and hook, and an IV needle. 

 

"He'll need some antiseptic and gauze for the wounds, and allergy meds in case there's a reaction." The items appeared from a bowling ball Alice handed up from the backseat. Funtimes passed them to Lightwards. "And you should have one of the zombies monitor you, make sure there aren't any complications." The feral Epic seemed intent on destroying every zombie he saw—not a bad goal, but it wasn't good for their cause. Meanwhile, the hound-person who had been thrown from their roof was bounding toward them, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. Nathan would have liked to stay and monitor the emergency transfusion—he had done it before, whereas Funtimes' previous experience seemed limited to a passing glance at the label—but there was no time. 

 

Before Nathan could explain their departure, Funtimes put the Catmobile into reverse. Nathan pressed a console button labeled with a boxing glove. An oversized one rocketed from the front bumper and sent the hound-person flying. 

 

"Let's get that cuckoobrain!" With that, the Catmobile lunged forward, leaving Lightwards with his tank, instructions, and whichever zombie he thought would make the best nurse. 

Edited August 3, 2014 by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

[Edgedancer he/him]

With less power killing the zombies took more effort, certainly not much but more nonetheless. Nighthound twisted the arm of one that lounged at him, throwing it to the ground and stomping on its rip cage deforming its torso significantly. Looking over his shoulder revealed that the Catmobile punched his hound away and was now charging at him.

 

I´m not going to complain. He grabbed one of the zombies, tossed it at the vehicle and sprinted at the car. The Catmobile proved to possess very effective windshield wipers, as the body was thrown of the car almost immediately. Still, Nighthound used the time to draw back the power in the punched aside hound and surged forward and once again sliding over the ground.

 

He slithered along the side of the car, with just his arm getting under the tire. It made an annoying Beep-Beep sound, which sounded way too distinct like a female voice simply saying "Beep-Beep," as it rolled over his arm. Thankfully, their gliding mechanism meant that less weight pushed on his arm, leaving it workable enough to search for said mechanism under the car.

 

Something protruding from the bottom of the car came into his hand. Gripping it tightly, he pushed himself away from the car ripping out whatever he gripped and kicked against the car, sending it spinning into the zombies. The car gave him a goodbye by opening a little pocket in its side, discharging little smarties like objects. Half of those smarties exploded on skin contact, knocking him away and ruining his attempt to climb back on his feet, the other half clinged to his skin as some kind of jelly.

[Jo and the Bush all/any]

Sightline watched as Altermind got off of the Motorcycle and walked into the Thoughtown's Headquarters with an albino Woman. Another Epic? A Torturer? Either way, He was going towards the Prisoners. He was going to play his hand. Sightline teleported onto the roof of the Building. He would have to grab one of the prisoners while the other was being interrogated. But who was Alter going for first? The Fire-Epic or the Camera Man? He needed more Intel.

 

He ran towards the south end of the roof, and jumped off. As soon as he saw the ground, he teleported. His Teleportation powers didn’t obey Physics. When he teleported, he lost all Momentum. It was nice for stopping falls, but he couldn’t teleport on a train without hitting a wall at high speeds. He turned towards the building, and teleported by reflex as soon as he saw the window. The room was empty of life, but full of items reminiscent of Middle School. Weird. He walked through the room to the Door, and twisted the Knob. It was unlocked. The Empty hall stretched out on either side of the door. There were other doors in the hall, most marked, some not. If Gordon’s Intel had been correct, he should be a couple halls south of the cells. Unfortunately, the hallway didn’t point that direction.

 

After a brief moment of hesitation, he turned right, and started jogging down the hall. He’d just have to ask for directions. If the people he asked started shooting at him, he’d ask someone else. If they started Epic-ing at him, he’d stick them in a wall. Though that hadn’t worked for CorpseMaker apparently. He’d have to go and finish the job, once Gordon finished scouting out the bank. Having professional Intelligence was much better than his normal method of going it, sitting down until they walk by, then killing them. Though it had worked in Bend.

 

 A man in a white lab coat walked around the corner, looking down at something in his hand and mumbling to himself. Sightline slowed down to walking speed, and moved to block him. “Sir, what’s the fastest way to the cells?”

 

The man looked up, and stopped walking. “You’re not wearing a coat, and I don’t recognize you. That probably means you’re an Intruder.” He pulled a breakfast Sandwich out of his Pocket and took a bite. “So that means I have to report you, but I’m supposed to do that to Scorch, and he’s betrayed us or something, and the Higher-ups haven’t given us a new security Chief. So my only option is to talk to you and to try to not die.” The man finished talking, and took another bite. Sightline just stared at him. The man reached into his pocket, and pulled out another Sandwich. “Sausage McMuffin?”

 

“If you’re only option is to talk to me, then why don’t you tell me where the cells are?” And why are you keeping Sausage McMuffins in your Pocket? And where did you get them? McDonalds went out of Business after the Epics destroyed the Capital.

 

“The cells are this way.” The man turned around and started walking back the way he had come. “And this McMuffin is going to get Cold.”

 

Sightline hurried to catch up with the man. “You don’t even have pockets. Where were you keeping those?”

 

“In my Pockets.”

 

“That’s not Helpful.”

 

“It is to me. I don’t ever have to worry about finding food. I can just pull another Sausage McMuffin out of my Pocket. Even if I don’t have one.” They passed another Lab coat walking in the other direction. She glanced at Sightline, but ignored the Muffin man.

 

“You’re an Epic.”

 

“Yup. My name’s Big Al.”

 

“Your power is that you can make Sausage McMuffins?”

 

“And somehow, I stay healthy.” They turned another corner.

 

“That’s one of the Most Unique Powers I’ve heard of.” And technically, He should kill him. He was an Epic after all.

 

“I get that a lot. It’s why I got hired though. Anyway. The cells are all in that hall way. Third door on your right.” Al brandished his McMuffin at one of the doors. “Now then, I have to get back to work.” He turned around, and resumed his previous Path.”Bye!”

 

Sightline just stared after him. “That has to be the most confusing Conversation I’ve ever heard.” Anyway, he needed to rescue the prisoners. He teleported to the door, and turned the knob. This time, the door was locked. He laid down on the floor, and peeked under. He could barely see the hallway beyond, but it was enough to allow him to teleport in. Numerous doors lined the hall, with bars instead of windows. Every fifth or so door also had a guard stationed in front of it, and most of them were raising guns to shoot at him. This is exactly why I need more Intel.

Edited August 4, 2014 by The Only Joe

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

A single zombie to the windshield broke the spell. 

 

To that point, Nathan had actually enjoyed the fight. And what was not to enjoy about riding in a Catmobile at top speed, breaking the laws of physics while a zombie pressed buttons in the backseat? 

 

But when the zombie—no, a person, just an undead one—hit the windshield, he remembered: There are people here and people are going to die. 

 

"Doctor," he said, "do you think we could pick up some of those hound-things? Just to keep them away from Stupidface?" 

 

She giggled. "Alice! Press the cage button-thingy!" 

 

Alice did so. The man, now rid of his canine features, was trapped between three barred walls that descended from a mechanical arm of the Catmobile. His feet remained on the asphalt. The cage would render him useless to the feral Epic, thus keeping him safe. 

 

The feral Epic's face came into view just before ducking out of it. Funtimes swerved the Catmobile toward him, shouting "Bee-beep!" 

 

Nathan couldn't help it. He laughed. 

 

Kee—runch. 

 

Something was torn out from the underside of the car, causing it to lurch. "What was that?" 

 

"That—agh! He took the floaty thingy!" 

 

The gliding mechanism. Nathan looked out the window and realized the green glow had left the street. He searched the console, found a button labeled with melting candies, and pressed it. "Can you make another one?" 

 

Funtimes shook her head. Her lips were pursed in anger. 

 

Then there was only one thing left to do. "He's back that way." 

 

Her scowl became a devious smile, and she spun the wheel around. Nathan caught a glimpse of the feral Epic on the ground, coated in some kind of brightly colored jelly, before Funtimes stepped on the gas and charged him headlong. 

[Kobold King he/him]

Lightwards' eyes grew wide at first as Funtimes rambled on about Q-type blood. Then he narrowed them, telling himself over and over that Funtimes couldn't possibly be as dumb as she made herself out to be. Maybe she acted stupid to put people off guard, or she was covering some kind of weakness. Those were the main reasons for all manner of strange Epic behavior.

 

As the duo speeded off in their Catmobile, taking a Warrior with them, he solemnly performed the transfusion himself with Simon Regway standing dispassionately by the side of the tank. "I have no idea what's going on over there," he muttered angrily as the blood went into his veins. He yanked out the nail in his side, quickly glazing it in anti-septic and bandaging it with a piece of Simon's shirt.

 

Suddenly, a green glowing piece of Funtimes' car came hurtling towards them, hitting Simon the zombie in the face and knocking him to the pavement with a splash of blood. Lightwards cursed before opening the side door and leaning out of the massive combat vehicle, touching the deceased Regway and restoring him to life.

 

Nighthound's dogged persistence on destroying each of his Warriors had now left him with nobody but Simon and the vulture. Well, Mrs. Regway as well, but she was probably dressed as a clown and serving Funtimes pancakes in that deranged vehicle of theirs. Lightwards took a deep breath and stepped out of the tank.

 

"You get in there, Simon," he commanded the newly risen Warrior. "Use the machine guns to eliminate Nighthound and his canines if you see them. I'll be back momentarily with more Warriors."

 

Taking Simon's rifle, he moved through the darkness and touched Tartarus' dead carcass, bringing the dog back. Another quick touch restored the old man the Rottweiler had been dragging. "Get into that tank," he ordered quietly, sending them on their way. He himself moved to the other end of this sidewalk, where an elderly woman and a thirty year-old man lay still on the pavement, filled with their neighbor's bullet holes.

[Edgedancer he/him]

On the bright side, he managed to grab the right car component, hit one of the zombies and all of his wounds were rapidly healing. On the down side, he was lying on the ground, wounded, while a car that looked like a mistreated cat and was driven by a glittered madwoman charged at him, covered in a jelly that said madwoman can turn into pretty much anything, Lightwards was most likely still working on raising more zombies, all his hounds were out of commission and he was rusting naked. Calamity, isn´t this entire mess just storming lovely!

 

This time getting under the car wouldn´t be half as pleasant. Nighthound jumped to his feet and prepared to leap over the Catmobile. Something held his legs to the ground. The jelly around his legs turned into a chain… a very plushy multicolored and shining chain but a chain nonetheless. Alright, new plan. He shifted his weight and tried to push against the car. The jelly prevented this as well, the remaining mass around his arms exploded in a flash just as colorful as the chains, slapping away his arms and making it impossible to get any kind of hold.

 

The car crashed into him. The chains were ripped out of the ground. Nighthound pulled himself up on the car and let his slided to the driver´s side. There he positioned himself next to the door and ripped it out. Snarling he attempted to grip the loon again and end this mess.

[Jo and the Bush all/any]

Sightline teleported to the far end of the hall. The closest guard yelled out in surprise and tried to turn his gun on Sightline. Sightline grabbed the barrel of the gun, and teleported to the side.

 

“Teleporter! Pentagon Formation! Louie, Contact AlterMind!” The Guards scrambled into groups of Five, back to back. Sparks, they’ve fought Teleporters before. Sightline picked the nearest group of guards who were still forming up, and teleported into the middle of them. He grabbed two of them by the neck, and teleported straight up, and to the left, then dropped the now naked guards onto their comrades. Their guns, knives and body Armor fell around them. He fell, and came up in a roll. Then Gunshots started happening. He teleported again, then again. He ended up behind a man who appeared to be talking into an Earpiece. “One Hostile, Teleporter, Prison, Gah!” Sightline teleported him straight up again, stripping him of his gun and armor.

 

More Gunshots. A guard screamed. Sightline whirled towards the source, and saw one of the guards down from friendly Fire. Calamity! If he kept removing their Armor, more of them would get killed. He’d have to aim for guns instead. So he teleported again, this time, appearing right above a guard. He landed with both feet on the man’s shoulders, and rode him down to the floor, grabbing his gun on the way. Then he terraported again, ending up back at the door. He used the gun to shoot through the locks on the door, then kicked it open and through the gun outside the Prison. The whole process took about five seconds.

 

That was four too long. A bullet erupted from his left shoulder. He screamed in Agony, and teleported back to where he had stripped the two guards. He wouldn’t be using his left arm anymore. Time to play Hardball. He teleported to the nearest guard, grabbed his neck, and teleported a foot to the right, and dropped the weaponless guard. Then he grabbed another, and repeated the process. Teleport. Grab. Teleport. Doge, grab.

 

Then a flashbang went off. Being blinded in Battle is one of the worst things that can happen, especially if you’re a teleporter. But being blinded when the enemy knew you were going to be blinded? That was catastrophic. Instantly gunshots started sounding. So he teleported again. And screamed, as he lost all the feeling in his foot. He jerked it back, but it was stuck, in a wall. So he teleported. And the Sparking wall teleported with him. Rusting Skin Contact. This is why I always wear shoes.

 

The gunfire stopped, as everyone stared at the wall. The wall for its part, started to tip over. If he teleported, the wall would come with him, and crush him. If he stayed here, the guards would shoot him, but also die. So he teleported again, closer to a guard, grabbed his knife, and swung.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

"Oh no you don't!" That was what Nathan said, although his thoughts were more along the lines of: "AAAAHHHH EPIC ON THE WINDSHIELD GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!" He took Funtimes' wrist, but the feral Epic already had a grip on hers. Not to mention the Catmobile was headed directly for a fence, with a home beyond. Nathan grabbed the steering wheel and swerved from the fence while trying to pull Funtimes back into the car.

"Alice! Do something!" Too late he recalled Lightwards' orders to Donald regarding thinking. What if her idea of "something" was to scream and wave her arms or--

Alice mashed a button. A mechanical arm shot up from the hood, and a wrecking ball cast in the shape of a daisy swung out, colliding with the feral Epic and knocking him from the vehicle. Funtimes was nearly torn from her seat, but Nathan wrapped his arm around her just in time.

"That meanieface!" She shook out her disheveled hair, raining bits of glitter, and regained her grip on the wheel.

Nathan had other concerns. Alice had been commanded to do as they said, so... "Good thinking, Alice!" He turned in his seat to grin at her. "Do more of that, all right?"

She nodded, paused thoughtfully, and said in a monotone: "I think we need a jet."

Even with his heart racing a hundred miles a minute, Nathan knew brilliance when he heard it. "Doctor, can you make a jet?"

She grinned. "Yes! Yes I can!"

She stepped on the gas. There was a brief clatter of metal, and then Nathan's stomach lurched as the Cat-jet rose from the ground and swooped over the feral Epic's head.

[Kobold King he/him]

Lightwards quietly raised the pair on the sidewalk, smiling as they clumsily stood up.

 

He cast a glance towards the center of the street, where Nighthound was savagely attacking Funtimes' car. The feral Epic was slammed off of the car onto the street below, and the Catmobile morphed into a jet plane and flew over him.

 

A low-flying jet in a suburb at night? Lightwards thought skeptically. Whose idea was that? But there was no time to think. Motioning for his new Warriors to follow, he hurried back to the hot pink combat vehicle.

 

About two-thirds of the way there, the anti-aircraft gun started firing into the street, pink tracers showing exactly where heavy-caliber bullets tore through Nighthound's body and propelled him along the ground. Lightwards rapped on the side and demanded that the zombie let him in, scarcely heard over the sound of automatic gunfire.

 

He gathered his Warriors of Light into the tank as he resumed control. He quickly asked for names and performed a headcount. There was the Regway family, of whom only Simon was currently available. The Ronson-Clarke family consisted of the elderly couple and their grandson, sitting placidly in the backseat. And the animal Warriors, Tartarus and the vulture Lightwards hadn't gotten around to naming. That made a total of six Warriors, not counting Alice Regway.

 

Lightwards shined bright blue and orange spotlights over Nighthound's rapidly healing form. He took what seemed to be a microphone off the dashboard and began gloating through it.

 

"Someone's not looking so well," his voice boomed over the street. "The great hound of the night, reduced to an unclothed form bleeding in the street. A shining example of what happens to those who oppose our new Empire. Care to give up now? Or shall we turn this street into a smoldering monument to your stupidity?"

[Edgedancer he/him]

Did the wrecking ball crack some of his skull? Yes it did. Another one of these blows could be dangerous. He could see a jet fly over him, a jet that had a very distinct cat theme. That abomination is turning into a bigger pain than my sister. He was prompting himself up as high caliber bullets ripped through his body.

 

In situations like this his own body impressed him again every single time. His torso had more holes than flesh, yet he could not only survive but also manage to stand up. As he did so his flesh reknitted itself, his lungs already in perfect condition by the time he stood the rest of his body also wouldn´t take long.

 

A Flashlight shined on him and he could hear gloating. "Someone's not looking so well. The great hound of the night, reduced to an unclothed form bleeding in the street. A shining example of what happens to those who oppose our new Empire. Care to give up now? Or shall we turn this street into a smoldering monument to your stupidity?"

 

What a load of crem. Nighthound spat to the side, although it was more blood than actual spit, and gave a hysterical laugh. “I don´t know what´s more hilarious. That you must have digged up a third rate poet and eat his brain to spout lines like this or that you act all high and might, when all you did was drive a tank that a lunatic gave you. But sure, I´ll humor you. What are the advantages of your great empire, clothes even stupid clothes, not having a migraine or maybe proper dental care?"

Edited August 4, 2014 by Edgedancer

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Altermind watched the man squirm as he saw Voidgaze burn holes in the table. Eyes widening, the man finally admitted, "F-fine. Im Travis. I'm a photographer. I take pictures of Epics. I sell them. A-anyone who wants one can buy them." Altermind grinned. Something interesting, finally.

"Oh good. You should've told me that in the first place. I could've saved you some discomfort," Altermind smirked at Travis. A man barged into the room. Altermind spun and looked at him. "Request? I didn't send a request. I don't know who the Calamity you are." Throwing up an illusion of an electric-wall between the newcomer and the rest of the room's occupants, Altermind tried to figure out who this could be.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

The Cat-jet, as it turned out, did not carry any of what Nathan assumed to be standard jet controls. He had never flown a jet, but the cockpit of the Cat-jet differed considerably from those he had seen in old movies and TV shows. 

 

Colorful buttons covered the console. The seats were covered in pastel upholstery, the walls painted brightly. Funtimes steered the jet to a reasonably high altitude with a joystick, which she twirled with a giggle. 

 

"Um, maybe we should try a helicopter?" Nathan was grateful the seat belts were automatic. Had they not been, he would have been tossed against the ceiling by her barrel roll. 

 

"Helicopters? Pfft." Her hair stuck out wildly, most of the glitter having been transferred to her shoulders and forearms in the fight. One sock had fallen and lay bunched around her sneaker, the lights still blinking. "You can't do carpet bombing in a helicopter!" 

 

"Are—are you sure destroying the whole neighborhood is really necessary?" His first thought was for the people trapped in their homes. His second thought was for Lightwards, who would not be amused at death by friendly carpet bombing. 

 

Funtimes looked at him as though he had asked her how she felt about albino octopuses named Jerry. Actually—no, that wasn't right. She probably had a well-reasoned opinion on that one. "Destroy? Do you even know what carpet bombing is?" 

 

Do you? 

 

"Alice! The carpet buttons, please!" 

 

A series of buttons were pressed, and a mid-sized bomb fell from the jet's underside. 

 

----------------------------------

 

On the street below, a four-year-old girl watched from a downstairs window as the bomb descended. 

 

"Amy! Get away from there!" Her mother was crying, the sound blending with the bomb's muted whistles, but Amy couldn't move. She couldn't make her feet do what they had to. 

 

As her father lifted her from the floor and carried her away, the bomb detonated. Pink and green glitter filled the air, and when it cleared, a massive square of fluffy carpet landed atop the naked Epic facing the pink tank. A rainbow smiley face grinned at her from the rug. 

 

"Daddy, the carpet's asploding and it's really pretty." 

 

Her Daddy said nothing. She wasn't sure whether he would laugh or cry. 

Edited August 5, 2014 by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

[Matrim Bloody Cauthon he/him]

Psy-fi approached Altermind slowly, calmly walking through the illusion.

"Altermind, do you really not recognize me? Its me Joshua, we were neighbors for 16 years before calamity. I lied about the request, but that was the easiest way to get in, aside from killing all of your guards."

[Edgedancer he/him]

Something fell on him; it was fluffy and apparently not dangerous. He brought his hands up to his head and ripped a hole in the fabric. With his head in the open he could see that it was a carpet that had the woman´s typical style, it might make a decent poncho with the hole in it. But why a carpet? I can´t even muster up the effort to get angry at this mess anymore.

 

He looked back at the tank. “That answers my question, stupid clothes.” Nighthound shook his head and gave a sight. “Honestly, this is just getting ridiculous, I´m starting to feel sorry for you for having to put up with her.”

 

                                                                                  

 

The man´s, Travis, although he seemed more like a James or a Johnas, reaction proofed that Voidgaze had done her job well. Thanks to the achievement the waffles tasted even better. Sadly the interrogation was disrupted by some guy bursting into the room and Altermind didn´t seem all that pleased with him. She got killed often enough today, so just in case she turned towards the new arriver, pulled out a piece of paper from her sketchbook and flatly stared at him to watch for suspicious movements. All while holding a delicious waffle in her free hand and eating it.  

[Kobold King he/him]

Well that's one way to carry out a carpet bombing, thought Lightwards with a smirk. Somewhere he was disturbed that he found the pun so funny, but he was too busy to worry about it at the moment.

 

Nighthound tore his way out of the carpet, glaring at the tank and then sighing. “That answers my question, stupid clothes. Honestly, this is just getting ridiculous, I´m starting to feel sorry for you for having to put up with her."

 

Lightwards decided to ignore that statement. The fact of the matter was that Funtimes, while annoying, was turning out to be far more useful than any Epic he'd ever teamed up with before. And if he was quite frank with himself, she was much more entertaining than old Slaughterhouse had been.

 

"You are not in a position to feel pity," he boomed over the speaker. "These, Nighthound, are your final moments. Goodbye, little Epic--"

 

His speech was cut off as the speaker let out a frazzled static, then switched to playing loud polka music. There goes my good will towards that idiot, Lightwards thought furiously as he banged the speaker. The music slowed to a stop. For a moment, he thought he saw a man with a little girl struggling not to laugh through the window of a nearby house. Lightwards grumbled and nudged the combat vehicle forward.

 

He flipped the switches on what seemed to be the final weapons system on the tank. Two massive spouts swiveled to face the carpeted man, unleashing their internal canisters in a ferocious burst of flame.

 

Within seconds, the air was filled with the smell of incinerating carpet and burning hairspray.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Altermind thought back to his past. It was a part of his mind he hadn't explored in a long time. Joshua. Yes, he did remember a Joshua. "Joshua! I remember now. We were friends until I became an Epic," Altermind said. And I began taking over my dominion, he added silently. Just telling his guards he had an invitation wouldn't have gotten anyone past his guards though, not without them alerting Altermind. "How did you get in? My guards wouldn't just let you waltz in." Altermind dropped the pointless illusion. 

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Nathan felt sick as the jet coasted to a stop on the ground, and it had nothing to do with the two barrel rolls and one loop Funtimes had taken after the bombing. 

 

She had done it. She had really done it. With a giggle and a grin, Doctor Funtimes had bombed an entire neighborhood. 

 

You shouldn't be surprised, he told himself. She's an Epic. It's what they do. 

 

Still, an entire neighborhood….

 

He kept his silence and his face forward as the jet struck ground, wobbled, and rolled toward a stop. If Lightwards asked Alice what she had seen, she wouldn't be able to report his expression. Lightwards wouldn't know he hated what they'd done, hated himself for sitting through it instead of reaching back and slapping her hands away. 

 

There was another whirring crash of metal as the Cat-jet changed to a white hard-top Jeep. He should have done something, anything. Alice didn't matter. His cover didn't matter. Those people, the ordinary folk who hadn't done a thing to anyone, mattered. 

 

Funtimes giggled as the Jeep rumbled over the asphalt. He hated her. He didn't want to be near her. He would have rather died back in Newcago than sit and listen to her giggle at the thought of burning an entire street. 

 

The explosion had been a mass of pink and green, but there was no pink and no green nearby. "Doctor?" 

 

"Uh-huh?" 

 

"How far away did we land?" 

 

She shrugged. "'Bout a mile, I think." 

 

A mile. A bomb of that size would have spread destruction much further than that. The darkened homes they passed should have been at least scorched, if not partially destroyed. Every now and then a face peered out from between the slats of a window's blinds before retreating fearfully, but other than that there was no sign of devastation. 

 

Finally, they rounded a corner onto the street-turned-battlefield.

 

Aside from the homes that had been crashed through, shot at, or otherwise razed, there was no additional damage. Glitter still sat here and there in drifts, but most of it seemed to have been sucked back toward the bomb from whence it came. The smell of hairspray and smoke was so strong he gagged, and Funtimes, also coughing, rolled up the windows. And there, in the center of the street, was the true definition of carpet bombing. 

 

Lightwards' tank was aiming a jet of flame at a still-moving mass of cloth. Nathan could see the remains of a smiley face as it burned away. But the cloth was stiff, a hole cut in the center like a poncho where the feral Epic's head poked out. It wasn't cloth, it was….

 

"Carpet," he said in disbelief. "You bombed him with carpet." 

 

Funtimes laughed. "What'd you think carpet bombing was, silly?" 

 

He wanted to kiss her. 

[Edgedancer he/him]

Polka music had a better understanding of the situation than Lightwards did. Why else would it cut of that pathetic gloating? The flamethrower on the other hand sided with the undead. Interesting, polka music is smarter than fire, never would have guessed.

 

Nighthound jumped to the side in an attempt to evade the flames. Burning wasn´t all that problematic for him, however this time he wanted to keep the semblance of clothing he possessed. The flames caught his makeshift poncho. Sparks, of course they would! No more use in dodging. He ripped of the poncho before it could melt itself into his skin and charged the tank right through the fire, the disgusting smell of burnt meat and hairspray entering his nose.

 

As he reached the end of bursting flames, he jumped on top of the vehicle. Ripping out the door didn´t work out well last time, so how about just throwing it on its side. Grapping the railing on top he threw his weight from one side to the other, heaving the wheels more off the ground with each push. “Do you know what the worst part of this all is, Wardo? Now, I can no longer deny that another guy got me out of my clothes in a hot night. The woman I can understand but are you really that desperate?” He said between gritted teeth.

Edited August 5, 2014 by Edgedancer

[Kobold King he/him]

The vehicle creaked and rocked as the burning Epic attempted to push it onto its side. Lightwards cursed. "Get the guns trained on him!" he ordered, buckling the seatbelts he had ignored until now. They were decorated with 'Hello Kitty' stickers, but they'd at least keep him from tumbling too badly.

 

"Can't," the elder Ronson-Clarke said in a monotone.

 

"What do you mean you can't?" Lightwards fumed. He took up position by the weapon controls, only to find that the zombie had a valid point. None of the weapons could turn enough to reach their attacker.

 

"To Calamity with this!" he raged as his Epic assailant insulted his love life. He swung open the side door, aiming a rifle directly into his face.

 

"YOU ARE NOT IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO GET IN MY WAY!" he screamed. His fingers pulled the trigger several times and quick succession, causing Nighthound to stumble away from the vehicle in the midst of a thick blood splatter. As soon as Nighthound let go of the railing, the car swung violently in the opposite direction, causing Lightwards to be thrown backwards into the tank. The vulture broke his fall, but was crushed between him and the opposite side of the vehicle.

 

"Get that door closed!" he yelled with a curse. Simon Regway swung it shut with an expression that showed none of the concern his master reeked of.

 

Lightwards clambered into the driver's seat and began hurtling down the street, carefully avoiding the slick patches of maple syrup and burning oak.

 

"Lock every weapon we have on that lunatic. I want his end of the street obliterated."

 

At the slow, methodical sound of zombies pressing buttons, heavy-caliber gunfire, burning hairspray, and all remaining party rockets hurtled towards Nighthound's smokey shape.