The Tartarus was done for. It was easy enough to see. When the hell was the evacuation order coming?
Sweat poured down Tony's forehead as he looked out over the crowd of Special Officers who'd been waiting for the pods to take them down to Elysian Fields. He'd just received an order over the communicator to cease all launches, but how the hell was he going to tell them that? Right after they'd gotten them working again, too.
There was a mighty creak from the bowels of the vessel, barely audible over the shouting and complaints of the crowd. Hopefully things wouldn't turn violent, but these people were warriors -- warriors who felt that glory was actively being kept from them. There was no telling what would happen.
Tony put a finger to his ear as he tapped back into the communicator, reaching the nearby security station.
"Reinforcements to the launch bay!" he bellowed, struggling to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd. "We need to keep the peace he --"
Too late.
Tony heard a sickening crack as one Special Officer, having been bumped just a little too hard for his liking, whirled around and punched another in the face. As the victim fell to the ground, clutching their shattered nose, the enraged Officer leapt on him, bringing his fists down again and again.
"Hurry!" Tony cried into the communicator before moving to join the security officers who were heading into the crowd.
As he did, though, he was suddenly stopped -- by a small hand that grabbed him by the arm.
"Look," Tony said hurriedly, turning his head. "I'm sorry, I don't care who you are, I've got explicit orders, these pods are not going… oh."
The girl who had stopped him was not just anyone. She looked at him with resolute eyes, dark hair hanging loose around her head, her training tracksuit torn and filthy. The Supreme Heir.
"My Heir," Tony straightened up, offering a hasty salute. "What is it I can, um…"
There was another crack behind him as the enraged Officer began swinging at the personnel restraining him, and Tony jumped. As he glanced back at the carnage, he saw that some other Special Officers had joined in the melee, doing their best to hold down their wayward comrade. He shook his head slowly. Utter chaos. How had things gone this badly?
The Supreme Heir did not so much as flinch at the sounds of violence, though. She just stared up at Tony.
"I need a pod," she said firmly. "Now. The Supreme needs backup."
Tony sorted through things in his mind. The orders he'd been given were from the Ascendant-General himself, but did the Heir supersede that? She shouldn't, right? So long as the Supreme was around, the Heir was basically just a spare part.
Oh, but those eyes. These people were crazy. Why was he being forced to make these decisions?
"I-I'm sorry," he finally spoke, hesitantly. "But I can't launch any of these pods. Orders from Ascendant-General Toll."
"Listen," the Heir persisted, taking a step forward -- only to stop as a soft hand landed on her shoulder.
A blond woman -- one of the Special Officers, judging from her outfit -- stood behind the Heir, smiling pleasantly down at her. Her Cogitant-blue eyes locked onto the Heir's as the girl looked back.
"If you're looking to get down to the planet," the woman said kindly. "The pod bay on the other side of the Tartarus is still launching. You'll have better luck there, okay?"
The Heir didn't waste any time. Immediately, she was scurrying off through the crowd, purple Aether clouding around her feet to grant her additional speed. Tony cast a withering glance at the blond woman. These people really did just do whatever the hell they wanted.
"Why'd you go and say that?" he sighed. "It's just gonna make more trouble, you know."
The woman didn't say anything in response. Instead, she just turned and walked off down the hallway, leaving the pod bay behind. As she strolled out of sight, a spring in her step, she idly spun the crook she held in her hand. Yep -- she was definitely a Special Officer. Conduct aside, nowhere else would you find a more bizarre sense of fashion.
Seriously… what sort of soldier went around dressed up as a shepherdess, of all things?
----------------------------------------
The Supreme strode up the hill, crushing reeds beneath his massive feet, grinning widely all the while.
"You've gotten old, Esmeralda," he chuckled, golden Aether crawling over his muscles like sunlight. "You look tired. How's your health?"
Skipper tossed aside the bottle of wine he'd been holding as he rose to his full height. There was a series of mechanical clicks as he tested the joints in his prosthetic arms, sharpened fingers twitching in the air. He didn't answer the Supreme straight away. Instead, he looked down at Dragan, back at the bottom of the hill.
Man, he'd seen better days. At a glance, it looked like he was walking around with at least a third of his own body inside Gemini World. What kind of carnage had he seen back in the battle?
Don't lose heart, Skipper, he urged himself. The carnage was what you needed.
No matter how much he wanted to, Skipper couldn't afford to soften. Not now, not at the last hurdle. Instead, he nodded approvingly down at the Cogitant boy.
"Good work, kid," he said. "You're gonna wanna get outta here, though. Things are probably gonna get messy, yeah?"
Dragan's visible eye was hazy, unfocused, drowned in delirium -- but he nodded all the same. As he turned, ready to stagger back towards the forest, he muttered something barely audible.
"Don't lose."
Skipper grinned. "Never," he said -- and in the same moment he spoke, Dragan vanished from sight.
That just left the big guy. As Skipper turned to him again, the Supreme crested the hill, the two of them standing across from each other. Something… changed. It took a moment for Skipper to realize what it was, but once he did a chill ran down his spine.
The whole time he'd been waiting here, he'd heard them. The sounds of birds, fleeing the battle, tweets and screeches and cries. It had been constant, a cacophony in stereo.
Now… it had stopped. The whole world was holding its breath.
The Supreme's grin did not fade. "You didn't answer my question, Esmerelda. How's your health?"
Skipper chuckled, kicking his empty picnic basket away. It clattered down the hill, the sound echoing through the empty world. Two sets of eyes drilled into each other. All else was distraction.
"I could ask you the same thing, old-timer," he replied softly. "Surprised you ain't senile yet."
"Ha!" the Supreme barked out a genuine laugh as he winded his arm -- and took a step forward.
The effect was immediate. The instant that heavy footstep struck the ground, a burst of pressure surged forth, stripping the ground clean of the reeds populating it. They flew up into the air as a cloud of vegetation, and even Skipper had to brace himself to avoid being blown away.
The Supreme just kept grinning as he clicked his fingers -- it was clear he was only barely able to restrain himself right now. Well, that was fine. That was what Skipper had wanted when he'd set up this scenario.
He would kill the Supreme, here and now, with his own two hands -- and if he couldn't… there was always the other option. The bomb within the Lotus, waiting for his permission to explode and take Elysian Fields with it. But that was the final option, the final final option.
"You've got me hyped here, Esmeralda," the Supreme was almost salivating. "Show me. Show me what you're made of. I wanna see. Don't tease me, damnit!"
Skipper cracked his neck, taking a single step backwards -- not for retreat, but positioning. As the reeds finally began to fall back down from the ground, soft as feathers, he took a deep breath.
"You're a needy bastard, huh?" he said calmly. "Well, that's fine. I'm exactly the same. Heartbeat Freedom."
The man they called Skipper was visible for only the barest second after those words left his lips. Immediately afterwards, a pillar of shining emerald Aether exploded out of his body, engulfing his form and rising up into the sky. Great cracks of Aether crawled out from the very peak of the pillar, making it look for a brief second like some mighty world tree.
And somewhere within that mass, bright wings spread wide.
----------------------------------------
The Supreme spread his own arms wide as he beheld the technique, his laughter booming over the landscape. His golden Aether shone bright, forming a nearly perfect sphere, as if he was orchestrating a star around himself. Cracks spread across the ground at his feet from the sheer pressure he was exuding.
All that, and his eyes remained fixed on his opponent, green Aether reflected in them.
"Great!" he cried, voice strengthened by Aether and passion. "That's just great, Zachariah Esmeralda! You really have grown up, haven't you?! Just look at this shit, man!"
As the Supreme roared, the pillar before him faded -- and Esmerelda had vanished. He'd used that little lightshow as a smokescreen to get out of sight. Good. Very good!
The Supreme's mind raced, made feverish from joy as he swung his head around to locate his opponent. How would he start? How should he start? Just run in, or use an Aether ability? Which one? What was the best move? What did Esmeralda's ability do? How did it work?
Well, that was answered easily enough. The Supreme opened his mouth to speak.
"Excel Surge!" he called out at the top of his lungs. "Analysi --"
----------------------------------------
Heartbeat Shotgun.
----------------------------------------
The hammer of god struck the Supreme.
Right before he could finish the name of his ability, a tremendous force slammed into him from above. An ordinary attack wouldn't have even given the Supreme cause to flinch, but this possessed such force and power that he was pushed down into the ground, embedded in the dirt and stone up to his thighs. Dull pain -- a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time -- radiated across his bare back, golden cape torn to shreds by the impact. He tore the useless thing away with one hand and tossed it off into the wind.
That pain, that blow, that wonderful impact -- it had a direction of origin. Guffawing in glee, the Supreme snapped his head up to trace the source of the attack. It took him only a second.
There, flying high in the sky, was Zachariah Esmeralda. Feathered green wings, almost crystalline in appearance, spread out from his back -- and he was pointing his finger directly down at the Supreme. A mighty bolt of emerald Aether crackled along the digit as the Supreme carefully observed.
That was the Heartbeat Shotgun that had hit him, then -- an ability the Supreme already knew about -- but many times more powerful. Was that what this Heartbeat Freedom did, then? Act as a booster for his other abilities? The physical evidence suggested that, but Esmeralda had specifically moved to stop the Supreme from using Analysis. Did that mean the ability held more secrets he didn't want the Supreme to discover yet?
Fine with him. The fog of war was what made a journey fun.
Thrusting his own palm in Esmeralda's direction, the Supreme roared: "Excel Surge! Heartbeat --"
----------------------------------------
Heartbeat Shotgun.
The second blast, empowered to its utmost, slammed into the Supreme once more -- this time burying him up to his waist. He looked like some divine mole, sticking up out of the dirt like that. In different circumstances, Skipper might even have laughed.
His strategy had worked twice. That was surprising. Maybe the Supreme was rusty?
Most Aether abilities had names. Heartbeat Shotgun, Skeletal Set, Gemini World. Those names were more than just cool words to throw around -- they were a part of how people used their abilities. A kind of self-hypnosis, instantly putting you in the right state of mind to naturally use your power.
Powerful Aether-users would often learn to excise speaking their abilities out loud, lending an element of surprise to their attacks and reducing deployment speed. It would be difficult to find a top-tier combatant that needed to open their mouth during battle. The Supreme, however, was a rare exception to the rule.
Badge of Honour… Skipper had known during his Supreme Guard days that the Supreme could copy the abilities of his comrades, but it was only through careful research later in life that he'd narrowed down the specifics. The Supreme had to speak aloud the name of an ability in order to use it. That was a condition of Badge of Honour. If he wanted to use Excel Surge, which optimized those abilities, he had to speak that prefix aloud as well.
Heart-beat Shot-gun. Four syllables.
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Ex-cel Surge. Three more.
All in all, the Supreme had to speak seven syllables out loud to unleash a copy of Skipper's attack. Other abilities, ones he didn't know of, would be more of a gamble. Still, so long as Skipper could prevent him from speaking clearly, he could neutralize the Supreme's attacks… temporarily, at least.
This strategy was cheap and effective, but Skipper was under no illusions that it would work for long. The Supreme was too smart for that. This was nothing but an opener, an introduction.
The real fight hadn't begun yet.
----------------------------------------
I get it, I get it, the Supreme thought, leaping out of the ground, tearing chunks of the earth free in the process. You're trying to stop me from speaking, right? It's simple but it works. Probably even more effective since you use sound.
His movements were smooth and efficient, packed with potential like a taut rope. In an instant, he crouched and leapt upwards -- a sound like a cannonball blasting out.
And an instant later, he was struck by another Heartbeat Shotgun and sent back down to the ground.
Well, he thought. That's pretty much as I expected. From that position up in the sky, Esmerelda can deal with any linear paths of attack pretty easily -- especially while I'm down on the ground like this.
He pushed himself up once more -- and this time, instead of leaping, he began to run. Arms pumping with perfect form, he began sprinting up the mountain, weaving to avoid the countless blasts that pulverized the ground around him. Still, that on its own wasn't enough. Speaking coherently while running at the speed required to dodge these attacks just wasn't possible.
As the world exploded around him, attacks striking so loudly that a normal human would have been deafened many times over, the Supreme's mind raced. He thought through all of the abilities he'd accumulated, all the bonds of friendship he'd forged, searching for the power he could use here.
He knew that one of them would work here, if he just remembered, if he just thought back…
…and used it.
----------------------------------------
Where's he going? Skipper thought, face stern as he watched the dot that was the Supreme move across the ground. No matter what, I can't lose sight of him.
He was pouring absurd amounts of Aether into his eyeballs, infusing them to their limits, boosting their perception until he could clearly see the Supreme's mouth movements. That was the most important thing -- him being able to read the Supreme's lips and see when he was about to use an ability. He had to focus the Aether in his ears on reinforcing them, or he'd deafen himself with his own attacks.
Where's he going? Skipper thought, sweat trickling down his temples, his eyes as fixed as an eagle’s. Looking for a cave to get a moment to speak in? Or is he going to try and kick up a smokescreen?
If he lost sight of the Supreme for a moment, he'd have no choice but to bombard that area relentlessly. It was that or risk the situation flipping on him right then and there. If the Supreme was able to use an Excel Surge ability, Skipper would be put on the backfoot forever.
Even as he blasted and blasted, Skipper thought as fast as he could, running through options for his next move.
These wide-range Heartbeat Shotguns are enough to stun the Supreme and inflict minor damage, Skipper thought, but it won't be enough to actually injure or kill the bastard. To do that, I'll either need to focus my blasts or use other attacks -- but that'll make a miss even more disastrous.
Decisions, decisions.
Should he send out the boys in black? No, probably better to keep them in reserve for the time being: their presence would only make it easier for him to lose sight of the Supreme. Maybe he should swoop down and attack from a closer range? Definitely not: even with his Badge of Honour sealed away, the Supreme's enhanced speed and strength would be enough to swat him like an insect with a good hit.
In the end, the Supreme made the decision for him.
The giant man suddenly skidded to a halt, throwing Skipper's first blast off track, and whirled around to meet the second one. Golden Aether was crackling around his arm, but by all rights the Shotgun would hit him before even the words 'Excel Surge' could pass his lips. He'd misjudged his timing, surely.
But that was assuming he planned to say 'Excel Surge' in the first place.
----------------------------------------
The words the Supreme spoke were barely distinguishable from a grunt.
"Un-Ur."
The ability itself was nothing special -- originally belonging to Blackbrow the Man, it was basically a stone club that exerted an unusually high amount of force. With a guy who could do that anyway with just his own body, the normal version of the ability had gone unused for years. Until this scenario came about.
A scenario where an ability with such a short name was very welcome indeed.
Un-Ur appeared in the Supreme's hand, a hefty implement indeed, and he swung it at blinding speeds towards the incoming blast. Stone and sound collided with a resounding screech, the weapon visibly cracking even as the Supreme poured Aether into it.
All in all, Un-Ur would be able to withstand the Heartbeat Shotgun for about three seconds. Three seconds for four words. That was plenty of time.
"Excel Surge," growled the Supreme. "Heartbeat Landmine."
----------------------------------------
Captain Trenis of the Woodpecker had been an incredibly generous man. With no expectation of reward, and with every reason not to, he had stopped to respond to a distress beacon coming from a place entirely off his flight path. Even with his crew muttering about lost time and the overhead for fuel, he had not hesitated to answer a cry for help. Yes, Captain Trenis of the Woodpecker had been an incredibly generous man.
He had also been an incredibly unlucky man.
The bottom half of his corpse was sticking out of a nearby vent, the upper half of the body crushed and twisted to fit into the small aperture -- about the size of a can of beans. His unruly crew hadn't fared much better. Their bodies had essentially been disassembled, scattered chaotically throughout the vessel. Their blood painted the walls, the ceiling and the floor copiously. Even the pilot console had needed to be wiped clean before it could be used.
The new pilot wiped the screen clean once more, the new smear pattern allowing a marginally better view of the readings. He'd needed to push this tiny ship to its limit, and he'd slaughtered his way through several unofficial lightpoints, but he was almost there. Even if the ship fell apart around him, he was almost there.
Yes…
He would arrive at Elysian Fields within the hour.
"Skipper…" Avaman the Announcer hissed, hunched over the controls. "Skipperrr…"
----------------------------------------
Boom.
Even with Skipper protecting his ears with Aether, the sound of the Supreme's Heartbeat Landmine was deafening. It exploded all around him like a nuke going off, the resultant shockwave crawling over the land in an instant. It rose vertically, as well, hitting Skipper almost before he even had a chance to react.
But, through sheer luck, he did have that chance.
Skipper threw his arms out to his sides and called: "Heartbeat Landmine!" The blast of sound that projected around him was just enough to counteract the force heading for him, creating an eye in the storm -- but even that wasn't absolute. Gusts of air pressure like a tornado struck Skipper's body as he hung there, restrained in mid-air, his face a bright red. If he hadn't been using Heartbeat Freedom, even that reduced blow would have been enough to finish him.
What remained of the vegetation in the area was stripped clean by the shockwave, billowing up into clouds of shredded grass. The forest around them didn't escape either, elder trees pulled up by the roots and sent flying away. With just one attack, the Supreme had rewritten the face of the planet.
And he wasn't done yet.
Still grinning madly, the Supreme seemed to mirror Skipper's pose, throwing his hands out to the sides, as if to grasp reality and pull it together. Even through the maelstrom that had been unleashed, Skipper could see his lips move and form four words.
"Excel Surge!" he declared. "Quantum King!"
----------------------------------------
As the Widow looked out at the void of space through the window, she took a drag of her cigarette. The mercenary captain of this vessel had told her that smoking wasn't allowed, but she hadn't lived this long for some green gun-for-hire to tell her what she could and could not do. So she looked, and she smoked.
The brand she'd chosen was one from the lower levels of Serendipity called Varna. It was shit. That was why she'd chosen it. If she was going to do harm to herself, she didn't want it feeling good.
It was a punishment on some level, she supposed, for becoming the Widow again.
"You should be thrilled," she spoke quietly. "Maybe this time you'll get a chance to kill me."
There was only one other person in this room -- a cargo compartment empty of the goods that would usually fill it. The Widow could just barely see the reflection of her companion: Alcera Nox. Formerly a candidate to be a Special Officer in the Supremacy, now a member of the new Vantablack Squad -- and the person who hated the Widow most in this world.
The girl glared at her, burning red eyes framed by raven-black hair, red robes hanging over a black bodysuit. Her silence was no surprise: the girl hadn't spoken since the Widow had taken her from the UniteRegent. The only reason she worked with Vantablack Squad was in the hopes that, one day, the Widow would show a moment of weakness she could exploit.
But that was fine. A desire for revenge was just another motivation, and any motivation could be brought to heel. At any rate, Alcera had clearly realized this wasn't the chance she'd been looking for, and turned to leave.
"Make sure Sam Set and the others are ready for our arrival," the Widow ordered. "And listen in on the mercenaries. I don't want them getting any ideas about switching sides."
Alcera left the room. No reply, but the girl would do it. She always did.
The Widow's gaze returned to the void -- and to the ships hanging in it. Pierrot had certainly put together a passable fleet on short notice. In terms of firepower, they didn't have much to speak of, but they weren't coming to fight. Their mission was to evacuate the Regiment RED survivors of the battle -- they'd be useful symbols to foster further instability inside the Supremacy with. This could be the first of many rebellions.
In the end, it seemed that fool Skipper would get what he'd wanted. He certainly had a way of making events dance to his tune. Despite everything, a proud smirk tugged at the Widow's lips.
Inside the pocket of her dress, her script buzzed. She pulled it out and put it to her ear.
"Speaking," she said.
She hadn't looked at the caller display, but there was only one person who'd be calling under these circumstances.
"Dalcina," said Agnes Von Winterburn, voice made halting by the poor signal. "Where are you?"
The Widow scoffed. "I find it hard to believe you don't know where I am, young lady."
A moment's silence, and then: "How long until you reach Elysian Fields?"
"Within the day. We've been using those secret lightpoints your brother mentioned, and we've been making good time. So long as Regiment RED can hold out that long, I think we have a good chance of success."
"I see."
The Widow blinked. "You disagree, ma'am?"
"I am somewhat in agreement with Jaime Pierrot, you understand… but not totally. It's true that the survivors of Elysian Fields will be useful pieces. But one will be more trouble than he's worth."
"Which one?" The Widow already knew the answer, but she had to ask.
"Zachariah Esmeralda. If he somehow manages to kill the new Supreme, he by rights becomes the next Supreme. If we then take him into the UAP, the Supremacy will take steps to retrieve him. Things will escalate even further. Total war will become… highly likely."
The script seemed terribly warm against the Widow's ear, like it was some vicious organ she was pressing against her skin.
"If Zachariah Esmeralda has been killed by the Supreme by the time you get there, then there's no problem. But if he's still alive…"
The Widow gulped.
"...then it's your job to eliminate him. No witnesses. A Dawn Contest will delay any hostilities for quite a while."
"...I see."
"Is there a problem?"
Despite the fact it was pointless, the Widow shook her head. "No, ma'am. Consider it done. Peace and joy for all mankind."
"Peace and joy for all mankind."
And with that, the call ended. As she put the script back in her pocket, the Widow took another drag of her cigarette. It tasted awful. Good.
That was what she deserved.
----------------------------------------
"Excel Surge -- Quantum King!"
Quantum King was an ability originally used by a past Supreme, Damon the Devilish, and over the century since his death it had inspired numerous replications and derivatives. The one the Supreme had access to had been used by a young man named Houston Phillips, a soldier in the Supremacy military. They'd fought together against one of the resurgences of the Kingdom Moon Cult. Good times, good times.
It was a simple ability, when you got down to it: the power to pull and push objects to and away from the user. The original ability boasted terrifying levels of precision -- pushing a person's skeleton away while pulling the rest of their body, for example -- but Phillip's version wasn't quite capable of that. Still, it would get the job done here, especially once it was enhanced by Excel Surge.
The forest his Heartbeat Landmine had pulled out of the ground was still flying through the sky -- and so it was still within his line of sight. Quantum King was able to connect to each and every tree he was looking at with ease…
…and pull them back towards him.
The wreckage of the forest froze in mid-air for a fraction of a second -- and then went hurtling in the Supreme's direction, as if dragged by invisible strings. It was like a tidal wave in reverse, rubble flowing backwards in a straight line, spinning through the air by bizarre momentum.
He'd positioned himself well. By running up the mountain, he'd put himself in a spot where Esmeralda was right between him and the destruction his Heartbeat Landmine had kicked up. Even if the Supreme pulled the rubble towards him, it would hit Esmeralda first.
Zachariah had clearly realized it, too. He whirled around, firing Shotguns at the incoming projectiles, only to stop when he realized that wouldn't be enough against the arboreal barrage. His wings flapped as he began to fly, swooping through the flying forest as a streak of green light, each sharp turn accompanied by a sound like a bomb going off.
That was the Supreme's cue. He tensed his muscles as he lowered his body to the ground, judging distances and timing.
Badge of Honour came with more conditions than those required to acquire an ability. Usage also came with its own rules. For one, the Supreme could only use two abilities at any one time. On its own, that wouldn't be much of a problem -- any combination of two abilities could be devastating -- if not for the fact that Excel Surge counted as one of those two.
So, while he was pulling these trees using Quantum King, he couldn't activate another ability…
…but if he deactivated Quantum King, the momentum of the projectiles would go unchanged.
"Excel Surge…" the Supreme growled. "King of Currumpaw!"
----------------------------------------
Skipper weaved through the hail of massive trees, gritting his teeth as they buffeted past.
The wings that formed from Heartbeat Freedom's feathers granted him the ability to float, but in order to actually move he had to fire off a series of low-power Heartbeat Shotguns. With each dodge, a sound like a cannon rang out, his movements appearing strangely linear -- as if he were kicking off thin air.
These trees weren't his main concern, though. No matter what attacks came flying his way, or what bizarre effects engulfed the battlefield, they were nothing compared to the man controlling them. Skipper had to find him as soon as possible, or else he was a goner.
Bang. Skipper flew.
Bang. Skipper soared.
Bang. Skipper dodged.
Boom.
His eyes widened as he heard that final sound, that final boom -- one that he hadn't made. That wasn't a Heartbeat Shotgun at all. That was the sound of a foot kicking off wood.
Grim realization dawned. These trees weren't an attack at all. They were platforms.
In that instant, a heartbeat seemed to last an eternity.
Ba…
…dum.
The Supreme appeared. His speed was such that there was no better description for it. Before Skipper could so much as blink, the man who was like god was before him, gripping him by the collar with one hand.
His appearance had changed. Golden fur had sprouted up all over his arms and legs, and his grinning teeth had lengthened into sharp fangs. Those dull blue eyes had darkened to a pure black, all the way to the sclera. Most prominently of all, two additional ears seemed to be sprouting up from his head, pointed and furred like those of a wolf.
"Gotcha," he snarled --
-- and hurled Skipper down to the ground.