Moment of dread (Ouro)

This and that. Whatever this and that includes. It had probably happened by now. For about three years now, John Capore had been secretely masquerading as a superhero known as Forcewave. He had no clue whatsoever just how well known this other identity of his was. Apparently the government knew about him for he had been hunted on a couple of occasions. Yeah, it was none too pleasant. It could be expected though. He had heard that a large number of people had watched that one tournament on television. The one between sixteen metahumans that he had taken part in, and won. That was surprising even to him. It did explain how people knew about him though.

Now Chicago was not that great a place to live. Surprisingly enough the crime rate had gone down a lot recently. Perhaps there was a good reason for that. A lot of attempts at commiting crimes had been stopped dead in their tracks. That would be discouraging. He had been busy in dealing with, well everything. Not even a vacation had been an actual vacation. Rest and relaxation. Not going to happen.

Despite the diminishing crime rate, Knightwatch was still on high alert for anything. They were on the lookout for whatever might happen. John knew about some of the reported stuff. Just enough to know what to be watchful for. Not that he expected to find anything, or was hoping to have to deal with any of it. He laughed a bit. Oh wow, he was horrible at this sometimes. "Yeah sure, I'll help you or protect the world or whatever. Just give a few days before making me do it." he said to himself humorously. Well at least he could laugh at himself. That was always helpful. Today was a relaxing day in the outer parts of the city. Oh please let it stay that way.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls…it tolls for thee…
 
(Not important really)
      Two months. Ouroboros had two months before the very essence of Ethereal energy was erased from reality. Two months to live, two months to spend with his new family. Two months to prepare. Ouroboros stood here on this day, looking down on a small mound of dirt with tombstone at the head. He sighed as he ran a hand through his blonde hair, the dark rings under his eyes matching the dark skies overhead. Upon the tombstone was no name, no date, and no caption. Instead there was only an image. The image was a flag, divided into seven sections. Each section was a flag of a different nation or superpower, all of them with small burn marks over them and in the foreground was a clenched fist, blood running down the palm and onto the wrist which was shackled but still free from the broken chain that should have kept it contained.
 
      Ouroboros couldn’t bring himself to leave. Because while one would think him happy that the son of Xarlessa and Atterrius had been removed…part of him was still kept there. Tethered to the fallen Shael. He had two months before his land…the land he created, was under siege. He needed to do something. His “distracted” nature was something to be expected, after all even the most calm and collected men can begin to crumble under enough pressure. Though Ouroboros felt this lingering feeling. It was expected…but it did not excuse him for not being there for his son when he needed him. It angered him, perhaps he was not all he had thought himself to be. A humbling experience…and a bitter one to be sure.
 
     Ouroboros managed to finally take himself from the grave, and slothfully make his way back to the labs, where the occultists and the intellectuals both worked hard to discern the nature of that paradoxical Arm of Ragnarox. He made his way up to the second floor of the large labs, taking his time to reach his own desk, only to sit down, plant his elbows on his desk and bury his face in his hands with a sigh. The door opened, and Ouroboros knew already who it was form the sound the footsteps made upon the ground. It was none other than his youngest, Silus. Ouro’s stomach twisted and knotted. Of course, Silus had always been with Ouroboros, mainly because as a powerless child he needed protection. But those days were over…marked by the day Silus ended Shaels life. Something Ouroboros never wanted to experience in his life time. Lifetime…that’s it…his answer to this problem.
 
     ”What is it Silus?” Ouroboros asked. Silus didn’t say anything. The shy exterior was cute, up until the point Ouroboros was ready to strangle something. Silus was obviously the son he was closest with, but when Shael died…there was a division within him…a schism of sorts. He growled and with a swift swat, Ouroboros sent the flaming magical stones that adorned his desk across the room and into the wall…remembering for a moment whom he was dealing with. He had nothing more to say or do, save for wonder “Why?” to all of this. Why did Shael have to die? Why did Silus have to find “heroes” that he wants to take after so fondly. It made his blood boil. Where did he go wrong? Humanity was a scourge, why would Silus want to defend them? With a roar, Ouroboros walked out, brushing past Silus, making his way for the Ethereal Arch, the device which would give him quick passage.
(End of non-importance)
 
     Walking through the pale green flame, Ouroboros stepped into the windy city of the human domain. Chicago, no better place to find allies and make enemies. Ouroboros  scratched under his chin, his stubbles irritating him. Despite his annoyance for his unkempt appearance at the moment, he had no inclination to rectify that issue, not with as busy as he had been. Ouroboros closed his eyes, the nanites coming from his pores, forming the Visor over his eye. Now with a Visor and an eye patch, Ouroboros began scanning the area for an energy source, and a powerful one at that.  The Visor brought up many energy sources, but Ouroboros had another idea. He pulled up the information of the Ethereal Tulpic theory. He may be able to save them yet…and he had a plan.
 
     Of course, he did not come here for a social call. The Ethereals had two months to prepare for all out war, and Ouroboros was in need of some exercise. Now he just needed to attract the attention of a powerful meta-human….and he knew just how to do it. As clichéd as it sounds, heroes were compelled to protect the innocent right? Well Ouroboros just needs to find a little crime, and wait for someone to come play hero.  He would wander for hours before even hearing the faintest cry for help. With an amused chuckle as he turned down the alleyway to see how long it would take for a hero to appear to save this poor little human. One person against a small group of meta humans wasn't a fair fight, though none of these three meta-humans were anything beyond minor energy. Ouroboros felt deep within him a compulsion to assist the man who was in danger, but he did not. He would not be a hypocrite. Humanity was not worth protecting…beside…he had his own people to worry about. Ouroboros quickly revised his plan in his mind. Find a Hero he could become stronger by fighting them…or Find a Hero that can kill him so that he man begin to put the tulpic theory to the test.

Oh what a wonderful day it was. He then started laughing as soon as that went through his head. John was sitting at a cafe table outside, and his sudden burst of laughter drew the attention of the couple sitting in the neighboring table. Perhaps they thought he was laughing at them. He wasn't. He hadn't even been paying attention to what they had been doing.

"Sorry." he said to them. "I wasn't laughing at you. I just....had a really.....funny...thought and....laughed at....it." he explained to the young couple. Oh, awkward much.

They seemed to accept what he said with a grain of salt and went back to doing....couple things. Yeah, those, whatever those are. "No, no. Don't think of anything you'll hate yourself for later on, or immediately afterwards." he was thinking. Where was his head today exactly? How much sleep did he get last night? What was it, like 2 and a half hours? That's enough for him. Surely it is.

He sat in an uncomfortable, yet amused silence for a few minutes. That waitress needs to get over here and give him his check already so he can pay for this meal and leave. John could have sworn he spent more time waiting for that than he did actually eating. While he waited, he was on his phone doing...practically nothing. It was an older model thing. Really old according to some people. 2016 did not seem that old to him, but technology marches on and all that. "Let's see." No missed calls, no new messages, and his alarm for tomorrow was already set. Six in the morning on the dot. Hopefully it goes off. It didn't the other day, and he would have been late for school had he not already been used to waking up early.

Finally the waitress came with his check. Sheer relief spread through him. More than necessary really. At least he could leave and do, absolutely nothing at this rate besides not sitting here waiting anymore. Not long afterwards he was walking the streets and seeing folks of all kinds along the way. Too many to keep track of. Despite the fact that the general atmosphere around him was not all that great, he was still relatively calm and such. That was until he noticed something that disturbed him greatly.

He remembered that one little thought of his of how crime in this city had been going down a lot in recent times. Cue foot in mouth moment. Just down the road something he didn't want to have happen was happening. Three guys were about to mug some guy, and they were superpowered. That was nowhere near a fair fight. Somebody was going to have to even the odds if that guy had any chance of getting out of that situation. John was so far away from that scene that he was completely unnoticed, and it was too by the people still in his vicinity. How this was not drawing attention was unusual. He was no longer around that crowd in an instant. He was inside some random building along the way, and getting dressed for the occasion in complete secrecy. Once fully costumed he peeked out a window before leaving the building. Forcewave snuck around a couple more buildings before reaching the alleyway they had all entered.

He could hear the usual dialogue of the present situation before him. The man begging, the muggers making threats while hurrying things along in hopes of getting out of there before somebody arrived to stop them. Too late for that though. He was already there to do just that. They first noticed him after he put up a barrier between the man and them. He then noticed somebody else at the other side of the alleyway. What was this guy doing? Just watching? And why did he look so familiar? He knew that face, but from where?

Before he could figure it out, he was interrupted. His attention was diverted back to the three metahuman muggers when one of them attacked him. An aggressive response to his interference. The guy charged at him, and was unsuccessful. Forcewave easily sidestepped him and knocked him to the ground. That martial arts training with the drunk guy paid off once again. He then blasted one of the other two across the alleyway. He was still fine though, just a little bit rattled. The last one just ran for it when he realized they were just outmatched.

Forcewave then turned back to the others. The man that he had just saved was already leaving. Now it was just him and familiar looking guy in that alleyway. The guy he was starting to remember. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asked sarcastically as his memory kicked in. This guy he remembered from that town in Georgia whose name he couldn't be bothered to remember. That town that got attacked by that large cloud of demon army creating death bringing. Oh, that day was crazy, and here was an unfortunate reminder of it. This was Zell, or it was. Who knows if Zell was even still alive by this point. "Well, isn't this a swell place to meet up again?" he asked the guy.

This guy had been staring at him so quietly and all confused like that it was starting to make him feel really creeped out. Just what was it that drew that feeling of confusion upon him? These two had met before, unfortunately. So his existence could not that much of a shock to this person. Forcewave stood there wondering what he was thinking, or about to do. It was just the two of them standing in that alleyway. Mere moments ago there had been six individuals gathered in there. There had been three metahumans attempting to mug some guy. That was until Forcewave pretty much cleaned house all while this guy just stood there and watched.

Yes, he knew this guy. It was one of the people he met in that town in Georgia during that demonic assault upon it. In a matter of minutes this guy had gone from an ally to an enemy. Such a shame, and at such a bad moment. They had barely gotten out of that town alive. Now what? What was he going to do? What was about to happen next? Forcewave contemplated his options. Based on what he knew of this guy, things weren't going to remain as peaceful as they are now. Hm, he remembered that Zell had some equipment that he used and not much else. Was this new version of him the same way? Oh, yeah he was definitely at a disadvantage in terms of preparations. Just what did he want though? There were so many things that could happen next. What now? What should he try to make happen? Forcewave didn't trust this guy. Not in the slightest.

So far all that had happened was a minor snatch of a conversation. Would it even go anywhere? Forcewave stood there with a determined, yet displeased look upon his face under that mask. He just glared at the guy wondering what he was thinking. Finally he spoke. Forcewave listened to every word spoken in response clearly. This guy, he remembered too. That was, nice, he supposed. Maybe not so much. Nonetheless, it was his turn to talk again, so he did. "Yeah, I didn't do that for the fun of it. It's just what I do. Take that one town in Georgia for example. You were there after all. Though I do wonder what happened to you."

.       ”Something happened to me?” Ouroboros quizzed suspiciously as he tried to recall the events surrounding this oh so familiar character. Barely anything, the only thing he could remember was dark skies and the feeling of total dread. The feeling of weakness…One last moment…a moment of total hatred, directed at the Titan. Directed at Sean? The memory he recalled was not his own, rather a fragment of his subconscious mind brought to light, and it made him cringe. He recalled the one who was known as “Zell Atterrius” fighting Sean alongside this John fellow. Why was this Zell Atterrius fellow was so persistent upon his titan’s demise he’d never understand. Though the recollection of Zell Atterrius fighting Sean did resurrect certain memories from his own experiences. His eyes were fixated on the ground, and they narrowed as the sound replayed in his mind, the arm flopping to the ground like an unwrapped ham shank. Zell Atterrius had somehow found a way back simply by meeting that Sam person who was of little consequence. What kind of “resurrection” could Zell make if THIS man were allowed to persist.
 
    ”I think I remember. You fought along side Zell Atterrius. Well, unfortunately what most of the world did not know is that poor little Zell was living on borrowed time. The last time you saw him he was on his last leg. Long story short, it ends with Exit Zell, Enter me.” Ouroboros said, careful to still not exactly say too much. For all this man knew he was some form of demon or a stray spirit possessing the body. He leaned his head forward, pulling himself from the wall with folded arms and a sigh. ”Unfortunately I can’t simply leave this go though. While Zell was content to play the pathetic hero who feels like he makes a difference, I am currently working towards a higher goal. You appear to be at least partially competent, I wonder if you’d humor me?” Ouroboros asked, more of a rhetorical question. He looked to the two unconscious men on the ground. Oh what to do what to do. He poked the one man with his black steam punk strapped boots and gave an intrigued little growl. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was meant to do, he was here to find a challenge, and now he found one.
 
     ”While this has been fun I’m afraid that I’m actually here on business. I’m looking for a Hero, and low and behold I found you. I’m almost sorry about it really.” Ouroboros said. The area around his hand warped, turning shades of bronze, turning to a sort of a film Noir styled look. The color bled down, reality seemed to warp as suddenly a blade appeared in his hand. The blade entered the world, and suddenly a dark energy saturated the atmosphere, causing an unusual feel to the area. Misanthropy, the black blade. A blade ushered into the world by nothing less than the utmost hatred for the human race, and it now the blade rested in the Ethereal King’s grasps. Ouroboros seemed to circle the blade in the air, he looked from John to the two currently downed meta-humans. Ouro let out a light hum of interest, and he turned to watch John as he jabbed the blade into the first man’s arm. The man turned and groaned, Ouroboros stepped over him and went towards the second, which lkay behind John. Ouroboros was not expecting him to allow this, but since when did such things stop him? He activated his Ethereal Transportation belt, moving past the hero towards his current objective. A percise slicing, the blade went down the length of his torso, barely drawing blood. Still keeping his eyes on John. The second that man did anything to stop him, Ouroboros was ready.
 
    The men both doubled over in pain with loud howls of pain, before both of them suddenly stopped, looking up at both Ouro and John. Both pairs of eyes were lit up with the essence, the same essence of Ouroboros, they were uplifted. Ascended into a higher calling. Ouroboros stuck Misanthropy into the concrete beneath them, his hands went behind his back, one hand wrapped around the other’s wrist. ”Follow me.” Ouroboros commanded. The men both stood up, each wound no longer visible, as they looked to Ouroboros, both hesitantly trailing behind him, as he began to circle John.
 
       ”By your lead…” Ouro said a pleasant hum and an amused smirk playing at his lips.

His question had left a major impact on the one who was once Zell. Forcewave stood in that alley watching this untrustworthy and most likely dangerous person curiously. He had gone quiet in deep thought. Thought of what though? What was he thinking about? It seemed his memories were pretty poor. The struggles of his thought process showed upon his face. Would he even remember what happened? Was what he knew so far just bits and pieces of a near forgotten day in his life? Forcewave remembered that day. Major moments like those were ones he had a hard time forgetting about. An ominous dark cloud that hung over an entire town in some forbodding fashion and unleashed a massive horde of demons upon it. He and some others had fought against that army of creatures. Tyuki, that woman that she called "Hermione", Elaine, Nate and his sister, that one other guy and of course Zell, whom this guy had been. Two strange beings had showed up as leaders of that army and then Sean appeared and was the one responsible for all of it. They had barely gotten out alive, and in this case, this guy may not have entirely.

Forcewave continued to wait until he spoke. When he did, it seemed as if in a cruel sense. He claimed that Zell was dead and he was the one in complete control. This bit of information wasn't all though. He wanted something more, and was beginning to reveal it. His true agenda was becoming known to him. Next, it was put into action. "If you're not Zell, then who are you exactly?" he asked of him as the guy started to walk with some purpose in mind. He moved towards the unconscious guy that Forcewave had defeated mere moments ago, and was examining him for some reason. "What is he doing?" he thought as he watched this. He may have to act at this rate. It might soon become imperative to do something about this guy. Put a stop to whatever he had planned before it could even get going. Hesitating would probably be costly. He took a step forward towards the guy when he spoke again.

He said that he had been for a hero of all things, and he found one alright. Yeah, that's something somebody could call Forcewave. Hero was a fitting term. Why though? Why was he searching for one? What did he want? Why was he sorry? He did not like the sound of that. Suddenly the air around him started to distort and soon a blade of some sorts appeared. Some weird energy was leaking from it. He could feel it from here, and it was creepy. A disturbing force exuded from that blade. What now? He was about to do something. Forcewave started to generate some of his own energy in preparation for an incoming attack. It was certainly something he could expect. Though it wasn't the only thing he feared was about to happen. Something else did happen. He stabbed the unconscious man in the arm with the blade. He then started to walk towards Forcewave. As he take a couple of steps in his direction, he suddenly disappeared. Forcewave was surprised by this sudden disappearing act and started to look around for him. His head moved about like it was on a swivel as he searched for him. Then he saw him now next to the other one whom he used the blade on as well. This time he sliced him across the length of his chest. What a sickening sight to behold. What is wrong with this guy? "What are you doing?" he asked, but was pretty much ignored. The two men were suddenly conscious again and giving out cries of agony before becoming silent as their eyes started to glow. What just happened? What did he do to them? This was strange to say the least. Forcewave thought he might already know what had just happened. He had done something to take control of them, and sure enough he had. At his command they rose, and all three of them started to circle him. Forcewave knew what was about to happen next. It was painfully obvious.

Forcewave pulled out his tonfas and prepared to fight. He had a plan. Well, it was kind of a plan. Basically get ahold of that blade and somehow free those two from this strange hold he had over them either by bribing him with it or destroying it. He doubted he'd be able to figure out how it works. Now to execute this plan of action. "If you insist on this supposed higher purpose of yours, then so be it. Let's go." he said before stepping forward quickly and striking at him with the tonfas as his electrical energy surged through him as well.

      He saw it coming; it was an easy one to predict, then again, the first moves always were. It was how the man would react and how he would string his assault along that would be hard to predict. Then again, just because Ouroboros could predict what he would do…he wasn’t entirely sure he had the skill to compensate. Thankfully he did, though it was so strange. This person was on even footing with him when it came to the skills of fighting. Oruo could know what the man was able to do, and still just barely avoid the attack, or he might even be struck at this rate. He left Misanthropy in the ground, knowing full well that the man would be unable to lift it, lacking the appropriate blood type…or at least not without Ouroboros allowing the man to think he had lifted the blade. Truthfully, Ouroboros abandoned the blade simply because he was shocked that he had needed to move out of the way so quickly. He pressed off his foot, hopping back to gain a step more of distance and on the second his foot touched the ground, he pressed off, aiming to jump up into a back flip through the air. He landed and his glowing emerald eyes shifting over John’s body, his stance his joints, looking for weakness or a substantial flaw within him that could be used. He honestly only gave it a half gassed effort, more interested in soaking in the extent of the ability John had.
 
        Ouroboros left the blade for now, he would be fine without it, worst case scenario he needed to summon forth Godsbane, but for now he was content to watch. His full attention fixated on evasion, he didn’t need to worry himself with the process of multi tasking and needing to counter attack, though truthfully he actually needed to fight the urge, as battle just came…so natural. His eyes shifted to his two newest friends, and they ran at John. Ouroboros wondered just how far they could go before he would kill them. Could the heroic kid bring himself to kill the poor creatures? Only time would tell…
 
    

Minions:

The not so friendly conversation between the two individuals in that alleyway had lead to a violent confrontation. There wasn't choice on the matter anyways. One of them wanted a fight, and the other had been left with no other option but to accept. Forcewave was now stuck in a fight with this creepily evil individual whom had once been an ally of his for a short period of time. Possibly for his life. Hopefully things don't turn out the way.

Forcewave had launched the first strike. It generally wasn't his style, but he had no choice. He was really more of a practical fighter than an honorable one anyways. His first attack was a quick straightforward rushing strike. With his tonfas in hand and plenty of backup options already in place, he was prepared for this physical confrontation. The tonfas were aimed at the man's upper torso and head. The sternum and jaw to be more specific. A precise strike to end this quickly. It came up short as the man jumped back to avoid it. He then did a backflip to generate even more space between them. It was something he was hoping for. The moment his feet left the ground, Forcewave shot forward several bursts of energy at him. They arrived long before his feet could ever hope to hit the ground again. This fight might just be over already.

The two mind controlled individuals were now attacking as well. He then looked down at the sword that had been left on the ground due to his sudden attack. That blade was what he used on the two guys Forcewave himself had defeated moments ago. He immediately blasted it apart. The sword was destroyed in an instant. The blade shattered like glass, and with it gone, so were the effects it had on those two. They quickly started to come back to their senses. He wondered if they were even aware of what had just been done to them. Would that sickening deed even be remembered? He could see them looking at the scene before them as they started to become aware of their surroundings. Forcewave wondered what they would do next. Probably just get out of here as fast as they could. The third member of their mugging group had done so at the first sign of trouble. Perhaps they would undertake a similiar course of action. He doubted they would ally with him since he had just prevented their mugging attempt. If they were aware of what had been done to them, they would definitely not ally with that other guy. They'd probably seek vengeance on him. Forcewave looked back towards the one responsible for all of this to see what had happened to him.

Well so this was his game? He was using his head. Ouroboros couldn’t help but smirk, thankfull that finally SOMEONE else out there made use of their brain. This may prove…interesting? Is that the word he was looking for? Either way he could see the energy flying for him. Ouroboros focused, his pupils narrowed and in his mind he unlatched the lock on the energy within him. The Ouroboros tattoo on his arm altered on his flesh, the dragon opening it’s mouth and the tail pulling from it’s mouth. The Limiter on his power, placed upon his father and his posterity by the Powerful group of Magi oh so long ago. While he reveled in the sudden surge of intense power that coursed through his veins, and while he reveled in his ability to overcome the adversity of the Seal upon him, he knew that it was only fleeting, and as such he needed to make use of it…now.

       Projecting his ethereal energy it manifested before him as small shields, only big enough to intercept the electrical strikes on their current trajectory. Ouroboros hummed, interested in the current display of electrical energy. The energy was far more powerful than he anticipated, it seems as though even with the Limiter released, his energy and Johns were equal, canceling each other out. The man attempted to blast Misanthropy with his own energy. Ouroboros was rather shocked when he saw Misanthropy get destroyed. He scoffed, watching the pieces fall. He should have used to Empathy with the blade to call it back to him, no matter. The man probably constituted this as a victory, and if he did it was a mistake for certain. Though Ouroboros made it quite clear with his own response that he was not going to let the man get the better of him.

     ”Do you have ANY idea how many souls it’s going to take to mend the poor thing’s wounds?” Ouroboros asked with a sigh of distain. The Blade was gone? Not a chance, though it looks as though Ouroboros won’t be using it for a little while yet. The blade itself turned into a black smoke and dissipated into the atmosphere. It would need time and energy to reform itself, and at Ouroboros’s current estimation he wouldn’t be seeing Misanthropy any time today, or tomorrow for that matter. Though Ouroboros smirked as the two men looked to him, pale looks on their faces as they looked to him. Where normally reverence and the glow of the Ethereal would be in their eyes…there was nothing. He shrugged at them, as if questioning them what they wanted him to do.

   ”What? Your souls were in the blade, the blade is gone, your souls are gone. Not much I can really do on that matter.” He stated with a carefree and chipper tone in his voice. Well you win some you lose some. Though, having to live without a soul was indeed such a …dreary existence. Ethereal energy began to seep from his hands and while it appeared to simply be dissipating, it was the where it reassembled itself that was of importance. Next that he’d know rings of Ethereal energy around their throats, cutting off their oxygen and suspending them in the air slightly.

    Before anything could save them there was a sickening snap, and the energy phased through them and the bodies dropped to the ground. ”Life without a soul…devoid of all purpose in life… That’s no way to live, they’re better off…trust me.” He sighed. Ouroboros held up a hand and the Ethereal “rings” used to end the With the playing field even, Ouroboros allowed his Limiter to return. He moved his Hydraskin trench coat, revealing a belt with seven hilts attached The seven Ethereal swords, each one belonging to a different Swordsman. Each one met their end to Misanthropy, and as such Ouroboros collected their “blades”. The second he took two from the belt, each one formed a different blade of a different light. In his left hand there was a deep purple fire burning into a pale glowing blade, and in the right hand there was a sea green color with a pale heavenly yellow glow to it.

     Ouroboros flourished both blades before charging in at John, though he did not do so recklessly, he was very careful to be mindful of the surrounding area. After all, he did not take a lightning strike to the back or from the skies, or from anywhere else for that matter. With his Limiter back on, and the release mechanism recharging Ouroboros began to close in. This man had fighting ability equal to his, and an energy equal to his. The difference being that Ouroboros could only use his energy for so long, this man had no true limit that Ouroboros had seen thus far. It was going to be entertaining day, that he was certain of.