Eternal Damnation to All Those Who Stand Against Us

A blue light filled the room, scanning its inhabitant and everything else in the room, that being a bed made of a supposedly indestructible polymer blend, specifically tailored to the individual inside of the cell. Once the blue light had finished its examination, confirming that there there was no radiation, toxins or weapons inside of the room, the wall farthest from the bed weakened in its structure, allowing for a door sized panel to be moved out. Inside walked a man of slightly below average stature, with a thick build, garbed in a dark blue uniform, that would send out neurotoxins to anyone touching it without the guard’s DNA as soon as his vitals were affected. This was just one of many security measures taken by the Houston International Metahuman Detainment Center, one that was added after a villain intercepted a convoy of three metahumans being transported to the center, one of whom escaped and was now loose to cause damage as they wished.

The guard sneered as he entered, speaking in a voice both too loud and condescending. “Get up asshole, it’s time for your exams,”. The prisoner glared up from the bed to which he was chained. Standing up, he turned around and spread his legs six inches, with his hands on the wall, though they couldn’t be spread; his hands were bound by handcuffs composed of the same  polymer blend that made the bed, his chains connecting him to the bed and even the walls. The guard roughly patted the prisoner down, before reaching down and firmly gripping the chain where it connected to the bed, his fingerprints dissolving the connection that would be reestablished later. Shoving the prisoner out of the cell, the guard led him to the medical examination ward.

Once inside, three doctors began taking the prisoner’s vital signs, though all of these were done by external examination or with the use of X-rays; the prisoner’s skin was simply to hard to pierce, and so blood samples had to come from incisions made on the tongue by a syringe coated with diamonds, and even that had to be replaced weekly because of damage. As soon as the samples were taken the prisoner’s tongue healed itself, as it always did, and always would. The tests were not all that unusual, however the cause for them was; Radiated xerohemolysis fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva. One of the world’s rarest diseases, it had only ever affected one patient, that being this prisoner. A result of extremely durable and regenerative cells, years of high level drug and toxin abuse, as well as a mistake in prenatal genetic modification created this unique ailment.

This ailment, combined with the “cure” the researchers at this facility (and those outsourced) had produced a set of very curious symptoms that kept the doctors very busy investigating. It had narrowed the medulla oblongata, pons and mesencephalon all by a fraction of a millimeter, doing very little (if any) damage to brain functions, however it did severely reduce the reaction time of the prisoner (to that of an above average human, as before the disease he had possessed superhuman reflexes) and had completely eradicated the need for sleep. This was the most interesting of the neurological effects to the doctors; the patient still experienced an equivalent to REM sleep, however it was done while fully conscious, for a few minutes every few weeks.  Physically, the patient had experienced an exponential growth in strength, as a result of extreme muscular thickening, combined with several new molecules of previously unknown elements coursing through his body at high rates, as a fluid that dissolved within his blood. In addition to all of this, the man’s bones had thickened slightly and elongated, adding half of a foot to his height.

The exams took, as usual, forty-five minutes, at the end of which the guard came and forcibly took ahold of the prisoner, beginning to escort him back to the cell. At one point, the prisoner stumbled as he walked, causing the guard to walk into him, hitting his nose on the back of the prisoner’s back  in the process.  Blood poured out, down onto his lip and chin.“God dammit, keep walking you son of  a bitch!”, he snarled, wrenching the man’s wrists forward and into his spine. The prisoner’s nostrils flared, yet he remained silent, as he always did.

Upon returning to the room, the guard released the door and chained the prisoner back to the bed, then leaned down and whispered into his ear, the words coming out harshly, with more menace than Asmodeus could ever hope to muster. The prisoner’s eyes widened as far as they were capable of going, and he reeled around, catching the guard off of his guard, not leaving the man time to react. In under a second the prisoner had the guard’s throat between his handcuffs and his chest, tightening them to the point of cutting off all circulation to the guard’s throat. “I will end your pathetic mortal existence right here, Desmond, if you do not open these handcuffs right now.” He tightened them even more, blocking out the bloodflow to the brain almost entirely. Desmond’s uniform began secreting the neurotoxin onto the prisoner’s skin, merely causing him to become angrier. “Do you really think that would stop me?”.

Desmond, now realizing he would die if he did not comply, reached up and grabbed the handcuffs, causing them to release their hold on the prisoner’s hands. As soon as his hands were freed, the prisoner grabbed Desmond’s throat and shoulder, shoving him forward. “ Now,” the prisoner growled, “the door.” The guard, now near unconsciousness,  quickly did as he was told. When the door opened, the prisoner stepped outside, tightening his hold on Desmond’s neck for a fraction of a second, snapping his spine instantly, his body dropping to the floor.

Samuel Chambers looked down at the corpse in disgust. “I never said I wouldn’t kill you.”

Michael had been following his favorite little partner in crime ever since he had returned from his interdimensional journey, even with all of the trouble that he was dealing with. It may have been an uneasy keeping track of, but that was what he was doing, looking through multiple records from the seedy ones to arrest records that he could get his hands on. It took a long time, but he had managed to find something, one of his little criminal metahumans bringing him the records about the metahuman known as Samuel. Michael considered the envelope with a discerning eye, silver orbs looking over them from behind dark sunglasses, dressed in his typical manner. A pink polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts, resting against the chair as he popped his neck and yawned, running a finger over a scar that ran upwards along the right side of his jaw. ”Well now, can’t have you stuck in prison now can we?” Michael muttered with a smirk, rolling a small vial filled with red liquid between index and middle finger. ”I guess that means I’ll have to….save you.” Michael muttered slowly unscrewing the cap of the vial and letting it pour back into his mouth, feeling a small pleasant buzz fill his entire body, followed by euphoria.

His body had grown to crave the substance, ever since he had begun to use it upon returning to this realm, before he had went to combat Raziel for the final time. He remembered how it felt to kill Raziel, the pleasure he felt as the liquid would slide down his throat and hit his stomach, seeming to spread along his entire system without wasting any time. Standing to his feet, he would turn to his latest and perhaps most useful of lieutenants, an ethereal with a strange power that made him useful overall with what Michael wanted him to do. He was a young male of around seventeen, blond with opulent green eyes and always a happy expression upon his face, hands held behind his back as he looked to Michael waiting for some manner of order. ”Okay, I want you to set up a plane for Houston, Texas and one that I can be on within the hour.” The male would smile and then nod, turning around and leaving Michael within his own room, removing the glasses as the small scar under his left eye became visible.

”Sir, the flight will be ready in ten minutes for you.” His attendant would note, peering in and allowing Michael enough time for him to get ready, slipping out of the room and following after the attendant, driving him to the port in a black vehicle. Michael sat in the back, legs crossed and watching the city move by and within a matter of moments he found himself on a plane, sitting first class and considering a fine bottle of wine, and something in a small plastic bottle. Unscrewing it, he would up end it as various colored pills would spill into his right hand, Michael forcing all of them into his mouth, forcing the top off of the wine and downing a large portion with a few gulps. He felt as if something would not go down for a moment, before managing to swallow that and lean back against the chair, feeling the effects slowly creep over him, the proper cocktail giving him a sweet numbness that he could not deny.

His stomach would tingle for a moment, and while this would have likely killed a human, but it did nothing more than give him the buzz a far greater dosage would have given a lesser man. He could feel the eyes of his attendant upon him, but if he did have a problem with that, he would not vocalize it. Riding upon the high that was washing over him, Michael let his eyes move to the window that was next to him, clouds soaring alongside him like fluffy white clouds. He eventually blacked out into a dreamless sleep, and by the time that he woke up the plane had already landed, beams of sunlight shining upon his cheeks as as it began to set, casting warmth along his skin and feeling wonderfully warm. Without even needing to be told, he would stand to his feet and feel a small wave of exhaustion hit him, not that he would fall, but just blink for a couple of seconds.  ”Okay, we will get to work on that little prison break plan of ours now.” Michael noted with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Stepping out of the plane, he would look to the setting sun and smirk, already having in mind where he would find this little prison, as a metahuman prison would not be too hard to find.

The planning itself would not take too long, and soon enough they would lead a mission to “save” this metahuman of his as he and his associate would trail along towards the large prison. Michael buried his hands into his pockets and hummed lowly to himself, the blond standing behind him with a silent bemused expression, tapping his foot against the ground. ”So, would you rather I make a distraction or…?” he would ask, Michael looking to him and nodding, which the male smiled to as he stepped forward and sighed. ”Very well, I’ll give them a show.” He noted with a smile as the energy would begin to build around him, and within an instant he would disappear in a puff of bright mist landing within the middle of the prison yard with a smirk, hands buried into his pockets, With but a motion, a burst of energy would unleash from his hand and cause a great explosion as it slammed into a wall.

While this went on, Michael would then be able to slip into the compound and then get to work on searching for the person he was looking to break out.

The cliche would state here that a single tear poured out of Samuel's eye, then ran down his cheek. However, it was not one tear, but three; two from his left eye, one from his right. What...what kind of monster have I become? He had commited murder before, but never without a reason he could justify, at least to himself. As the last of the tears fell, however, he became aware of something truly perturbing inside of himself. He didn't care. That realization shocked him for a span of exactly eight tenths of a second, before his mind hardened, his heart turning to stone. For the past few months he had been a changed man, as the result of several events coming together, however the death of Desmond was the catalyst behind his realization that no matter what he did, from this point forward, he was nothing like the man he had been before. Samuel Matthew Chambers had died, along with several other people this year. The change was subtle at first, but now glared him in the face; irreversible, and most certainly for the worse. Unfortunately, c'est la vie.

Odien reached down, in what could at first be seen as an attempt at to pay his respects to the corpse before him. That is, if they hadn't looked into his face, and seen the scorn and derision written on it. He spat onto the body formerly belonging to Desmond, then began to frisk it, searching for anything that might aid him in the minutes to come. Samuel had no doubt whatsoever that his acts had been witnessed by one of the millions of cameras stationed throughout the hallway, and so it was only a matter of seconds before the other guards in the facility came to apprehend him. There was also little chance now that they would attempt to recapture him; the scientists had enough of his DNA to last them several lifetimes, and his corpse would be almost as valuable as he was alive. If I'm going to die, it would be better to do so taking some of the bastards out with me than as a sniveling coward holed up in my cell.

An wave of seismic energy rippled through the floor beneath him and walls beside. Either a huge earthquake had just struck, peculiar for Houston, or an explosion had gone off somewhere within the compound. The first would make for a more badass death, going out with earthquakes and preferably a flaming building, with bridges breaking apart everywhere. The latter, however, would mean someone else was breaking in and/or out of the prison, which would make his current endeavor significantly easier; an enemy divided is an enemy conquered. Unfortunately there was no weapon in Desmond's uniform. Odien had expected as such, as guards were not allowed firearms within the compound, for situations just like this. Still disappointing. That was, until he noticed a slight shaving off of the back of one of his boots. Samuel grabbed the rubber heel, and with a slight wrench separated it from the rest of the shoe, revealing a small pistol, no larger than one of his hands-energy based, like all weapons used here.

A savage grin grew upon the face of the Metahuman. Desmond you rule breaking bastard, you may have just saved my life.. Odien stood and straightened to his full height, nearly seven feet, and glanced down the hallway in both directions. The explosion came from the right, so he would head left, stepping over the body as shouts came from the distance, approaching his current location.

Michael found slipping into the prison far easier than he would have expected, having already entered before any alarms were set off, though he did not remember doing anything that would set them off. The hallways were threadbare and in some ways Spartan in design, but they did their jobs with a certain efficiency. His slow, deliberate footsteps would ring through the hallway with a certain gravitas as Michael moved along hoping he would not have to waste any time on humans and their pathetic guards, though he had a feeling they would come soon enough. Yet soon enough he would hear what sounded like loud stomping footsteps through the hallway and in his direction of all places, which meant that he would meet a little token resistance. Michael rolled his eyes, popping his shoulder joints and preparing himself mentally as the first would move around the corner, all garbed in black. Without even wasting time, he became like a blur, moving through the open space and closing the distance between the two as if it were easy. An elbow would slam into the humans face with a deafening crack, as his head snapped to the side, and his body was slammed against the wall.

Within an instant he would pause within his attack, appearing within the humans line of sight as the body if one of them would slump to the ground as worthless as a ragdoll, Michael quickly pivoting upon his heels as the cold silver eyes would turn upon them. It was within that second they saw what appeared to be bloodlust within this unknown teenagers eyes, and then within that second he was gone, one hand clamped around a throat and then twisting, ending another life and then slamming a foot into another in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of them and possibly causing internal bleeding. Killing them felt almost like crushing bugs, and the titan within him relished the chance to do so, soaking up the nether as it would form, glowing purple runic markings forming along his flesh, vine like in appearance as he couldn’t help but chuckle. He could feel the darker nature rising within him, and it thirsted to give the humans a slow death rather than the mercy that he was showing them with the quick brutal blows.

Yet raising one foot he would kill the downed guards by smashing his head like a ripe fruit. Blood would gush from the neck, spurting as it would pool along the floor and the remaining two would looking upon him with absolute horror, as he would look up to them with a smile that could kill. ”I wonder how many guards I would need to break to get information…..” he paused as they would turn to run away but they were nowhere near fast enough. The will to move was all it took as he was in motion, slamming one of them face first into the wall with a crack, letting the corpse fall to the ground as Michael then slammed one against the wall by his back, just enough to jar them, yet they would live. ”Ding ding ding, you win the prize. Now my friend, I’m looking for a metahuman, goes by the name Samuel Chambers, have you seen him?” he gulped, looking to the male with a hand pressed against his chest, one that could break is bones with impunity.

“Fuck off you meta freak!” he would say, bravely almost, but that would not go well with the titan that was now running through him. His hand would trail down the males chest,stopping at the groin, and garnering a look from the male. “What are you, some kind of fa…”

”Yes, some kind of fag.” Michael noted with a smirk, letting the fingers grip and feeling nerves and flesh crush underneath. ”I do so love the feel of this. Hell, I have a hard on right now, but sadly I don’t fuck eunuchs.” he noted as the males expression turned shocked, falling to the ground and clutching his groin, blood beginning to pool, forming a red stain upon their pants. Kicking the human hard in the face, Michael would turn from this section of the hallway and continue walking. ”Hey Sammeh! Where the hell are you?” Michael called out, cupping his hands around his mouth and making sure that he could be heard above the sound of sirens. Behind him stood a scene of carnage, blood having soaked into the lower portion of his shorts, and staining his legs, making Michael look like some sort of monster, and he was. He could feel the bursts of ethereal energy that characterized his ally keeping the humans busy, or at least the ones that mattered, though he had wished that Chris came along as well. Something told him that the male would have enjoyed this little venture.

The strange, elemental wall was pressed against the back of Odien as he slouched, waiting by the hallway’s corner. Four, three, two, one..., he counted mentally. A few milliseconds after he reached one, three heavily armed men came storming around the corner. Samuel launched himself at them, knocking directly into two, pushing them towards the last member. The men were taken by surprise, though their training quickly took over and they recovered their senses; little good it did them, having sustained injury in the assault by a Meatshield Battering Ram.

Between them they shared a fractured collarbone, two broken ribs, a sprained ankle and three concussions. “Millions of taxpayer dollars spent to make body armor for you people, and it can’t protect against anything but bullets. Perhaps your sacrifice will serve a better purpose then; who knows, they may even name a jockstrap after you.”. Odien sardonically grinned down at the lesser humans beneath him, relishing the control he now possessed. He had no idea how long he had been held in captivity, and even though his arrest had been voluntary at first, months (or years) of physical and mental turmoil were finally being released. Jeremy Taylor once said “Revenge is like a rolling stone, which, when a man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with a greater violence, and break those bones whose sinews gave it motion.”. Well it’s a damn good thing my bones always heal, he thought to himself, producing a laugh that would have caused Kali to blanch.

The first man fired his weapon from the ground, releasing a surge of energy that knocked Odien back several feet. This caused his pupils to dilate in rage, and he leapt across the floor, landing heavily on the man, most likely causing internal injury. Samuel struck his hand out, grasping the man’s throat with his index finger on his jugular, and gave his arm a rapid jerk upwards, separating head from body. Blood and other bodily fluids disgorged rapidly from the wound at first, then began to pool around the body. The tear was not clean, like in the movies; while the had and most of the neck was gone, several inches of jagged, mutilated flesh remained, becoming more bloodstained by the second. The cervical vertebrae could be seen on both ends, head and neck, as Odien held the cranium and its surrounding flesh in one hand.

With a violent flick of his wrist, the head slammed down into the chest of one of the other guards. The armor absorbed some of the impact, however a great deal still reverberated through the man’s body; the helmet his former brother-in-arms had been wearing helped none with the damage. The breaking of bones was audible, as the man just assaulted drew shaky breaths, before he died of rapid asphyxiation due to bleeding in the lungs. Samuel walked over to the last man, this one barely stirring from unconsciousness to look up, bewildered, at the monolith before him. Odien’s imagination was flourishing, like that of Poe in Hell, of ways to end this last man’s poignant life-evisceration was the leading idea at the moment. A shout a few hundred yards away disrupted this thought process; a voice he was certain he had heard before, calling out his name. Samuel frowned and looked back at the man below him, who was finally coming out of his stupor. With a frustrated sigh, he said to the man, “It seems our time here is cut short. Godspeed on your journey to wherever the Hell you’re going.” A corner of his mouth raised ever so slightly at the unintentional pun, as he lashed out and savagely kicked his feeble adversary, sending the body crashing into the wall; death by blunt force trauma.

Their bodies were now useless, however the other offerings they had made to the God that had slain them were quite the opposite. Samuel Chambers gathered two of the large guns possessed by the men, attaching the one from Desmond to the barrel of the one in his hand. Magnetic weaponry that fires plasmic blasts...God bless our security system. Picking up, adjusting the size of, and wearing one of the guard’s helmets (obviously not the one he had beheaded), Odien walked past the two closest corpses, and over the mangled corpse who had met its end at his foot, and walked down the corridor to meet whoever from his past had decided to make a welcoming committee.

Michael let the nether of the dead guards wash through him like q cleansing flood, washing away petty emotions and petty concerns. It was times like this that he remembered that nether was greater than any drug, and how it killed all pain was almost orgasmic, which made a few things auspicious about his physiology. The still warm feel of blood coating his legs was what next drew Michael’s attention, as he looked down and could not help the smile, chuckling ominously as he ran a finger along the leg and considered the blood that coated the digit. Rubbing thumb against index finger, Michael would place the index in his mouth and suck on it for a moment before removing it and grimacing. ”Bleh, how the hell do vampires drink this shit?” He spat, coughing a little before shaking his head and continuing with his walk. Tapping his ear, he would remember that he had an ear piece and could communicate with that ethereal that came along with him.

”Yo, hows the whole distraction business goin?’ Michael would speak into the receiver, and a voice would answer on the other end.

”Pretty good actually, this human security is pretty lax for a metahuman prison.” A reply would come, followed by a loud explosion. It seemed that his ally had everything under control, so that meant Michael could continue his search for the nearly indestructible met shield that he called his ally. Without even wasting time he would walk round the corner, and find someone rather familiar within his line of sight, a small smirk forming upon his lips as he approached the male with a slow pace.

He was carrying rather scary guns, but Michael had a feeling that he would not attack him, not so blatantly at least. Even with his body, Michael would have no problem disarming him with greater speed, and possibly strength. ”Heeeellllo Sam, long time no see.” Michael said pleasantly with a wide grin and presenting himself in a non-threatening manner.

Samuel stared blankly at the diminutive male before him. He addressed Odien in a familiar manner, and yet his face was, to make a play on words, unfamiliar. Either the two had never met, and the other male knew him from some other outside source, or they had, and the frayed memory that was Odien’s could not place the face before him. The voice, however, was irritatingly memorable, if only he could place it...

The recollection happened nearly instantaneously, though in reality it had taken his brain several nanoseconds to process the information. Michael, Hyperion, Angel Boy. The Ethereal. A bank robbery in California, a much more dangerous escapade in Florida. They departed at the time of Samuel’s voluntary detainment. How strange, that in his entire time here, not once had the name “Michael” crossed his mind; though, were one to be “fair” in this situation, Samuel had been preoccupied with thoughts of a far more concerning matter during his incarceration.

The living statue cocked his head slightly to the side, and narrowed his eyes at Mike. “You...yes, it has indeed been a rather long time since we departed. How long though, exactly? I know not how much time has passed since the date of my capture.” Odien lowered the guns, no longer threatening the Ethereal before him, though most certainly not being openly cordial either. This man was an ally, however that word no longer meant “Friend”. It was dubious as to whether the word would ever be used again, for Samuel to refer to someone else.

His eyes appraised Michael; several things were off. He had a very different air about him now, and had...shrunk? Was that possible?

Upon retrospect, Michael took note of the male and how he appeared remarkably taller than Mike last remembered him being. His eyes widened for a moment, just long enough to show that he was surprised by something, even though that something was not too obvious. Each movement the male made was slow, and gave him enough time to evaluate every motion for signs that he planned to attack, yet he was lucky enough to not have that happening. ”Around a few months actually, I was wondering why you hadn’t answer my attempt to contact you. I think this whole thing explains a lot.” Michael noted with a small smirk, seeming to bridge the distance with a brisk pace, hands buried into his pockets as he took a deep breath. Looking up to the male, he cocked his head to the side and smirked slightly.

”Nice to know my not so gentle giant is doin good.” he chuckled now only standing a few feet from the meatshield, and humming softly as he looked over his accomplice. ”Speaking of giant, why are you so tall?” Michael asked with a raised brow, tapping his feet softly against the ground as another explosion would rock the prison. His runes would begin to pule softly as Michael seemed to remember something, and he chuckled. Without really needing a visible prompt, he would leap into the air and for a lack of better terms “laid it on” Samuel before turning upon his heels, and walking along. ”Pay back aside, I came here to get you out. So come along.”