[EVENT] Blacker than Night [DE Chance]

It had all started with another one of her visions. Last week, Pitta had woken up in a cold sweat after seeing a rather gruesome scene somewhere in an unspecified forest. Bodies, blood, something malevolent trying to tear its way out of what appeared to be a completed summoning ritual, and still more carnage to come. MUCH more carnage…

Lo and behold, the witch started to hear word that something big was happening in South City. When she started to look into it, she quickly realized that ‘big’ was a massive understatement. It might have been enough to cover the mass evacuations and military lock down. The group of crazy cultists, stone slab of questionable origins, and average citizens suddenly being given the strength and abilities of seasoned martial artists definitely put things over the top.

It hadn’t taken long for things to devolve into sheer pandemonium. That part should have been a given though. You don’t just give a bunch of random yahoos superhuman abilities under mysterious circumstances and expect them all to behave themselves. Even Pitta herself had felt a sudden spike in her attunement with her magic. The feeling was invigorating, but far too clouded by the sense of dread that everything else had left her with.

That had been the reason that she had gotten on her broom and sped her way to South City to try and meet up with the military. The witch really wasn’t looking forward to working with them. They were far too loud and uptight for her tastes. Still, Pitta knew she would just have to get over it. They were probably going to be her best bet if she was going to have any hope in figuring out what the hell was going on. As soon as she hit the city limits, she followed the signs and officials giving directions to wherever it was that the people affected by these strange circumstances were supposed to be meeting. With every step she took, she gritted herself and tried to ignore the barrage of thoughts that she was getting in over her head on this one.

Whoever these whack-job cultists thought that they were, they were messing with shit that nobody had any business messing with. Pitta needed to make sure that they were taken care of.

---

Pitta's Current PL: 17,500

Strangely, among the recent chaos of South City, it didn't appear to hold off a particularly busy man. That man was squared away atop a local skyscraper, within a cheap lawn chair, and leaning back against a roof exit. Oddly enough, however, that man was without his titular penguin partner. Then again, who knew where Empy went when out of sight. Regardless, Alexander Hope puffed out a breath of air from a lukewarm chocolate cigar. Afterwards, however, the Father took a prompt bite out of the nearest end.

"Heh... this tastes like shit."

Chuckling to himself aside, however, it was fortunate that the "sudden evacuation" went as smoothly as it did. Alexander turned, abruptly spitting out the mediocre treat. With a splort, the evident waste of food struck across the surface of an arm. Within Lex's gaze: a whole heaping mass of bodies. Its not like those news reports were entirely wrong. If anything, this was pest control. Several of those corpses had wounds streaking throughout their fingers. Others, their palms. A very select few were unfortunate enough to get a few right out the groin. The Father haphazardly failed to twirl his pseudo-cigar; only to flick the remainder of it into the pile. A click of the tongue was audible. Oh well.

Nonetheless, the majority of these morons kept a fancy little gunshot wound directly through their skulls. Typically, this was in range of the forehead. Lex softly chuckled again, reminding himself. A few of them honestly had "fiveheads", instead. Anyway, catching the lot of them off-guard enough to pop them wasn't terribly difficult. Most of them were too busy flexing their new superpowers, causing wanton property damage, or worse: littering. They best appreciate the 688ƶ going through them every shot.

Currently, Alexander had already cleaned up his personal effects. Leftover casings, the weapon itself, the bodies were up here, the cleanup crew had been called in just a moment ago, etc. Its been a long while since he'd done this solo. Cathartic, in a fucked up way. Well, on that note --! The Father lurched forward, rising to his feet with a minute gusto. A major street, less than kilometer beneath Alexander, was littered with military officers and soldiers alike. Whether or not they were having any difficulty wasn't of any immediate concern, though. Briefly glancing over the appropriately facing ledge, the Father returned to procure his mobile device.

With a swipe, several windows' worth of information flooded the interface. Cultists, misleading misinformation, a leaked military report, death threats, stone slabs, oh my! It was a dreadful last few months for Earth indeed. With as much luck as the Human race has had recently, they'd be lucky to not see more Ancient Saiyans in the middle of this muck! But Alexander digressed, among numerous, albeit similar thoughts. The cultists' announcement was both intriguing and strangely confident of them. Weren't "hidden in the shadows" "for their god" "spread chaos and evil" type lunatics like them supposed to be quieter about it? Organized crime in West City has been just a smidge more discreet than these fellows were, even if it was one measly speech.

Oh well. It was easier to find holes in their plans that way. In theory, at any rate. Meanwhile, a trio of airships began to descend within South City airspace. Each of them were unbranded. One approached the same, towering building Alexander was camping out upon. Another lowered in parallel; easing suspicion as it hovered beside another skyscraper across the street. The third, in the meantime, eased up against the center of the occupied asphalt. Lowering the back hatch exit, a humongous figure revealed himself. Helmet in his right arm, a cheerfully gesturing hand perpendicular to it: Arved af Boene had arrived!

Arved Boene is a Hope House weapons specialist with an oddly, albeit strongly positive reputation in East City. Unlike Sam Aeil, however, his recorded good deeds are no inconvenient accidents. Additionally, Arved is one of the House's three primary "Captain" rank family members. The reason as to why he was here? Both for a specialty of his, alongside the antithesis of that: the possibility of combat encounters, and gathering intel. That powered armor of his wasn't just for personal protection and performance enhancement.

"Sir, is this all?"

The airship that was near to Alexander had deployed a handful of "Soldier" rank family members that took to cleanup.

"Did you take one of their shits, too? ...Did a dog start eating it?"

A pause, glancing at the one that blurted that. The lot of them were garbed in anti-hazard gear, concealing their visages. Unfortunately, Alexander recognized that voice to be Lug. The retort began gently.

"Yes Bett, that's all for now. Hey, Lug, that's just a bit of chocolate. Get your fuckin' eyes checked!"

"Its hot as piss out and you're telling me to go get my eyes checked?!"

"Yeah, and go find some actual dog shit while you're out. Maybe then you wouldn't have a go look at a mirror for a frame of reference!"

"Aw, shit, Boss..."