HIs name is Clayton Charles, currently an inmate in the federal detaining wing of Rykers Island, awaiting a transport to a federal facility after having been caught and charged with the murders of a family of 5. This heinous act was carried out under the order an even more notorious crime figure by the name of Anthony Spirelli, leader of Spirelli Crime Family, one of the most influential crime organizations still operating in the country to date. Having been caught and very much guilty of the crime he was sought after, one would think the justice system prevailed in it's purpose save for the fact that the Federal Government is looking to cut a deal with this individual in exchange for a reduced or possibly even vacated charges due to the knowledge he possesses about the crime family, and Hard-Data believed to had been in his possession that was hidden, securely before his capture. Data that would directly implicate the Head of the family himself in being DIRECTLY involved in everything from Murder, Prostitution, racketeering, to gun running and human trafficking. Some believe under no circumstances should the lives lost NOT be considered. No information in this mans possession equates to the value of a life. Especially when 4 of the 5 lives that were taken were children, who were not only killed, but presumably sexually assulted and tortured before the eyes of their mother-----in an attempt to send a message and get information on the where about of her husband and his business dealings, information SHE NEVER EVEN HAD. 

That husband would later return home to find his family massacred, and a message made clear. This man wasn't punished because he owed the Spirelli family or was even in business with them. This mans family was killed because he REFUSED. He chose NOT to succumb or give in to criminal demands to fork over property and business dealings he owned so that they could be used for the facilitation of criminal activity. A stance most wouldn't take. So when this particular contract came across Romulus' table and the information behind it was looked into by himself, he took a particular interest, he also took the Fee required for the services requested. That man, that stand up and righteous figure. That....FATHER. Paid for justice, and he was going to get it. 

-----Final Prisoner City Transport -- 10:33pm

The last prisoner transport for the day had pulled in through the security check-points without a hitch and after it's occupants off loaded, had been pulled and parked next to several other busses and turned in for the night. Silent, devoid of immediate presences and clear of any lines of sight beneath the bus his large frame would have relaxed his efforts and allowed his back to touch the ground where he would slide out and from under it and remain in a crouched position. His infiltration onto the island had been an absolute success and from here on he needed only to make it to the holding cell. Romulus as usual came dressed for this particular occasion. 


[Closest Visual Comparison. No Red. All Black, Two Eye sockets, Not One.]


The Infiltrator Suit. A product of his creation, and a combination of several owned manufacturer patents and the financial resources to produce this lightweight tactical suit consisting of Boron Carbide Composite Armor over his vitals, modular locked and placed onto a Titanium dipped Kevlar Tri-Weave fitted 1-Piece Jump Suit. Lightweight, Ballistics and kinetic resistant, flame retardant with a vastly reduced IR and Bio-Static field signature which greatly compliments Romulus' physical attributes and abilities. The highly reinforced Helm was modular locked and air tight with a built in filtration system, Poly-Visual Lenses with telephoto capabilities and SAT-Connectivity and a base Envrio-Telemetry and Bio-Metrics engine for the Operating system it uses. The same system which at the moment was uploading the schematics to this entire facility and rendering a 3D-Model in the HUD, and highlighting the location. At the moment the only thing that stood between him and his objective were several dozen of what was considered the WORST correctional facility employees, concrete and security doors, not nearly enough to keep him, the only decision to be made at the moment was how was he to go about it and if anyone else needed to DIE for him to procure this objective. 

Romulus emerged peered around the bus and looked up, just outside of the Rose M Singer center, 1 of several maximum security facilities on the island and his current point of contention, as he was right at the release port, shy just 50 yards, more then 200 yards shy of the closest guard tower. It was at that point that a Loud BUZZING sound could tear into the night silence, indicating the Release-bay doors were soon to be opening and it was at that point Romulus made a move. Fleeting from around the bus and going into a full bore sprint the man was nothing short of a marvel to watch move even at 7' and well over 400lbs of Romulus' unique and mystically reinforced physique - attributed provided for a superhuman-pace of movement, clipping the 50-yard gap in seconds rounding a bend and going full bore toward the final exit fence which he barrels through and plows towards the door. His foot-falls like machine gun-fire against the concrete that cracked under the balls of the combat boots, before anyone could come through those doors, a loud audible---

BOOOOM!!!!!!

The shock of the impact flooded the building, even the electricals flickered. The doors and wall framing were all torn to pieces and the doors had gone flying to  the sides and slammed forcefully into the waiting walls. With dust and debris rise and thickening in the air, all that could be seen was two glowing red eyes staring from a 7' tall black obscurity standing erect and assessing the half dozen correction officers in the room. The dust would begin to inevitably settle, and he would come into full view, and at the moment of his reveal absolute panic would set over the guards one of which was able to find the mental clarity to HIT the panic button and sound the alarm and set things off.------IT BEGINS NOW.

In the throws of immediate combat, the current situation was quickly assessed by the Titan. 6 personell present to match the 5  inmates that were scheduled for release at the moment. 1 Guard behind the right side wall concrete wall inlayed by 1" thick ballistics glass in the control room that controlled the doors large steel doors 200' away at the rear most of this room, that left 5 guards standing in his immediate vicinity left with the quick decision to make as to whether they were going to actively do their jobs or listen to the survival instinct absolutely pleading with them to run. HIs presence weighed down on everyone in the room with an insurmountable weight. It froze the mind and muscles, keeping once sound and confident guards GRIPPED solid and fast with fear, unable to even pick self preservation except for the rear most guard whom at the behest of the sounding alarm immediately jumped on this <COMM> unit and began screaming for reinforcements---sealing his fate and those of the 4 others with him. This courageousness must have been contagious, the front most guard would to find some form of sanity and sound mind to act, pulling his riot-club free of it's sheath and storming toward Romulus with the intent of connecting with the left side of his helmet only for the club to be caught mid-flight, snapped in half like a twig and in an act of superior dexterity spun 180 degrees 3 times while Romulus stepped in and arranged the meeting with the jagged-side with the guards temple--impaling him straight through his skull and pushing him off to his right, the left foot he lead with, now supporting the weight of a spinning back kick that lands squarely and with so much force that it breaks the sternum of the guard and catapaults him into another guard, narrowly missing the third who dives out of the way before both of their bodies slam into the waiting steel door at the end.

Romulus is upon that evader, who'd upon standing would find his neck in a vice grip of an armored left hand, effortlessly plucking the 260lb man off the ground and raising him up and into the air where he'd hang and kick frantically for air. Romulus was not obliging, in fact he'd carry the man over to the guards booth where the 6th guard----a woman, gripped with fear and unable to move was unable to heed the obvious desires of the guards blaring over the radio for her to open the doors or initiate lock-down procedure. While Romulus stood there, fleeting life in his left hand still kicking but with quickly fading vigor he spoke through the helm of the black mask. "Unlock all of the doors between here up to the central both. I will not ask you twice, just like I didn't ask this guy at all..." 

-SNAP!!!!!!!!!!!-

It takes only 8lbs of pressure to snap bones in the spine at angle to cut the cord----Romulus could generate that in spades with a flick of the wrist. The mans lifeless body was slammed and pinned against the Glass for her to see----And she obliged. Upon hearing the systematic release of magnetic locks on door after door after door, Rom would have tossed the body aside but kept his gaze on the woman, whom was to fearful to stare back, trying her best to deny herself any further trauma. Despite his coldness however....he still had ethics. Morales. She was not to be harmed. Even if her occupation in fact warranted her justifiable aggression were she a willing combatant. He'd proceed through the steel door and into the main corridor where CCTV Camera's provided some onlooker with a first row to the carnage that ensued when the RIOT unit appeared at the opposite end. Someone had misinformed him. The Lockdown procedures were incorrect as they were never designed for something of this magnitude. Calls were being attempted. Radios were sounding off all over and adjustments were being made to try and compensate for the inadequacy they brought to this circumstance in their attempts to STOP---what simply COULD NOT BE STOPPED. 30 men entered that hall in full RIOT gear----and in seconds, 1 man, Romulus, emerged out of the other end of that hall, with the surfaces of his own gear stained with blood and absolute carnage left in his wake ranging in the form of broken spines, necks and skulls, caved in chest cavities and several individuals thrown clean into and through bullet proof glass. 




HIs efforts would eventually carry him to the "Central Control" booth, a massive, reinforced command center that was positioned in the center of THIS prison wing that lead to others. It was here that MORE Riot Guards would have filled in and served as fodder for him to dismantle while 1 guard watched in absolute horror. Over 3 dozen had rose to the occasion in an attempt to Subdue that to which could not be subdued and their deaths were no less gruesome or pleasant then those of the hall that brought him here, yet again, in the booth was another woman guard who Romulus aspired to spare his wrath. He simply stared. Quietly, Saying nothing. His eyes affixed to her as he brought himself closer to the glass and she backed away from her control desk. Calmly but loudly he spoke, "Open every door between here and the Federal Detainment wing...Please....do not make me ask you twice, what I did not ask these men once...and to answer that question in your head..." He'd raise his hand and forcefully slam it against the ballistics glass CRACKING and damaging it severely, "No.....You are NOT safe behind that glass...." And shakily, listening to the convincing proposal, buttons were pressed and doors, just as they had before, began to unlock and lead him to where he needed to go. With over 3/4 of the RIOT detail in THIS building DEAD, Romulus would have no opposition as he walked through the doors and corridors leading to the federal detainment wing. However a storm was brewing within and outside of the Prison. Calls were made. Situation updates were being provided, and a more thorough form of reinforcement in the form of NYC's police and SWAT were enroute to counter the situation. 

The current events spread like wildfire across the island, but not in a manner that would vastly improve their effectiveness in handling the situation. It spread in a manner that would only incite more fear and panic. Unclear radio transmissions. Channels left open, hundreds of stray ears listening in first hand on the carnage unfolding. CCTV footage being watched by several watch tower stations in other wings and other locations on the island. Rikers Island had already been on the chopping block as a facility with inhospitable conditions, questionable practices against prisoners, lawfully wrongful death suits and Sexual assults are just aspects of a growing list of reasons why this place inevitably was doomed for closure. This is only brought up now to push the point that in the face of the current events---Alot of these guards discarded protocol and chose to presere themselves. Posts were left. Guard booths were fleeted. Entire wings of the prison were evacuated and left vacated SOME without locking in their general population leaving some wings compromised and slowly overrun by prisoners seizing the moment. Where Romulus walked, the walls shook. There were yells, screams and roars of protest from the Federal Detainment wing. Romulus would have entered, boots that echoed through the halls on his approach coming to a stop as he looked up, spotting the eyes on him in the windows of the doors of the cells holding their individual captives, most wide with delight, seeing Rom as the source of their freedom. He's egged on. Cheered for. Screamed at, and they go largely ignored as he walked over to the vacated Control-Desk where his eyes scrutinized the list and spotted it. Charles. Cell 12A. 

The moment Rom looked up and locked eyes with the cell---he spotted the man who caught glimpse those red hell-gems and found himself paralyzed with fear. Eyes that not even for one second removed themselves from that direction even as Rom walked up and sent his fingers to wedge into the sides of the door which was now being crushed, jerked and then PULLED off the magnetic tacks before being tossed aside. Inside he found Clatyon, immediately retracting to the furthest corner of this shoebox of a containment cell which got even smaller as Romulus bent down, turned, stepped through the door and arise back to his full height. He stood over this coward. Posturing purposely. Allowing him to drink in the entirety of how FUCKED he was at the moment. Failing to grasp who, or what or why....Clayton screamed out, "W-why!! w-who are you!!", his voice, ensconced in frailty and fear. Romulus spoke, and his voice was absolutely saturated with utter disgust and discontent when the words fell out of this mouth. "A fathers rage. A husbands sorrow. I am PUNISHMENT. I am BALANCE to an equation. You're going to start by telling me where you put the information you promised to the feds on Spirelli, not because it will save your life, because it won't. Its also not going to spare you what you deserve. You're going to give it to me because if you don't, im going to do what you did to those little girls, and their mother......to YOUR little girl, and her mother." He'd hold up his right wrist like one would if they were looking at their watch and a 3D HUD would display a photograph of Joyce Charles and Minara Charles, his wife and child. 

Claytons eyes would go wide and he'd scream out, "PLEASE!!!! ALRIGHT!! ALRIGHT!!!.....Newark!! Frelinghyusen ave, the old store house close to Meeker Ave! It's in the trunk of the Chevy Impala parked there I rent the place out for storage, a black case in the trunk closest to the seat!--ACK!!" he was viced. An armored hand affixed tightly around his throat and squeezing  while lifting him off of his feet, Asphyxiating and literally strangling the life from the man who clawed and kicked wildly, fighting and protesting for survival. His efforts were strong at first, but weakening, gradually, slowing to an utter crawl before in one final squeeze and jerk an audible -SNAP!!!!-  

The lifeless corpse was dropped there. Collapsing and left like a pile of laundry, where shortly after Romulus would turn around, crane down and step back out of the cell. 


Meanwhile..........things were brewing something fierce outside.

One person can make all the difference. One person, at the right place. At the right time. SUPER had sent her. Perhaps, SUPER needed to have their heads examined.

What was going on again? The radio had given several messages, the rapid report several others. General consensus was “this concerns us.”

A prison. A break-in. Not out, but in. On Ryker’s island: okay, on Rykers?!

The guy, this guy. They weren’t fully sure how he had gotten in but there would be inquiries, investigations. He was in some sort of fancy body suit. A suit much like her own tricked out outfit.

She wore a large overcoat that was kinetic resistant, flame-resistant, and provided excellent body armor. She had also recently enchanted the Fed suit and slacks underneath it for war. Same enchantments. Same enhancements. Lastly, she had on her gloves. Amelia only had limited options for enchantments. They took time to make and time to upkeep. And she was wearing most of them. All she really needed was a helmet. But— helmets aren’t really clothes, or usable in many situations. So she settled for a riot helmet someone had given her: it came in black. Mostly matched the duster-like overcoat and fed suit. Mostly. No? Not really, but it gave that last ounce of protection she would need.

What else did she know about the situation? Guy in suit, explosion. Transport. Tower. Lot of guards down, hurt or other. The man was strong. Most likely a mutant, if the brief report was to be believed. She was skimming a paper copy and walking towards her own transport, an SUV to get her further onto the island. To the facilities. The helicopter had gotten her there, and it would take her the final stretch.

SWAT and police we on the scene. As she arrived and stepped down from the SUV, Her eyes skimmed the circus. Entire wings, evacuated or evacuating. A police helicopter in the sky, spotlight scouring the area. Some wings full of prisoners, free or not. Alone. What a mess. And here was she, one lone agent sent to deal with the mess.

Someone told her what cameras told them. Where he was, how to get there. Amelia grabbed a RIOT shield she was not fully trained in the usage of, and ran. Three SWAT officers backed her… from a distance.

Amelia arrived too late. Just as she saw the man in the suit drop someone. Dead.

Well, one of many today, Her mind considered, tired tone heavy.

The SWAT officers rushed into the room ahead of her, as she drew her sidearm. Shields up in one hand, gun in the other, all three opened fire. “Stop right there mutant!!” One officer shouted.

She lowered her hand gun and brought up her shield. Held off.

She was about 15 feet away from the trio, Just waiting to see how the whole thing went for them. 7 foot tall armored man had rampaged all over the facility. Probably didn’t fear small caliber fire all that much. What could she even do to him?

He'd have turned around just as the SWAT members readied and fired with far less then desirable results seving only to be effective at aggravatin him then actually harming him. The suit was highly resistant to ballistics and unbeknownst to them even without it he totted a level of physical endurance and durability not to farr off his suit itself, what his current attire offered was an incresed level of utility, resilience and versitility without having to expend his own effort and abilities directly-----and it as intimidating as all shit. The eyes of the mask would ignite furiously, bleeding off a well of mystical energy before  the ground beneath the balls of his feet cracked and caved under the might generated y powerful legs that lunched him across the gap between them at an absolutely insane pace, confirming any reports mentioning physical attributes well above the norm. Diving head lnto the hail of gunfire whih riddled the Titans form on his advance served to cross the diide while they were to occupied with putting rounds into him accurately, and hindered by cumbrsome shields which would do very little in stopping the shoulder rush he'd apply to one of the SWAT-Officers. At his size and with enough force to knock send a a car back into the far wall were it there instead of him, it this would be an absolutely lethal amount of force if it connected.

Romulus was however not just some physically gifted brute. He was a trained combatant of the utmost skill and caliber, he didn't waste movvements, he strung together his offensives as shown when he'd reach to snag the ankle of the presumably fleeting SWAT he had just charged and would seek to rag doll the combatant by his leg and use his entire body as 200+lb weapon to BAT thee second SWAT member away, accounting for changes in position, were he successful in batting 1, he'd spin on his left foot, following through on the counter clockwise motion and drastically increase the power on the follow up swing to  the final combant  who like the first would be batted clean across the room if he was successful. While the first of these 3 attacks would prove lethal, the other 2 would at best be incapacitated and injured, Leaving Romulus to stare at the female present here while holding the lifeless body of the first SWAT member in his hand. Not that it mattered the dead combatants leg would be dislocated and broken in several places from that action andd Rom would drop him  on the floor at his side.

"They fired on me......so i attacked them. You were smart not to lead with aggression. You can continue to be smart and just step aside, Im not a fan of hurting or harming women. Youu chose to stay, you're a combatant.....and well, you see for yourself how I feel about those. Besides, I got who I came for....." The fact that it was assumed that he was a mutant just dawned on him but at the moment he put it to the rear of his mind. Behind that helm a stern face stared with glowing red eyes affixed to the agent in front of him, giving her the floor and the stage to make her next move.

Sooooo yeah, that had gone about as well as her cowardly heart had expected.

Did she actually consider herself a coward? No.

Had she let three SWAT get, god forgive her, swatted? Yes.

Was that evil? Look. Sometimes in life, you have to make sacrifices. Do things you don’t want to do. For the greater good. Had she sacrificed those officers?

If it gets you to sleep more soundly at night, Amelia, No.

The officers had been adults, making adult decisions, in a very dangerous job. Now she, too, would be making adult decisions. In the very same, very real, type of danger.

Cue Simpsons gif, Ralph laughing. “I’m in danger!” Ugh.

She had needed to see what the person was capable of. Now, Amelia had seen it. Now, she could steeple her fingers and ponder the most sensible ways to exploit it. Definitely not saying Excellent while doing so. That was enough Simpsons references for one day, thank you. Although the skin-tight bodysuit the guy was wearing sure did bring back memories of Ned Flanders in skis. Wiggling.

Right. On task, brain. On task. What the hell had he said to her?

Her smile behind the clear plastic visor was visible to him, even in spite of the fact that the visor reflected light off one side of it, masking half her face. To rip off something she had most likely read somewhere, she smiled like a bared blade smiles. And she felt edge lord for even thinking that thought.

… and then she did an even more edge lord thing, and laughed at him. A witch’s cackle.

“Did you? Did you really? Because I think—“

Acting, she was acting. This was all an elaborate ruse. With strength and durability like his, she needed to play on the weaknesses of his mind. If he had those. And this was fucked up, even for her. More fucked up than the time she had pretended to be the mass murderer, Aura, to scare away some big strong men. This time, she pretended to be—

The man he had thought dead rose on near-invisible puppet strings.

To the seven foot tall monster, perhaps, the air a few feet above the person (whose name was Clayton Charles) might have shifted slightly, as if there were a slight heat haze, like what you see coming off hot concrete on a blazing summer day. And maybe there might have been minor disturbance in the air, from the literal strings looped around the dead man’s sleeves on his upper arms, strings that supported him. Strings connected to the near invisible “ghost hands” she imagined in that “heat haze” blur a couple feet above the dead man’s body. But then, maybe the man was wearing a big ass bulky helmet, and his visor, combined with poor lighting, or too much lighting, or too much going on, might have made him fail his perception check to notice any of that. The haze was pretty discrete, compared to what she could normally do. But regardless of whether he saw those tiny visual cues or not, she was doing it, all the same.

What was she doing? Well. She could manipulate clothing. He was wearing a long-sleeved prison uniform. It was winter, after all. It had been a bit of a strain, seeing as Amelia could only use her psychic constructs to lift about equal to what she physically could lift, herself. But, then, he had been on a prison diet and had seemed a sort of wiry man. The type she could probably lift, on her own. If she had to. She worked out.

The only thing of him her power could really touch was his clothes, but the dead man was fortunately wearing clothes. So she could try this macabre gambit out. And it was macabre. Had she not decided this was the most fucked up thing she had ever done?

Really. She could have made psychic platforms to gain elevation, and tried to “kite” him away from the scene. As if she were fleeing. And it would have looked a lot like that scene where Elsa jumps from ice pillar to ice pillar in that Disney movie, Frozen 2. Far cuter, far more simple and discrete. A pretty clever way to lead him astray and gave time. But, she needed time. Time for the button she had pressed on a communicator stuffed in one of her duster’s inside pockets to do its stuff. Hence, the macabre gambit you, the reader, so dutifully spent the last ten minutes reading about.

The corpse puppet shambled, with arms that were rag dolling dead weight. Feet shuffling, basically scraping the ground.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her cheek, but he would not be able to see that. Just as he would not have been able to the furious button pressing behind the upheld riot shield, that was shielding what she did from view. He would not see that she had holstered her gun, though he might note she had not trained it on him again. Since the whole thing with the SWAT swatting and all of that.

Amelia did not take a step back. The ruse had to come from a position of power, and any showing of weakness would most likely be sensed, if he were half the predator mind she thought he was.

“Oh look. He moves,” Amelia said, toothily. “Given time, he might even revive fully. Wonder if he’s some type of mutant. Mr. Big. Maybe you better go do something about that?” She nudged her chin towards dead-man.

Yuck, yuck. She was not sure what sick part of her had fogged over her mind and slipped in that “Mr. Big” comment right there. She chalked it up to big time nerves.

This was a stupid plan. A phenomenally stupid plan.

If he turned towards her to chase, she would drop control over the constructs and switch it to one glove. She would launch the shield at him with the glove, like a rocket punch. And then she would run like a rabbit. And try to lead him to the courtyard.

Amelia did not only lift weights, she ran too. She was good at running. Running was good.

Aura adjusted the flight stick in the helicopter and shakily the craft agreed, she was lost though she knew a cage factory when she saw one. The very sight of them made her angry, anger that was not all improved by the shaky flight, or the incident that had occurred to force her to try and take it. Killing was so much simpler then trying to keep people alive to be arrested but she had been trying. She had gotten several calls on the radio asking for identification which she had no idea where to begin. Mostly she just had no idea what to hit. Then she heard a blast even up in the air and tried to swing the news copter around to see.

The tail of the copter broke as it struck a security tower and flew off landing on a few rocks and rolling into the shallow water. Without the tail the copter could only turn circles and plunged to the ground, leaving nine feet of skid marks and shards of glass, the roters topped as one snapped part way on the wall and became lodged in the masonry. Aura had decided not to where the safety harness as like the radio she had no idea what to push to make it work.

She exited the crash wreck without a scratch and really hoped she had not killed the guy in the tower, he might of been people. Aura mentally corrected herself reminding herself humans were people to. Her aura was powered and she kept a hand up for a slash in case it was needed, it was not, the guards seemed distracted to say the least and she knew the area lacked an adapted because the guards were clearly not interested in engaging her but they seemed more worried about something further in the prison. She went forward to a body that was laying face up. She knew the guard, he had guarded her when she had been in prison, she also knew the power he had once had. She hoisted the body up by the nack as she went dragging it. The aura heard a few scattered word that made her angry. Revive, Mutant and do something about it.

She moved from the courtyard, wreathed in eighteen inches of pink energy, their was little point in hiding now and then she took a long deep breath. Their was police, a swat team, dead bodies, a well suited man who dwarfed her a lady in a really nice coat and a floating corpse. One thing was very clear, she was a dead women if the man everyone seemed focused on somehow vanished, but minimizing casualties seemed like the right thing to do. The news had mentioned a large mutant attacking with exceptional strength. This man was not her father and realizing that she let breathe,she should of known better really, but Aura was desperate to find the stability she had had.

She dropped the corpse in front of her and yelled for attention. "Someone killed my adapted guard friend and though human he was, he was an honorable man. My large mutant friend, whatever your purpose it is not worth this. The deaths will scratch your soul til one day it shatters, I know because I have walked that path thousands of times" she said honestly, holding back her anger at having come here to fid her dad only to be in a situation she was not at all convinced she could get out of. Good, maybe she would head for the final dance today after all. She had no idea who any of these people, were the giant man or the women in the coat on the other side of the giant man. From her Aura she made two swords from the pink energy that flowed from her finger tips until it made the aura weapon. Part of her hoped it came to combat even though this was not the place for it, She was glad she remembered her mask today.

 The initial interaction betwee he and the woman using the corpose as a marionette was nothing short of comical. if his actual facial expressions could be seen it would have only served to make it even funnier, first the single brow that perked upon seeing the body float----and dangle as if it were being held up by something and not its own power. It wasnt that he didnt notice or couldn't see the phenomena, the "Hazy Air" as it was described it was the sheer audacity that she felt he was THIS stupid that made him flat out no care. NEVERMIND the fact that his sense of hearing, augmented as it was in this helmet, allowed him to discern no heart-beat present coming from the floaty corpse, but  quick shuffle through the visual modes, had the thermals displaing a steady decrese in its body temperature. NOT tht he doubted his own work---it was just to easy to double check just in case he was dealing with someone who could in fact raise the dead. What truly took him for a whirl was when she spoke, as if attempting to turn him away or lure him into action using his own kill, this cased him to tun around and face her, and visibly tilt his head in disbelief.  "You've got to be kidding me..."

If any other tricks in her bag had this level of effectiveness to them then the appearance of the other woman would and should have been considered a blessing to her, to him, an unwanted interruption and distraction. He hadn't come here for an all out melee, at least not with any opposition that didnt stand directly in the way of his objective but now found himself  being opposed by powered individuls on the way out. Aura's words came forth and did nothing to move his moral compass in another direction, and he obliged her statement with a response, "That someone would be me, and I assure you im not going to be losing any sleep about  his passing, he isn't the first to die at my hand, and surely won't be the last..."  While he spoke he had spread his arms wide, stretching them out and cupped his hands, a meaningless gesture that may even look as if he was taunting or inviting any conflict or response to what he stated. In fact it was quite the opposite. What was apparent was the brielf flash of crimson anima that surged, like red electricity,  over the entirey of his body before he spoke, "Lastly, im not a mutant...nor am i anyones friend."

Now his next course of action was infact an old classic. Typically reserved for the physiclly gifted with enough raw power to facilitate it and even as he was, he did. A Thunder-Clap. Or....the act of clapping his hands together with superhuaman effort resulting an the release of a substantial amount of kinetic/concusive force, the likes of which at it's current level had enough raw power to vacate literally shove AIR out of the entire room, and for body weights like the two women present here, if it struck soundly and they lacked means of resistance the Dome-Like Area of effect could very will collide with staggering force and send them barreling away and into nearby walls. More importantly was that the force was MOST powerful closest to him, and would wane as it traveled out past tthe 50 meter mark, secondly the sheer SOUND was near deafening, lastly, the anomoly seemed laden with elemental mysticism discharged in electrical form that could serve as debilitaing as tthe other factors of the act. 

He sought to diable the two of them with the act--which while moving tthrough the narrow corridor that brought him here would even cuse a shockwave to bellow out the entrance and jolt the law enforement outside! Should it serve its purpose, and be even remotely effective, then maybe, just maybe he'd have created an opening for him to leave withoutt causing further injury to these two.

He laughed at her. Laughed at her.

Intimidation check, critical fail.

Okay, so maybe it had not been laughter. A slight tilt of the head, a “you have got to be kidding me?” It all added up to four, just the same.

Amelia opened her mouth, about to mouth off. To be all “No sir, no kid.” But then someone in eighteen inches of pink energy waltzed onto the scene. Also carrying a corpse. What, was it “hold a dead body” day and no one had told her? First him, then her, then Lady Pink!

… Aura, Amelia’s mind whispered to her.

Aura. The mass murderer. The violent mutant she had met. Mirror had introduced them once, and Amelia had been full of so questions, so many! She had been young, naive, and just bold enough to peaceably interrogate someone infamous for how often they liked to paint the town red. They’d honestly gotten along okay. Mirror had, if she recalled correctly, been horrified. And then? Years later, she had pretended to be the woman, in order to spook some thugs who had been harassing a cute nurse lady. And that, basically, had been her history with Aura.

She knew Aura had supposedly died, or else gone silent. Had not been active in quite a while. SUPER had a great big file on Aura, alongside numerous other former Order members of infamy. And here she was, opting for a non-violent approach. Amelia had thought herself bold. Aura was a whole other level.

At first, she had been uncertain if the woman in question were actually Aura. There was a mask. She was not covered in blood. The pink aura was pretty damning, but it was only when Amelia heard the woman speak that she was certain on her identity. It sounded like the woman. Both in vocal tone, inflection, all that happy crappy, and in the way she spoke. The words she used. Few could emulate it, rarely duplicated. One of a kind.

There was a faint plop behind the man as her constructs vanished, and gravity did it’s thing. No body was on her mind any more. Just the two of them. It was a good thing she had stayed focused. Because the man was doing something.

He stretched out his arms, and energy flashed over his whole being.

He said he was no mutant.

He was a freaking Magic-user, like her! The one who had ghosted her, so many months ago. A fracking magician. She did not like magicians. And she figured she would not like what he was planning to do next.

Survival mode took over.

She could have tried to stop him from clapping, turned his hands aside with a construct, done something… but there was next to no chance it would have achieved any worthwhile results. All it might have done was delay, and give Aura (if that is your TRUE NAME) a chance to do… something. What, Amelia had no clue. Or, she could play it smart. Since she had not done much of that so far.

Amelia played it smart. The riot shield, she let clatter to the floor. She was running, running, running towards this supposed Aura. And as she did, she shouted something she hoped would make aura less likely to hit her.

“Mirror and baby Iris say, if you want to survive, drop
aura, hug me! And go down!!”

There. Name dropping baby Iris was enough celebrity for a day. Had Aura even been at the baby shower? If mirror was auras friend, she’d probably been incognito. But if not—


There was no time for hesitation. Would she listen? Amelia rushed in for a tackle hug. If she succeeded, the sequence of events would go something like this:

Glomp, drop, and roll.

She would, for lack of a better word, “glomp” Aura, drop Aura, and then roll them both up in the protective effects of her duster. A big pink ghost hand construct would press down on top of them, to keep the coat in place… and to pin them between the bars of its fingers, as well. Prone would reduce surface area to be hit, the fingers would help prevent them from being tossed, and— as an afterthought before everything would go down, Amelia would add:

“Aura, aura! Bubbleuspleasenow!“

And what would be, would be.

As a side note the coat protected well against electricity. Which might be good.

Was old age catching up to her? Had her father come back, why attack this place without contacting her first. Abyss had sought to make her more of a person. His messages may not have always reached Aura but she had learned much and the Large red man had been the only parental figure she recalled clearly. She was here born of foolish hope, but she knew their was no altering that now. She took a breath and let her mind settle.

The Lord of Souls would feast this day, maybe at last on her own. Did she have the right to judge the man? Maybe not as she had killed a great number of people maybe far less deserving then she had. She simply wanted to convey her experience to the man, help him avoid the path she had. She cared little for the staff here, mostly but thought maybe decreasing the deaths he would cause in the future. She simply assumed the mans act was of vengeance, which she could respect. Aura understood what mercenary's were but lacked respect for the work preferring to help because it was right to do. She had not seen his like before but he was very clearly a mutant or a forsaken Mystic. Despite his words Aura knew many denied their heritage.

Her eyes narrowed as the woman ran to her mentioned Mirror and Iris, the name ensured the aura Hammer to the women's knees never even formed instead. Other then Alex, Mirror was the closest thing to family Aura possessed and despite the shakey logic Aura gleaned the familial connection from the fact Alex was relation to both herself and her double friend. Aura could not name what that really made them if anything but it mattered not, whoever this women was, she was she knew the name would have meaning to her. She also knew the voice from somwhere long ago

The mans immediate attack after he spoke left her little chance to respond, her aura stayed up though it grew more translucent, the subtle change let the other woman pass and Aura hardened her aura again after, throwing her arm's around the woman and let Amelia's weight carry her back as her aura flowed over the woman's back as they rolled. Aura made sure she came up facing the man. She knew right away he was a mystic as the impact struck her aura, she stabbed into the floor, but the blade did not did deep enough before the two pink clad women were pulled from the floor. Her aura had weathered the blast but it was without weight which the pair very much needed. Aura reached her arm out to the wall in a slashing motion, burying the blade in the wall to slow their progress, the effect slowed their forward momentum and carried them into the wall, which her aura dented looking almost like a giant fist struck it, before Aura let them drop to the ground. She could feel something dripping from her ear, and they were ringing hard. She had been through enough close mortar strikes to know her ears would heal. The extric portion of the attack hit her aura but the non conducting aura kept it at bay.

She stood and readied her aura blades defensively, in case The large man decided to press the attack, but Aura held her ground to cover the other women. She made no move to block the man. "The youngling knows how to dance, Mysterious friend. " she said checking her hearing. The Large man hit like a car, and she knew from direct and personal experience with the Mansions null. She took several deep breaths as she pulled air back into her lungs fully.

Press an offensive he would not, because he couldnt. He'd have dropped to one knee and while not visible to them beneath the mask he weathered the pain of the bands around his body searing his flesh and draining on the mystical energies that empowered him making even the slightest physical act, at this moment require a herculean effort at best to achieve. It would have been easie to simply kill the two of them iwith his bare hands rather then attempt some non lethal solution, the end never justifies the means, and now, it would ppear that his actions took far more out of him then it did them. Games of atrition never favored him and his reputation as a ruthess, quick and efficient killer was not built on the foundation of "Mercy". These two would not be given any further quarter from here on out if they pressed the issue of combatting him any further.

His body however at the moment was racked with pain and the best of his efforts were going into keeping himself up right while he faced the two of them, stalling for time but intentionally presenting himself as opposition still to be taken seriously---Because he was. What was unseen at this moment was their willingness to press an issue they stood to gain nothing from, and that cold baritone voice would creep forward from the mask once more in inquiry,  "I wont waste energy and effort warning the two of you again.....LEAVE!

The bnds continued to burn but the restraint was slowly ebbing nd the pain albeit present was something he had worked  through many occaions prior, the ball was in their court.

The law enforcement outside were indeed jolted by the sudden wave of shocking force. One landed on his ass. His partner looked down at him and offered her hand, to right him. Others fell to similar fates. Or didn’t, hunkered down behind shields.

Back inside the fighting grounds, Amelia was groggily righting herself.

They had tumbled, they had rocked, and they had rolled. They had also survived. The combination of her coat and Aura’s defense had kept them from serious injury. Even so, her head still hurt and it was a wonder she had not bonked the woman in the head with her riot helmet during their trip across the room.

The pink hand reached down to daintily pluck her up by one gloved hand, and support her as she got to her feet. Amelia braved her hand against a translucent pink palm. It was a little less than her size, floating in midair at her side.

Time for a wellness check.

Body, bruised and shaken. Knees and arms were the main points of ache. The irony was, these were not from the ground, but from contact with aura and Aura. And her own hand construct, from where it had pressed against her back. Whoops.

Her head? Achy. And her ears? Ringing. Possibly, there was some blood. The riot helmet might have helped slightly, there. But she would not know for certain until it came off. Sounds came distorted, but that would better with time.

There were other things, sure, but they were small. It could have been far worse.

The room was a mess. Bodies were scattered. The floor was gouged, and looked like a giant had punched it at one place. In hindsight, Amelia realized Aura had probably done most of that while trying to keep the two of them from flying down the hall. Or into a wall. Also, that pink aura had likely contributed more to their survival than all the enchantments on her clothing, combined. The electric resist or heat resist may have helped, some. Amelia had been trying to help Aura, but had helped herself far more. Her ego weathered the hit with great care. She looked to the pink woman, to see how she fared.

Aura was okay. Standing in front of her, blades drawn. Protecting her?

Amelia suddenly felt self-conscious. Her back straightened and she stood a bit taller. Slapped the palm of the pink hand, and sent it to glide out in front of her, palm towards the man in a gesture of denial. The youngling (was that her?!) summoned a pink drill construct and set it to spin in the air in front of her right fist. For good measure.

I will not fan girl Aura. I will not fan girl Aura. I will not—

——

And how fared the mysterious man?

He was still upright, and still wearing a mask that hid how he was feeling. There were vague muffled sounds coming from his direction. Amelia dug a finger in one ear and said conversationally (and since she was mostly deaf, too loudly):

“I did not catch a word of that. Is he even talking? I can’t see his lips moving. On three, dance? Okay? Three!”

She ran a few steps forward, bringing the big pink hand and the drill up in front of her like she was going to launch them. Hauled back her fist. Her range was 60 feet. The distance between them was much less than that. And, fired!!

The fist flew at the man, then— vanished as she dismissed it, only to reappear an instant later, in his face. The fingers wrapped around the helmet as the pink hand went from translucent to opaque. Blocking his vision. And— she started to apply pressure. It was only a distraction. The pressure she could exert was only equal to her own physical strength, and that was not superhuman. As she dug her fingers in, though, she started to wrench and tug at the helmet itself. Trying to either yank it off, or, what, yank his head off? Haha. No. But let him think that.

While she left that matter for him to deal with, she ran forward another few steps and sent the pink drill spinning, slowly spinning, to curve around him and stop behind his legs at around knee-level. It elongated and widened into a cylinder.

For Aura’s sake, she had attempted temporarily blind him by blocking the physical field of vision in his helmet. Almost simultaneously, she had tried to set up a tripping hazard behind him. If Aura hit him hard enough, he might fall. And if she got him while he was blind, then all the better.

She hunkered down, and pulled her coat around herself protectively as she focused on her constructs. She imagined they’d be getting beaten rather shortly, and needed all the concentration she could get.

Cmon Aura, get him!!

((ooc permission was given. to go for broke!!))

In truth Aura had never really separated adapteds and mutants as different. She just saw them as mutants which was part of why she had been annoyed at the poor guards death. The man had been Aura's suicide watch as she had proven more and more unwilling to be held. He had also been one of the few guards Aura had cooperated at all for during her stay at another prison. She ahd to admit the attacker not being her father made her attitude worse overall, plus had it been her dad at least they would of been more clear on what was going on here. She knew she had a bias however, the big red man had gotten her to stop making bone furniture and taught her what credit was.

She had not seen the man's moment of weakness but she knew every person had to have one. She had been to distracted tryong to slow them down. He spoke but could not make out well what he said between the liquid and general ringing in her ears. She shrugged as Lenna asked her if he said anything and before she could reply Amelia charged forward at the man who had just recently played pinball with them. Their really were few things more beautiful then a woman running into combat. Aura moved forward a moment later, hit on the pretty mutant girl later.

Aura had always been good in reading a battlefield. It seemed the man wanted or needed the corridor past them rather then the one Amelia had been in front of. She read Amelias tactics and considered where to strike, her right blade melted and flowed into a round shape forming a hammer a foot in front of each of her fist connected to her fingertips. She swung both hammers aiming for his pelvis, unsure how much forced the man's suit and witch powers could handle. The hope was in the distraction of Amelias attack, hers would strike each striking with the force of quickly thrown cinder blocks force. She kept the third blade she could form in reserve in case he tried to punch or kick her she would try and impale his hand with a quickly made aura spike, amputation hardly counted as killing after all. She also knew this could not turn into a long brawl, she simply could not take to many hits like the previous, certainly not while shielding another.

"........................!!!"

Their timing was a gift and a curse. He had already found himself taking a knee to cope with the pain afflicted on him by the bands. His body was racked yet transitioning out of the slump when his vision suddenly was impaired and a force was at play around the entirety of his head. It tugged on him, but not with more force then he could exert, so the user would find more resistance then even she could assume someone as physically strong as he has displayed could muster. As a reaction he'd have rose from a knee but taken a secure stance, still keeping his head from being wildly jostled and the magnetic sealing on the helm would hold it true and firm. Impaired as he was in adequately tracking the obstruction behind his legs, once his sight returned to him and the phenomena working against his helm had vanished he'd have been impacted squarely in his solar plexus. Again the physical forces they were working with would have proven inadequate in actually harming him or even testing the limitations of his suit, however impaired as he was by his current afflicted state, and as irresponsive as his body was at the moment of their pressing attack they found a measure of success, but he would to. The seams of his armor would once again glow red, this time in activation of a single spell (1), as he toppled over backwards and landed squarely and audibly on his back. Beneath his mask his face shuffled through several expressions starting at slightly startled to flat out annoyed. That was insignificant when compared to what occurred the moment his back had hit the ground. Albeit it was with force----it was hardly with enough to cause his massive frame to continue going downward, yet it did! Crashing through half meter thick concrete floor, snatching an additional 1sq meter of flooring out with him, followed by another fall more then 30' and into the floor below---which he did not pass through, and that glow long having gone. 

Now while it wasn't his intention, were these two overly committed during their attacks and not mindful of the floor beneath them, could find themselves taking the fall with him. How they'd fair in comparison to him, one could guess, as Romulus would almost immediately sit up growling in a bestial like advertisement of his frustration. Were he successful he'd be looking upward at the hole he made, before once again going into a sprint, now moving through the Sub-Levels of this prison wing and toward the Main-Flow Junction---A  massive door at this main halls in 100 yards down and a huge water way used to prevent flooding of the island by venting excess water out into the surrounding water. With any luck they wouldn't follow or press pursuit, as the closer confinement and tighter space and lower light conditions wouldn't serve as the best environment to combat someone like him at all---Especially so light on patience and vastly annoyed and devoid of any further mercy.

SPOILER: Click to show

1 - Spell of Perpetual Motion (Unstoppability) - Utilizing the mysticism that empowers him Romulus embues himself with "Perpetual Motion", Absolutelty negating the effects of any resisting force, regardless of it's form to his movement in any direction This enables him to breach through any obstruction in his path regardless of it's size and mass in relation to himself, in this case the floor beneath him as his body fell into it. 

Aura did as she wanted, and hammered the person. Hard. With multiple follow up plans. She saw most of it, while hunkered down. Though, to admit, Amelia was far more focused on her own problems.

Controlling the hand and resisting the man’s strength was… a problem. He seemed stronger than your average bear, as if he weren’t one to be constrained by mundane things. Her brow broke out in a cold sweat as she focused, really focused. She managed the few seconds it took for Aura to do her thing, and send him flying.

Amelia’s constructs both broke, as the man got knocked ass over tea kettle by the woman in the mask. There was a tiny bit of mental pain associated with it, but nowhere near the amount of pain some psychics experienced. At least, comparing it to her other known construct user, Shin. For him, it was migraines and bloody noses and awful. For her… owwwww… but She’d be fine.

How far he went—

Amelia turned the word “Damn” into a reverent, holy word. That was the only word for it.

Aura did not usually hit with enough force to “home run ball” a baddie…. Did she? But that one… that one…

“… would have been out of Yankee stadium,” she muttered to herself.

The floor had given way around him. She had been far enough away a few quick steps back from the ruin would have been enough to avoid tumbling in after him. Structural damage, there was plenty. She could only speak for herself, but—

They did not pay her enough to drop down over 30’ and several floors, to give chase. Her report would make it clear that when the dust had settled and she had looked over the edge into the abyss, he had gone. He had escaped.

Amelia was already mentally compiling her report. Nobody could have asked more from her than what she had done. It is unfortunate, but some days, the bad guy gets away. As for how Aura handled his eminent escape— sorry, “Unknown mutant.”

Her report would not call the woman Aura. Why would it? Aura was still someone SUPER probably wanted to talk to. This helper was somebody who had been nearby and attempted to assist, in some vigilante justice. Would SUPER care? What had cameras caught? Would there be fallout for her not fighting or attempting to even question Unknown Mutant, hereby further referred to mentally as “Um.” And where even was she?

Amelia looked around for her, through the drifting concrete dust. To see if the person had fallen, or stayed on their feet. Because until she knew that, there was not much further she could do except speak into the communication mic on her riot helmet.

“He fell through the floor… and is likely engaged in escape efforts at lower levels of the facility,” she said quietly. Quiet enough the mic could pick it up, not loud enough Aura should be able to hear, wherever she was. Amelia had even turned away and taken a few steps from the broken floor area to be sure of all of that. Afterwards she said, loudly, “Hey you okay?”