The Aftermath

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The Aftermath

Post  Aerial Assault on Mon Aug 20, 2012 6:46 am

The Zig, unspecified time after Conclave's defeat.

One looked about his cell. Or at least, as best he could. His wrists and shins had been chained and clamped to the wall, and his neck too, so that he could only rotate his head a few degrees.

He'd been stripped of his holy armor and weapons, as well as the many different gadgets he often kept on his person. The only thing he had left was his robes. Still, he had his ability to communicate with the rest of his Council.

Or what was left of it. The only ones he could get into contact with were Six and Nine, in the adjacent cells. "Brilliant" He thought, "The coward and the profiteer."

He had little idea what fate was in store for him. He was far too valuable to be executed, this he knew. He was also far too smart to just be sent to solitary confinement. Way too smart. Oh, they'd try to find a way to utilize his abilities. At least, he guessed so. At this point, he wasn't putting down any conclusions just yet.

What unsettled him the most was the feeling of absence. He'd always had minions, people at his beck and call. And now he had nothing. Worse, he no longer felt the ever-present aura of his glorious King. Just a damning silence. No words needed to be said: He'd failed.

He'd think of a way. He always did. Now it was just a matter of waiting ...



-----------


Several miles out of Paragon City limits

Four looked back at the City. The City that was just within their grasp. He couldn't believe how close they'd come. How close he'd come.

He looked over at his ragtag bunch of survivors. They numbered twenty, including himself. Three of them were False Men, one of whom had been severely damaged and was missing an arm. As far as he was aware, none of the Soldiers had survived.

One of the cultists hobbled over to Four. The cultist had taken shrapnel to the leg and stomach and had to use their rifle for support.

"What now?"

Four noticed the casual tone, but ignored it.

"The Conclave is no more, we ply our own way."

"But what of the King?"

There was a pleading look in the cultist's eyes. Four placed a mechanical hand on the cultist's shoulder.

"Forget them. We will start anew. We have the skills."

The cultist glanced aside at the ragtag group. Most of them had taken some sort of injury. Four could tell that they weren't convinced.

"First .." Four continued "We get Six. Then, we move to our outer outpost."

The cultist nodded "And then?"

Four looked back at the City "And then, we do what we were supposed to do .."

---------

The realm of Dread

News traveled fast, and the news of the King's defeat traveled exceptionally fast to Dread. At first, he believed it coincidence, or a lie, but nope. Turned out to be the truth. Of course, he knew better.

"They haven't defeated him." Dread tossed the newspaper back at his ever-loyal minion, Felsmith.

Felsmith looked at the newspaper, then back at his master "Are you sure? They got his Scepter."

Dread stood up and paced around his luxurious room. He briefly skimmed over his bookcase, then stood infront of the fireplace.

"The Scepter is but one part of the King. The ritual those wacko machine cultists were performing was to simply .. well, not simply, but essentially bring him and his Scepter together in one place."

Dread looked over his shoulder. Though Felsmith wore a full helmet, Dread knew him well enough to know when he didn't understand.

"That means he's still en-route, but it'll be a loooooong time before he shows up. And when he does, he won't have his precious Scepter."

Felsmith glanced at the newspaper again. "You think Liberty Force can keep it safe?"

Dread smirked and moved around back to his comfy chair, and pressed his fingers together villain-style.

"Oh they better. In the wrong hands ... well, anyone's hands, it could do so much. Too much."

Felsmith shrugged and moved around to the larger leather chair on the opposing side of Dread's. This chair had been designed specifically with Felsmith in mind, thus it lacked any sort of ornamentation.

"Then why not take it for yourself?"

Dread scoffed, and leaned over to the small table next to him, upon which was a pitcher of fine red wine and a goblet. He poured himself a generous amount and took a swig, savoring the taste.

"The King isn't stupid, that thing is enchanted specifically so I can't use it"

Felsmith shrugged again "I could probably make use of something like that. Turn it into something .. potent."

Dread raised his eyebrow "Yeah well, you should've mentioned that before."

Felsmith bowed his head "Apologies master."

Dread gave a dismissive wave "Nevermind."

There was a few moments of silence, broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire and the occasional sip from Dread.

"You know .." Felsmith said. Dread looked up to see what his usually not-too-smart minion had to say.

"We could always use ... her ..." Felsmith left it hanging, inferring something

Dread rubbed his chin "I wouldn't know where she is, or, better yet, why we would?"

Felsmith shifted to the edge of his seat, taking on the hunch of someone explaining a complicated plan.

"He use her to draw the King here, uh .. to Earth. Surely when he's angry, he's going to move faster, yes?" Dread nodded, Felsmith continued "We 'use' her, and when the King arrives he's undoubtedly going to want his Scepter back, yes?" Dread nodded again, taking an interest in where this was going. "I ... -assume- that when the King is in close proximity, like, within a few miles, he'll just call his Scepter to him? Yeah, anyway. When he does get his hands on the Scepter, we pry it off him. Me, you and Daemoncade. Then the Scepter is ours."

Dread nodded a few times. "Mm hm, sounds like a solid plan, few little flaws."

Felsmith nodded for Dread to elaborate.

Dread waved his hand dismissively "This is all speculative, like 'If he did this' or 'If he can do that', we don't know if he could do any of that. And finally, letting 'Cade get close to the King? That's a disaster waiting to happen."

"Oh, do you have a better plan?" Felsmith blurted out. He only stopped to think after he said it. Dread raised a brow, and there was a short, tense silence.

"No ... we go with your idea." Dread stood up "Now, get some stuff together. We're going hunting .."
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Aerial Assault

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