Benjamin – Delta Zone #3 Level 80 – 99

 

 

“FUCK YOU, YOU WEIRDO! IF YOU DIDN’T WA-”

As the magical porcelain remnants continued to tinkle and the words of The Gemini Canadian's rebuke still hung heavy in the sulfur laden air, in spite of our hasty dimensional severing to her no where near far enough away locale. The social condemnation of a silence was only broken when a lone Russian insurrectionist started to guffaw as she makes her way over to begin her assault.

“So I take it your home life is goink we-”

A me collates the onset of her latest witticism with her previous jibe about the Canadian terrorist cell and promptly runs out of our already depleted strategic reserves of patience, by way of summarily employing [Lesser Matter Manipulation].

Her jaw *clack*’s shut before any of me are forced to take more drastic disciplinary measures while another me opines acidly.

“Did you play any part in setting that up?”

Oksana visibly struggles to verbalize her thoughts before offering a curt shake of the head.

Many of me weigh her communique’s potential truth and largely come down on the side of acceptance as although she is a persistent pain in our collective ass, she has yet to prove a deceitful one. This leads one of me to huff in annoyance while another me cancels the trait actively keeping her surly humor in check, before another other me probes.

“Then how did you know I would be meeting with her?”

Theatrically working her jaw, she scowls at us in an entirely surly fashion before supplying.

“It is now my job to keep track of comminks and goinks of Citadel’s center. So when unaffiliated woman tells guards she is there to visit friend instead of political wheelinks and dealinks, I take personal interest…I know you are private person but you should have told me you keep mistress in the cente-”

All of me are tempted to redeploy our trait as our twitching eye inadvertently resurfaces amidst the creaking of stressed metal of our structurally deficient armor. Thankfully...At least this time...Grandma Russia takes the not-so-subtle queue to do our work for us by clicking her own jaw shut.

Belatedly one of me takes it upon them self to point out that one of us, who in a particularly cowardly manner refuses to dob themselves in, has just ruined another set of perfectly good magical plate gauntlets. Releasing a collective growl of frustration, the triumvirate reconvenes and elects to enlighten Oksana as to a rough outline of our cloistered charge as well as her plight...If only to curtail her supply of ammunition with which to no doubt annoy the shit out of us with.

Huffing once more a me offers.

“Giselle is the daughter of Gérard.”

Leading her to afford us a look of genuinely perplex-ion. Grumbling some more a me furthers.

“The merchant Calvin had kidnapped and killed.”

Her face takes on an almost wooden quality as she weakly adds.

“I see…”

Scowling in unilateral annoyance that this is the only reverence our deceased friend gets, another less incensed me prosecutes.

“I really don’t think you fuckin do love. You see my nosey smart mouthed hexagenarion, the only reason he died at the hands of the men that piece of excrement Calvin hired is because Gérard didn’t have the common sense to shut up while they kept raping his daughter...And he was forced to watch… Then after they killed him, she gave up. Stopped trying to fight. Which of course meant that she stopped healing herself from their affections...So being the forward thinking sickos they were, they of course took that as an open invi-”

Looking a lot paler now, Oksana holds up an armored hand and bites out.

“Enough man...You have made point...”

Universally fuming at having nothing to break over the anger we’ve just rekindled, a me votes to eliminate her for having consistently associated with such scum. But as this would mean breaking our agreement the vote unjustly fails. 1 in favor, 2 against. And seeing as how we are already in the quagmire of metaphorical excrement a me figures we might as well bring her into the well and truly over-full emotional port-a-potty, by furthering.

“Now as for that Olivia girl, she is persona non-grata. Same category as Jürgen. Do not under any circumstances aid her, but do not murder her either...No matter what bullshit she might spout...Best not to let her get started though...Got it?”

This earns us a stone-faced and jerky nod of agreement for which we feel slightly better about this spaghetti-less day right up until one of me registers some self important donut in gaudily painted red white and blue platemail, clanking up to us with a smirk plastered on his mug...As if its his job to further cement our situation-ally driven assumptions about him, he begins.

“If you two have finished lolly gagging about the disappointment of your lady friend mayb-”

The air splits and landscape blurs to our collective will as two of me enact the power of jolly cooperation, sending him and his gaudy armor cartwheeling from whence he trotted while Oksana is still busy decrying far too slowly.

“DO-”

But gives up after she realizes the me’s are no longer inhabiting the now cracked basalt-ish bedrock we once were. After the offending party has finished his unconscious clanking back to his deathly silent allies, our head minion berates.

“YOU FUKINK SIMPLETON HAVE YOU BEEN SNIFFINK PETROLI-”

Before one of me forestalls.

“Calm your tits woman, he’s still alive...”

This only leads her to growl before furthering.

“You could have used words ins-”

We scowl once more while one of me interjects.

“No. That’s supposed to be your job lady, you told me you would handle this shit, but every time I hav-”

Refusing to budge an inch a crotchety Oksana rejoins.

“There is no cure for stu-”

Then a juddering ripple runs through the ground, causing almost half of the gathered humans to loose their footing in the process.

Whilst the 60 odd people of our former species rally around their unsteady friends and serious sounding orders are haphazardly followed, a me turns to address my head minion.

“So, at what point should I intervene?”

Oksana’s head whips to focus on me’s from her frenetic scanning of the rocky plateau overlooking the familiar seaside cove and seems a bit confused at the me's question before she regains herself enough to add.

“I u-uh we should wait and see what it is no?”

Smiling and freely shrugging at the now much-more-fragile looking woman, many me’s take to scanning our surroundings in earnest to see what form a system generated annoyance our gathering has attracted.

The juddering takes on a more rhythmic quality and it doesn't take long for the rather large culprit to rear its head over the horizon. As a result, none of me manage to hide the grin of glee that now plasters our grey and white haired mug.

More cries of alarm go up as several members of the arrayed forces break from their formations to run away from the excessively shifting geological facade that continues to loom over them as it ascends the slope to greet us.

Our minion sends a sidelong glace our way as one of me squeals and claps in delighted revelation. This was wholly owning to the fact that after we sent rocky the Lesser Rock Elemental to the drive thru quarry in the magical sky, he apparently decided to go and get supersized before come back to make a special delivery to yours' truly.

As the quite sizable Rock Elemental finally reaches ground level with its ominous thudding steps and apparently also brings itself into projectile range. The Raid Party’s of The American Territorial Army and Asian Union don't hesitate in unleashing magical hell.

Deflating slightly as they employ the flashy kiting tactics near identical to those they employed against the now deceased Sandy McSand Face from a certain Epsilon Zone. As we slump slightly in dejection at the uninspired battle plan, they seem intent on doing little else as they continue to pelt it from afar while backing up towards me's and the now visibly tense and weapon wielding Oksana.

It’s just when one of me is about to complain about how we're not even needed for this shit when the eight stories tall rocky mark 2 releases a rumble before thumping one of its several tonnage feet down on the ground. Which of course sends out a directed spikey shock-wave of jagged rock splinters straight at the closest Raid Party...That just so happens to belong to The American Territorial Army…

Huffing the triumvirate refuses to wait for permission from the bossy Russian at our side and enacts the power of jolly cooperation to rend the air with a crack as we blur past our surrounds, imposing ourselves between the oncoming attack and the half issued defensive commands of its intended targets.

Sufficiently situated, one of me opens Mr Pocket at a thirty five degree angle above us and calls forth a stronk rock boulder at maximum speed which is about the size of a respectable sedan. Collectively unsure if this measure will be enough to negate it, another me casts a max increase [Lesser Field of Gravity Manipulation].

Rock explodes outwards and away from where me’s stand as the stronk boulder completes its short but fast journey to the bedrock, pulverizing all puny silicate before it’s short lived magnificence. The on coming spike wave breaks from the scattershot of the rumbling detonation as our own attack dwarfs its puny susserations by several magnitudes. This leads to the visually edifying spectacle of a shotgun explosion of igneous debris to pepper rocky 2.0’s lower half as it rumbles and falters in pained displeasure.

Defense complete, many of me wonder if we should just kill it and be done with this charade of human cooperation and diplomacy. Yet we are clearly still too weak in such matters on account of the fact that we collectively cringe at the lecture that would be spawned from Oksana’s mouth as a result of such an expeditious and emancipative action.

Electing to maintain this much maligned course, at least until we can escape off world and remove ourselves from the barbed tongued hexagenerain’s vicinity...A me instead turns to the now amply magically shielded Territorian forces and gives them a thumbs up of encouragement.

Having sufficiently buoyed their visibly flagging spirits, the me’s not on face time bring us back at half speed to come to a rest next to our only barely flinching head minion. Collectively grinning at her now wary and cracked stony faced facade, a me leans in and queries conspiratorially.

“So do you think they have a chance at killing Rocky two-point-oh, before the days out?”

She seems to work through some emotions up until she scowlingly allows.

“I-Is difficult think to say...If they work together then...Maybe?”

Huffing at the fact that we still have to stand around and baby sit despite not having to care take of our max leveled and much better trained remaining Delinquents any more. A me counters.

“Can’t I just, you know…Speed things up a little?”

The thudding footfall in the background stalls her annoyance momentarily before she stabilizes her footing enough to rejoin.

“There is no point if you do everythink for them and leave them free to fight amongst selves! How many times mu-”

Waving her down, we elect to employ a sarcastically different tact.

“Then why don’t we let them?”

More projectiles shoot into the towering behemoth of animated rock, barely even managing to mar its exterior while our conversation companion relaxes enough to make labored huffing noises before renewing.

“It is like dealink with an infant! Every time you have to do somthink you don’t want, you just want to kill it or ru-”

But the rest of her answer is lost to us as the me on danger watch notes the approaching wave of stomp generated rock spikes, except this time rocky 2.0 has chosen the Asian Union’s Raid Party's as their target of preference. And while the power of jolly cooperation takes us away from minion mind warfare to intercede once more on behalf of our allies, we collectively strive to prove her barbed words false by saving the ungrateful sons and daughters of south east Asians.

And so, the day of drudgery continued like this for some time, yet in spite of the pedestrian nature of our magical hand holding, there was one highlight that made it all somehow worth it. That being in our proximity managed to somehow piss off the already simmering Oksana enough to get her to use her sluggish charge skill on us.

And even though she did attack us. The look of pained frustration on her face when me’s remained unmoved by her lethargically glowing attack. Or how she took to throwing down her dented and likely overpriced magical shield in disgust before cursing emphatically for all the embattled world to hear like the sore looser she so evidently was...Well, it was worth so much more than the homicidal betrayal we almost certainly didn’t generate for our own amusement...

Thus, in spite of how the shit of a day had commenced.

And all ex-human beings most certainly not being equal.

Our Tuesday in the last gasps of Earth's First Phase.

Well it turned out to be more edifying than most.