omnia mors aequat

     There was nothing that Greg could say to convince Cyrus that he was a good person, not now especially. And the fact that he had just appeared where Cyrus lives, where he goes to school! The fact that he had someone spying on him, it was all just… Overwhelming and awful. And he just happened to be in town? “Promised you wouldn’t show up in my life again! I paid you, I-I– I paid you a lot to leave me alone, to let me leave and live my life,” Cyrus said, it was hard for him to keep his tone steady while he could feel all the terrible emotions bubbling up inside him. Cravings he thought he had killed… “Yeah, I’m– I’m happy here, I’m in pre-med… Life is good. Because you weren’t here, cause the cu– because I felt free.” 

Cyrus’ panic was well within the realms of his expectations, but instead of working to suppress it he decided to let it run its course. There would be time to reshape him later on, when he’d had some time to think on his old thinking patterns. “I promised to let you leave without consequences,” he corrected gently, reaching out to place a hand on Cyrus’ shoulder, “and I’ve held my end of the deal. I’m not here to punish you for leaving the community, Cyrus.” He nodded, giving the teenager’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before he pulled back. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing better in your new life.” It was such a shame he’d ( partially ) come to turn it upside down, if only to the point where he’d willingly realign himself with his family. Their family. “But... if I may... why are you hiding?” He gestured toward his arms. “You don’t have anything to fear from these people.”

“I’m from Hopedale. It’s a little ways down south of New Orleans,” she replied. Her town was small, even by small town standards, but the people who lived there were some of the nicest people she’d ever met, and that more than made up for its size. “Well, I originally wanted to be a mathematician, but lately I  been thinking about being a teacher. I haven’t quite decided yet though.”

“Hopedale? Can’t say I’ve heard of it,” he said, offering a slightly apologetic smile. “It must be very small, indeed. Is it on the map?” His own hometown only made it on the most elaborate of them, and even then it was something of a miracle to see it. He didn’t doubt that most people didn’t think of it as a real place at all -- not that he particularly minded. The fewer that knew the location of his community, the better. “A teacher? A noble profession as any. Any thought to which subject you might want to teach?”

     Cyrus felt all the ink on his body and near his body rush to his hands, familiar and disgusting claws forming as muscle memory. He turned on his heels slowly just to come face to face with his worst nightmare. Only in his dreams had Cyrus imagined ever running into Greg again. He wanted to melt right there, but he couldn’t. Instead, he just made a push to cover his hands to hide the claws. “I-I thought– you’re a sick man,” he huffed out, “I can’t believe you. I left, you let me leave, you promised… You promised you wouldn’t do this. What the fuck, Greg?”

Just before Cyrus had managed to hide his situation, Greg noticed the familiar flash of claws on his hands -- even if he wanted to pretend otherwise, his subconscious proved that he remembered everything that they’d done. “Promised I wouldn’t do what, come and visit?” he asked, his tone just as soft and pleasant as ever -- almost eerily so. “I happened to be in town and decided to pay a visit to the both of you.” It was half a lie, but he wasn’t particularly interested in whether Cyrus believed him or not. Regardless of the boy’s current personal feelings, Gregory knew that they were subject to change... especially if he helped things along. “It’s good to see you,” he continued, smiling brightly. “You look good. More... content with yourself.”

Kaden’s struggling only increased once the sharp, curved, and bloody blade entered his field of perfect vision. However, once the sickle hovered over him, his movements stopped abruptly, his green eyes went wide, staring down at the intimidating weapon, and his face paled. He dared not to move a muscle as the blade sliced through his shirt in fear that it would cut into his skin.

It was the pastor’s voice that caused his frozen form to shudder ever so slightly––although that was more likely from his torso now being exposed to the cool air. “Good guess, Sherlock,” he snorted, finding some of his defiance once again in that moment. C.A.R.M.A had turned him into what he was today, among a few others. It had been a long, and momentarily painful process to achieve these new abilities, but the end result was worth it, in Kaden’s opinion. A mere human––no matter how well trained––couldn’t possibly go up against a Metahuman like this with even the slightest chance of survival. It wasn’t an insult, it was the truth from what the agent had observed in these last few minutes. At least his super soldier abilities would (hopefully) give him a little more hope of staying alive. 

“Trust me, I plan on surviving for as long as I need to,” he answered the other. “Which will be long enough to see you dead as I walk out of here.” 

Gregory laughed in the face of Kaden’s defiance, the sound bouncing off the walls of the cathedral almost eerily. “I wouldn’t call it a guess,” he answered, turning the empty sockets in his mask toward the helpless man. “I have an approximate knowledge of many things, including the fact that you’re more than meets the eye.” He wasn’t exactly impressive or gifted by his own standards, but he could survive much more efficiently than a normal, run-of-the-mill human. However, unless CARMA sent someone who could handle an entire group of metahumans ( ones with experience in combat, at that ) it was unlikely that even he could survive this.

Not without a miracle.

Lee’s temper couldn’t hold, and she broke into a smile. “I guess that makes two of us. I grew up in a town that had maybe 200 people, so comin’ here was probably the biggest shock of my life.” Of course she’d known that cities could be big, and she’d made trips to New Orleans, but Pansaw was bigger and more modern than anything she’d ever seen. “Oh yeah, I like the university a lot. They got a great crowd down there, and some real good professors. What are your kids majorin’ in? Maybe I got some classes with them.”

“Only two-hundred? What town are you from?” he asked, pleased to find someone who’d grown up under similar circumstances. “My hometown had less than a thousand, myself.” He didn’t remember the exact numbers anymore, especially since his current living situation wasn’t technically in a town -- it was just outside of one, in an unpopulated area. Perfect for building a community. “I’m glad to hear that you’re enjoying it,” he replied politely, his own smile widening at the mention of his own so-called kids. “They’re both majoring in pre-med. I’m very proud. How about yourself? What do you plan to do once you’re out of school?”

Kaden shot a harsh glare at the cult leader as he continued to squirm and writhe on the bloody altar. God, he was going to have to do some serious laundry after this with the blood on his clothes––assuming he even got out of this alive. Judging by the scene he walked in on only minutes before, it seemed like a pretty good chance that the odds were very much against him here. He just hoped that maybe his enhanced healing would give him some capability to withstand those odds until proper back up came. Maybe. 

“Sounds fucking great,” he muttered sarcastically, unable to resist a dramatic eye roll. Geez, these guys were creepy with everything they did. He had no idea what to expect here, but if they were planning on keeping him alive for another hour, surely they weren’t going to start off by burning him like the last victim. The bloody altar proved to him that there would be a few rounds before getting lit up, and multiple horrific ideas of what was possibly going to happen to him ran through his mind. As much as he wanted to be, he was never blind to the dark side of C.A.R.M.A with their torture tactics (often called “interrogation” sometimes) on some of the prisoners. It had to be irony that he was now going to be on the receiving end of such actions from these cloak and dagger assholes. It was terrifying. The panic was coursing through him, despite the fairly neutral, if not concentrated, expression as he increased his fight against the thick and heavy chains. Damn, why didn’t he get the enhanced strength? “Really. Fuckin’. Great.”

If Gregory noticed Kaden’s glare, he didn’t make any indication of it. Of course, it was perfectly natural for him to find the situation displeasing, given his current status as another offering laid bare across the altar -- most sacrifices weren’t grateful for the opportunity. The few that were came from a particularly loyal part of his community, those who’d gleefully taken lives in his ( and their gods’ ) name and would eagerly give their own for the cause. Kaden, who’d made an enemy of his so-called family, was obviously no such man -- not that it mattered. His religion didn’t call for a willing sacrifice; if they rejected purity, it was well within the realms of his twisted ‘morality’ to force it upon them all the same. Anything else was blasphemy.

Amusement flickered in his eerie gaze as the agent spoke, though it was the only acknowledgement he gave. After a moment he turned to one of the other skull-masked ( and silent ) members of his circle, leaning in to whisper something to them. As soon as he leaned back the younger person stepped forward, a blood-soaked sickle clasped in their hand. In a slow, purposeful movement, they lowered the blade to cut through Kaden’s shirt, dragging it carefully as to not break through his skin -- at least, for the moment. 

“Yeah, I’m sure they were. Playing cute ain’t gonna get you out trouble that easy,” Lee scolded, making a mental note to ground them when they got home. Not that they could really be grounded, considering they hardly left the base, but she’d do her best. “Oh, for sure,” she agreed, looking back up at the man. “When I first got here, it took me near a month to figure out where all my classes were down at the campus. And don’t even get me started on the rest of the city.”

He chuckled softly as their mother scolded them, knowing that it was more than likely they were in for some proper discipline when they got home -- wherever home happened to be. Hopefully that would discourage them from wandering off in the future. While he wasn’t a danger ( at least, not to them in particular ), Pansaw was far from a safe haven. “I’m still learning the ins and outs myself,” he admitted with a smile, “it’s a much larger city than I’m used to.” While Nebraska had its fair share, he’d become accustomed to the community he’d built in one of its smaller towns. “Do you enjoy your classes down at the college? I have a few children there, myself, and they say it’s a better experience than they’d thought it would be.”

Chan-bye couldn’t help his curiosity as he picked up a few items, wondering what they were. Only to whip his head around, and stare up with wide guilty eyes; and just stared. Not really knowing what else to do, he merely accepted the hand to pull himself up. “I’m sorry….I just…I was, I uh…didn’t…sorry.” Byeol apologized, and as soon as the man bent down to pick up the rest of the objects knocked over; the young rebel scout was rushing back to the ground, to help clean up again. 

“Please! I can help! It’s my fault, I should have been looking where I was going, and I shouldn’t have been wandering around your campsite, and–” He cut off, taking a second to actually breathe, and then starting up again. “Oh…yeah, I’m fine…it uhm…it doesn’t hurt too much.” With his enhanced endurance, it would take numerous trips into the table, for him to actually feel any of the pain. “Uhm…so..what is all of this? Not to be like nosey! But! Uhm…it looks like super cool. Is it like…wizard stuff…are you…a wizard? Cause if you are….can you like…show to me a spell? Or…can you tell me my fortune? I love divination, and have like tarot cards and everything! I’m really good with them, and I could totally show you sometime, and….well…yeah, you know.” Byeol finished looking up smiling, and eyes shining with excitement.

His amused smile didn’t falter as the younger man apologized, and he waved it away with a quick flick of his wrist. “You really don’t need to apologize, I promise,” he answered kindly, helping him to his feet. “Accidents happen, and as far as I can see, you didn’t break anything.” Not that it would’ve been particularly bothersome if he had -- the objects in question, while old, were either easily fixed or easily replaced. Anything less was foolish to have out in the open, regardless of the confidence that they wouldn’t be discovered for what they truly were. He hesitated as the stranger dove back to help with his ritualistic items, unease washing through him for a moment before he finally shoved it aside. It was unlikely anyone’s first thought would be sacrificial supplies and in such a case, he felt that this man would be easily disposed of.

“Calm down,” he said, his voice soothing, “you’re not in any trouble. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. This is public property, is it not? I would be foolish not to expect the occasional visitor.” There was something hopelessly neurotic about this stranger, but being the patient man he was, he didn’t allow it to bother him much. The less stable were much more likely to be sympathetic to his cause -- should the desire to chance enlightening him arise -- and tended not to report anything they couldn’t understand. Case in point: the almost ridiculous amount of questions that scattered from the younger man’s mouth. “A wizard?” he repeated, chuckling softly. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m a man of God. Witchcraft is frowned upon in the Church, at least for those of us who take it upon ourselves to teach to others.” Not exactly an answer, but it wasn’t technically a lie -- by day he was certainly seen as a friendly, well-to-do pastor of the local church. “But I have no problem with watching someone else perform it. Is it a hobby for you?”

There was only one thing Lee feared more than CARMA, and that was loosing their kids. Now, it seemed like that fear was coming true. She’d turned around for just one second and when she looked back, Ivy and Jackson had disappeared into the city. Immediately, Lee’s mind flew into panic mode. What if they’d been kidnapped? What if they’d run off and got hurt? She frantically scanned the crowd, trying to see through the crowds. “Ivy! Jackson!” she shouted, but her voice seemed lost among the noise of the city.  After what seemed like an eternity of walking around and calling, Lee spotted them with someone and dashed over. As soon as she reached them, Lee knelt down to their level, torn between anger and relief. “Jesus, don’t you two even run off like that again, you hear me?” When the two nodded, she hugged them tightly and looked up at the person who’d found them. “Thank you. I don’t they didn’t cause no trouble.”

He’d been on his way to his church when he came across the lost children, and as the paragon of goodness he made himself out to be, he offered to help them find their missing parent. With his particular abilities, it wasn’t difficult to come up with some idea of what their parent might looks like, but before he could do much more than reassure them, their mother seemed to happen upon the scene. He stepped back and adjusted his collar as she scolded them for running off, offering a warm smile as she addressed him. “Nothing of the sort,” he assured them, “they seem well behaved.” At least, as well-behaved as children could be, given how they’d found him in the first place. Nothing discipline could fix with time. “Pansaw is easy to get lost in, though, isn’t it?"

Kaden’s face was completely smug for just a moment when he managed to crack the boney mask with his punch. Unfortunately, that smugness didn’t last very long as Gregory’s mask repaired itself back to perfection. “What the hell…” he muttered. He didn’t have much time to be standing there in shock over such a small thing because now he had another dilemma to deal with. 

“Hey––” the agent started when the bloody chains clinked towards him and wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. He grunted as he was dragged back to the altar and pulled onto it. No matter how much he struggled and fought against the restraints, they weren’t loosening. It was safe to say that he was panicking just a little now, and despite how hard he tried to keep it hidden in his expression, it was not exactly working out for him. Shit. Kaden shifted this way and that in his bonds to no avail of much movement. He couldn’t even call for back up. He was hoping that the tracer C.A.R.M.A had implanted in him would be enough for C.A.R.M.A to know where he was and to send another agent or two behind him soon. 

“Let me go,” he warned the other man, proud that he managed to keep his voice from shaking. He sounded pretty confident and stern in his tone as he glared at Gregory. “Let me go now, or things will be so much worse for you once my back up arrives.” It was a total bluff, sure, but creepy cult dude didn’t know that he was sort of lying, now did he? 

The agent’s surprise was easy enough to understand, although Gregory had to admit that he’d been thinking his regeneration wouldn’t be anything astounding. Surely someone of his profession had seen something like it before? Perhaps he just wasn’t used to less flesh-like material piecing itself back together... or maybe he’d been hoping for the dumb luck that his pitiful excuse for a strike would be enough to work towards subduing him. Whatever the case, he didn’t ponder over the situation for long, instead more focused on the task of forcibly chaining Kaden down onto the blood-soaked alter and thus extending an ( unwanted ) invitation into their activities. 

Something like amusement seemed to flicker in his otherwise corpse-like demeanor as the newest addition to their ritual snapped at him, and he crossed his arms lazily over his cloaked chest. “Agent, you can’t possibly think I’m going to release you now,” he drawled, clucking his tongue as though he were scolding a child -- in a way, he felt like he was. “You’ve already gotten yourself too involved for that, and should any of your comrades decide to join us, I’m sure we can find time to see to them as well.” There wasn’t any rush to their sacrifices, and the more offerings were given to their Gods, the better -- he’d never turn any victims away. 

“Shit,” Kaden muttered as his stream of bullets were easily deflected like they were nothing. And none of the robed bastards didn’t even flinch. In all honesty, that part pissed him off the most. He sheathed his weapon, figuring there was no point in wasting any more ammo if that bullshit was going to happen again. If long range tactics weren’t going to work, he’d have to resort to short range. He shifted on one foot, his gaze running over the line of targets once more almost as if he were deciding which one to lunge at first. 

Screw it. Go for the big boss. 

Perching on the balls of his feet for a second, the agent rushed forward, using a burst of superhuman speed to launch himself right down the long aisle and in front of the boney masked leader in less than a second. “How’s this for consequences?” he said in a gruff tone, raising his fist and using the momentum from his run to throw a hard punch right at Gregory as he came to a halt in front of him.

An invisible smile graced his lips as Kaden holstered his gun, pleased that he’d finally seemed to realize that human weapons were no match for their kind -- not them in particular, anyway. It took much more than mere metal to fell even one of them, especially when the Pastor himself had extensive abilities in keeping them alive. Organic tissue was his specialty, and making sure it remained alive and well was only one of the few abilities he’d discovered over the years. This was good for those who decided to join his ranks and seek purity; not so much for those who dared to oppose him. It made him more than a match for most who were moronic enough to cross him.

Usually Chan-bye didn’t stay in fox form for long periods of time, preferring to just do it daily for short increments of time. But he’d had had a rather stressful day yesterday, and had ended up roaming around the small forest area of Pansaw. Hoping to clear his mind. During his wandering he’d stumbled upon a what looked like some campers, and he couldn’t help but be a little nosey; plus if they saw him, they wouldn’t think anything of it. Well…at least he’d hoped. He wasn’t sure how many feral foxes just sat and watched what people did. 

After watching for a little, he grew bored and trotted off deeper into the woods. Enjoying the natural scenery and crisp air, eventually he lost track of time though; and ended up taking shelter in the small little den he’d stashed his bag at. It was a little strange at first, but soon enough he was drifting off to sleep. Once waking up, he stretched and yawned before deciding to switch forms. There wouldn’t be anyone around to see him change, so he’d just move quickly. As soon as he was dressed in his sweater and jeans, he just ran his fingers through his already tousled hair; and began walking blearily back towards the city. Still half asleep and absentmindedly picking out a few small leaves from his hair, Chan-bye hadn’t noticed he was wandering through the little campsite he’d seen just the day previous. Until he was walking and knocking over the little table that was set up there.

“A-Ah. Uh oh…” He said in a quiet gasp, trying to pick up everything and put it back in order. Wondering if he’d woken any of the people, he rushed to clean up his mess. “Maybe if I clean up quick…they’re not going to notice…so clumsy Chan-bye…why.” He muttered almost frantically, not noticing the other person walking nearer to him; until the shadow fell over his crouched form. “U-h…I’m so very sorry sir…I’ll clean it up! I’m sorry, I just..I wasn’t paying attention and..yeah…I’ll go…”

@gregoryreign

Normally, the grounds for a ritual was much grander than the makeshift campsite he and his few local followers had set up, but for a temporary location it’d done quite nicely. The sacrifice and celebration that’d followed had gone uninterrupted and as according to plan, and not for the first time his power had been restored -- and the faith his family had in him reignited. In his line of work he’d found that nothing ( nothing ) got them well and charged up like an offering to their Gods, and with their energy spent and spirits rejuvenated they’d been sent off to a long and well-earned slumber... all but one of them, anyway. The good pastor himself had elected to stay and keep watch for the rest of the night and early morning, allowing those that had participated in the ritual to return to their daily tasks while he remained to make sure their site was properly cleansed.

It was only when he turned his back for a moment that the unexpected occurred. 

The sound of one of the remaining tables drew him away from his clean-up and back to the ritual site, curiosity driving him to find the source of the noise. What he found was a curious young man, crouched over and cleaning up the things he’d knocked onto the ground -- much more courteously than he’d expect from someone his age. “No need to apologize, son,” he said, extending a hand to pick him up off the ground, “accidents happen all the time. I’ll get the rest of this.” No need to have another snooping around sacrificial supplies -- it would likely look odd to anyone who didn’t belong to his close circle of followers. "Regardless, are you quite alright? That table can be hard on the knees,” he continued, his tone as calm and soft as though he were speaking to his daytime crowds -- nothing that would indicate he was anything out of the ordinary. “I know from experience.”

“You must think pretty highly of yourselves if you think you’re all impervious to bullets,” Kaden scoffed. His sharpened gaze was already darting around the room, trying to judge each and every one of these masked cult members’ threat levels from highest to lowest. Obviously––without a doubt––the boney looking leader seemed to be the highest. That was about the most he could determine since the masks and cloaks covered most of their figures, and the agent had no information on any of these Metahuman abilities. All he knew from his Smart Eye was that there were definitely psionic Metas here. 

The only thing left was to decide how to go about ending this little…ritual thing. He could always charge the group, take out the leader first, and hope that was enough to scare the underlings off if their alpha was capable of being defeated. It was far too late for the victim in the fire now, he was assuming. They were already charred and hadn’t made another sound since the screaming had stopped. There was no reason to prioritize them over taking out the strange herd of weirdos at this point. 

Frankly, Kaden didn’t want to get too close to them for now, so he trained his gun on one of the members to the far left of the leader, and pulled the trigger with perfect aim at their chest. He shifted his aim directly to the right of the leader now, and repeated the action at that cloaked figure. He wasn’t looking to waste his ammo here, but maybe firing shots would scare them into realizing he was dead serious in living up to his promise of taking them out. His last target––for the moment––was the leader himself now. “Bite me,” he scowled as he took aim and fired off two bullets at him this time. 

A deep, rattling chuckle echoed through the room, Kaden’s defiance -- or rather, his doubt -- only proving to enhance his amusement. “Impervious? Perhaps not. That doesn’t make it an effective weapon." Even if one of his children were shot, it would be all too easy for him to undo the damage... provided they weren’t fatally injured before he could reach them. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only metahuman in the room, and while his own abilities weren’t immediately useful for conjuring protective shields, others in his circle were adept at doing just that. After all, what was the point of a balanced organization without the, well, balance? He knew well that defensive mutations were just as valuable, if not moreso, than those used for offensive purposes.

Despite his inability to act immediately, Gregory was far from assuming that he wouldn’t attack. Agent types, while they had a tendency to be foolhardy and difficult to reason with, were far from unpredictable, and as soon as he’d refused to relinquish his weapon the leader had been prepared for him to fire it off. So too, were those beside him, and the instant the sound of the bullet rang through the building, the Guardian to his right had leapt into action with a blue, almost electrical burst of energy -- energy that easily deflected the bullets headed their way. The rest of the circle, faithful enough to believe in both him and themselves, stood motionless in their wake.