The death of imagination

The situation was screwed, absolutely and completely screwed.
Browbeat sighed to himself, he was new to the team, and had been stuck manning the console, so he hadn't had the…. experience, of dealing with just whatever the hell cape now called 'The Alice Of Wonderland', or just Alice.

It had been an experience, that if he had to term it, it had been an experience that had broken his fellow wards.

Aegis and Gallant would lurk in corridors, speaking in hushed tones with each other.

Shadow Stalker was currently in the downstairs cells, with electrified anklets, collar and bracelets. She was currently considered culpable for Alice's actions. It was a rare occasion where the person who cause a trigger event was still alive, but when they were, they were considered to be at least partially responsible for the person actions within the next twenty four hours to a week, however at this point do to the extreme nature of the trigger event, as well as its preceding, and now following events, a rare exception was being made, and the more crimes that Alice committed, the worse the sentence would be opposed.

And… Well, she was already at life in prison, next step up was execution, and after that was the bird cage, considered by many to even worse.

Vista was being kept in quarantine due to her exposure to the Red Queens emotional manipulation effects. Due to her exposure the queens aura, Vistas emotions were shifting up and down, she had even been diagnosed by PRT psychologists with PTSD and possible power induced psychosis. The issue with this, was that along with Vistas formidable Shaker abilities, somehow her overexposure to the queens aura had given her a slight brute rating, nothing anywhere near Alexandrias level, but nevertheless, in testing she had been able to physically dent steel plates with her fist.

Triumph was relatively okay, he said he didn't remember anything, but sometimes Browbeat could hear him scream and cry out in his sleep.

Kid win… He was now committed to an asylum, the ward was a drooling, emaciated wreck. His exposure to the white queen had erased a lot of his higher brain functions. He could still speak, but with twitches and seizures almost every minute, and periods of time where he would forget where he was, Kid Win had been honorably discharged from the wards.

Hell, even the two thirds of the triumvirate were in town, with rumors being circulated that the third was supposed to come if the situation continued for much longer, Piggot had seemed sicker than usual after the two heroes had their talk with her.

Browbeat sighed as he stood up, the manipulation of his flesh cracking each joint as he got ready for another day of patrol.

Scene Break

Taylor whistled to herself as she skipped down emptyfull hallways.

She was thrilleddisappointed with how things were going, after all if they continued to go the way they were, shed have lots of new friendsenemies.

The only questionanswer was wether or not she would have fun doing it.

Of course, SheherI would have to get her hands dirty.

Scene Break

Across the emptying city, four forces began to martial themselves, an empire of iron and steel, built on sand, a collection of slaves, who's master was pride made flesh, a rapidly emptying group of drug peddlers, who's leaders were the pardons of filth and disease. And finally the last remaining arm of a slowly dying government, using its last gasp of strength to attempt to enforce its will.

But below the city, a final force was already ready, its chaos ready to spread like oil from a leaking tanker.

Its master was a broken girl, who one after another, her connections, her spirit, her family, were taken and broken.

And now the remains, the question, the concern is what remains.

The girl? Or the Trauma?

The MadDnESS?

Scene Break

At his home, a broken man sat, a pistol, a relic from his fathers father sat on the table in front of him. He'd been staring at it for the past hour.

Hed already tried. It hadn't worked.

Whatever he did, whatever he tried, it repaired itself, wether through fire, water, drug or blade. He had survived. He simply could not be harmed, and it was torture.

He had failed to protect his daughter, he had failed to do what was needed. He had failed his wife and himself.

He turned around when a glowing purple and black tear opened itself behind him, and a woman in a fedora stepped out. She said nothing, merely held out one hand.

He took it and stepped through.

Scene Break

"Tomorrow the invasion occurs, during it, we must deal with the monster appropriately if we are to gain what we desire."

"Indeed. However, the question is, will we be able to exert ourselves to a sufficient degree during that time, in order to crack open the defense?"

"…"

"Unknown. I'm working on some things that should make it easier on us of course, but I don't know wether or not they'll succeed of course. Not until we try them at least."

"Do we have a backup plan for what happens if we fail?"

"No."

"Well…"

"No."

"Im just saying that in the end, she is a viable alternative."

"No She is Not."

"Fine, fine. Well do it your way, but if it fails, we do it mine. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"…"

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed darling."

"Agreed."

End of Chapter

Only a few more to go…