Chapter 41: Eye of the Storm pt. IV

7 days after beginning of Chaos invasion

In seven days of near endless fighting, Los Angeles had been gutted. Homes were ruined, shops were ransacked, and entire city blocks were nothing but piles of smoking rubble. To the citizens of this once grand city, it was a scene straight out of their nightmares. To Krieg, it was just another battlefield.

"Make sure those barricades are sturdy enough," he instructed in passing as he walked by a group of construction workers in the midst of turning a highway into an impenetrable line of defense. The Chaos scourge may have been purged from the city, but they would eventually be back. And this time, they would be ready for it.

"Yes, sir!" they responded, giving a quick salute before returning to work. Even as Krieg continued his inspection of the fledgling defensive line, watching citizens work and salute like proper soldiers, he could not deny the strange feeling it evoked in him. Was that what people referred to as nostalgia? If it was, Krieg most certainly could get used to it.

"Krieg, do you read me?" Steele's voice suddenly came from Krieg's comm unit.

"I hear you, go ahead," he responded, already deviating his course towards the nearest operable vehicle.

"We've got some issues here at HQ. We need you here as soon as possible," that did not bode well as far as Krieg was concerned.

"Understood, heading back now," then he cut the link and commandeered the first driver he laid eyes upon. "Los Angeles Police Headquarter, now,"

The driver took one look at his attire, processed his words, then jumped into the driver seat without uttering so much as a single word. Then they were off, the driver maneuvering through the bombed out ruins with practiced ease. Efficient and obedient, Krieg liked that.

"Name?" Krieg simply asked, to the quite visible surprise of the driver.

"Lawrence Jones, sir, though my friends just call me Larry," he eventually responded, just as they pulled up outside the police headquarter, the front of it crammed to the brim with people.

"Keep up the good work, Lawrence, the fight is far from over," was all Krieg said before he was out of the car and making his way through the crowd. Most were here on official and important business, and they recognized his urgency and did their best of make room for him. Others however…

"Cat Grant of the GBS Network! I would like a comment about present circumstances!" and suddenly Krieg had a microphone shoved into his face, and he could spot a camera man hovering in his periphery. Annoying.

"Hmph," Krieg was just as quick to shove the microphone, and the blonde woman holding it, aside and continue on his way, ignoring the cries of protest coming from behind him.

"Reporters," he spat out as he entered the building, finally shielded from their infernal reach. He dearly would have loved to shoot the lot of them, but had been convinced otherwise by Steele. Something about loss of morale from an act of senseless slaughter or other. But that was neither here nor there, as he approached his target. How did he know it was the right place?

"YOU CAN'T BE FUCKING SERIOUS?!" the raised voices booming out of the doorway, coupled with how everyone tried to give said doorway as wide berth, was telling enough for him.

"Sir, I know this may seem shocking, but-"

"Shocking?! That's the word you use?! SHOCKING?! You're collaborating with two known international criminals, one of which is a traitor to boot!" not a voice Krieg was familiar with. New recruits from the countryside?

"And you should be grateful we're even putting up with your bullcrap, or your ass would've been toast by now," and that snarky response, spoken by an annoyingly familiar voice, told Krieg all he needed to know about the root cause of this dispute.

"Is that a threat, young lady?" alright, sounded like things were about to get truly heated in there, so Krieg made his move and barged in, finding Ravager almost nose to nose with a man in military garb. The former was already gripping the hilt of one of her swords, the latter ready to draw his sidearm.

"Wanna find out, tough guy?" Ravager's challenge had everyone taking a step away from the increasingly hostile duo. Except for Deathstroke, casually lingering in a corner and watching the proceedings with amusement, and Krieg, who marched straight up to the bickering duo.

"Enough!" he commanded as he shoved them aside from one another. "I will not have infighting here while the true enemy still draws breath,"

Ravager, barely even fazed by the push, just sneered as she glared at the military officer. "Don't blame me, soldier boy. Blame this pompous asshole who can't even do his job properly,"

"Having been forced to endure your existence for some time now, I can quite confidently state that whatever grievances he has with you are well-founded," then, without even waiting for a response, Krieg turned his attention fully to the newcomer. "However, be that as it may, I can ill afford to have our already limited manpower be further depleted by infighting. If you are unable to abide by this, then I must request that you leave Los Angeles,"

The man, whose identity still remained unknown to Krieg, cast one last murderous glare over Krieg's shoulder before releasing a heavy sigh. "I suppose I can keep my finger off the trigger until we've beaten the bigger baddie. Just make sure that those two bastards are nowhere near my position,"

A miniscule nod was all the indication of Krieg's satisfaction. "Good. Now then, I believe proper introductions are in order. Krieg, former Justice League associate and current leader of the Los Angeles PDF,"

The man raised an eyebrow at him. "PDF? Not something I'm familiar with. However, I'm quite familiar with you, word tends to spread quite rapidly about capes, especially those ballsy enough to raise a private army," then a hand was extended for a handshake. "Colonel Roy Morgan, US Army. I'm the unofficial commander of a hodgepodge of Army, Air Force and National Guard units that survived the initial onslaught,"

Krieg quickly accepted the offered handshake. "Your presence will greatly help in bolstering our defenses. How many troops do you have under your command?"

"Around 400, plus 3 APC's,"

"We will be sure to put them to good use. Now, what are the status of our defenses? I was only able to do a partial inspection before I was called away," as soon as those words left Krieg's mouth, Steele gestured towards the city map hung up on a nearby wall.

"Evacuation of the suburbs are complete by now, and we've got sweeper teams scavenging anything of value and booby trapping every square inch of it. Meanwhile, our defensive line along Hollywood Hills is progressing nicely, with the terrain favoring the defender. We currently have an unbroken line of trenches and barricades running along the Los Angeles River from John Ferraro Athletics Field to the crossroads of Ventura Freeway and San Diego Freeway. However, I'm worried about our eastern lines from Vineyard to Altacanyada, as those will be fought on equal grounds with the enemy," even as Steele explained the situation, rapidly pointing out each zone on the map, Krieg felt a brief swell of bitterness as he glared at the portions of the map north of their defensive line.

Nearly half of the city surrendered without so much as a fight, left as a glorified minefield to slow an attacker down rather than actually stopping them. It went against the doctrine of the Death Korps, to give ground so easily even before the enemy had been sighted. But this was not the Death Korps, and most of those who will be manning the trenches are not true soldiers. They did not possess the strength of will like he did, the drive to sacrifice everything and everyone for the cause.

As his erstwhile colleagues had argued for hours when Krieg first proposed his defensive plans, they would not be able to handle such pressure. Put so many scared and inexperienced militias into such a meatgrinder, and his army would disintegrate within a matter of hours. It irked him greatly, being forced to rely on such unreliable rabble, but what choice did he have at this point anyway?

"What about a coastal or aerial assault? Do we have anything against that?" Deathstroke suddenly spoke up for the first time, a fact which many took great offense to if the multitude of glares were anything to go by.

When someone finally stepped forward to address the question, it was done with visible reluctance. "We have enough reserves to defend the harbor in the event of an amphibious assault, but we have no real defense against air attacks. Though judging by what we've seen of the enemy so far, I doubt they'll be in possession of proper air forces,"

"Do not underestimate the enemy," Krieg suddenly cut in, drawing everyone's attention. "When trapped between our guns and their masters' wrath, the heretics are capable of surprising feats of engineering with what little they have available,"

"So what are you saying? Hope for the best but expect the worst?" one of the officers piped up, and Krieg just shook his head.

"Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment," he simply stated, putting an even deeper dampening on the mood.

"In any case, we all have our assignments. The enemy could come back at any time, so let's be prepared for when they do," Steele was quick to interject, which had everyone nodding in agreement before beginning to exit the room.

"Ravager, a moment of your time, please," Krieg requested. Arching an eyebrow at him, she nevertheless agreed with a silent shrug. The rest filed out, many casting curious looks at the duo, until there were only the two of them left.

"So, what's on your mind, soldier boy?" she asked once the door closed, hands on her hips. It left her completely defenseless to Krieg's fist that smashed straight into her face, sending her toppling over and crashing into the wall.

"Oooh, getting feisty now?" and yet she seemed completely untroubled by the blow as she smiled up at Krieg.

"That will be the last time you provoke one of my soldiers, or the next time I will employ deadlier means of discipline," he stated as he glared down at her.

A dangerous gleam appeared in her lone eye, and she seemed to coil up like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. "That sounds like fighting talk to me. Think you got what it takes to go toe to toe with me for real this time?"

"On my own? No, I would never stand a chance against you," then, he stepped forward until they were nearly touching, now looming above her. "But take into consideration that we are in the heart of the Lo Angeles PDF. And if a fight to the death were to break out between us, who do you think they would choose to support?"

A sneer appeared on her face at that as she straightened up until they were face to face. "Hiding behind toy soldiers? I thought you had more balls than that, Krieg,"

Krieg's hand came to rest on his holstered pistol. "I use any means necessary to achieve victory, and I am willing to pay any price required. Do not push me, Ravager, that will be your only warning,"

The two of them remained like that for what felt like an eternity, staring each other down and waiting to see who would break first. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, with only the faint sound of footsteps from the outside hall serving as an indication of time passed.

"You know…" Ravager then began, tongue coming out to lick her lips. "I can't decide whether I want to gut you were you stand or pin you to the desk and have my way with you,"

"Your choice, but I will warn you right now that both options will end very poorly for you," Krieg cautioned, grip on his pistol growing tighter.

"So you say," she whispered, leaning forward until she was almost touching his mask. A tense moment passed, and then Ravager withdrew with a resigned sigh.

"Fine, I'll try to play nice with your little collection of toys. Just don't expect me to babysit them when the fighting starts," she relented as she squeezed past him.

"As long as you kill the enemy and not our own, I could not possibly care less what you do on the battlefield," Krieg declared, still unmoving from his spot.

"Always the charmer. See ya when the blood starts flowing," and then Ravager was out the door and gone among the masses.

"What I would give right now for an explosive collar," Krieg lamented to himself as he exited the room, only to spot Deathstroke loitering just down the hall. Not one to believe in coincidences, Krieg walked right up to him and stared straight into his unmasked face. Why does it look so familiar?

"I take it you eavesdropped on our conversation," Krieg went straight to the point, and Deathstroke merely gave him an idle glance as he toyed around with the mask in his hands.

"And what if I did?" he inquired in turn.

A shrug was what he got in response. "Depends on how much you heard,"

It brought out a light chuckle from the older man. "More than enough, I'd say,"

"Good, then I don't need to repeat myself and simply clarify that the same applies to you as well," Krieg stated. That earned him Deathstroke's full attention.

"Threatening Ravager is one thing, boy. But you're a few decades too young if you hope to bring me to heel like that," he warned as one hand landed on his belt, which was no doubt stacked full of hidden weaponry.

"I never make threats, Deathstroke, I make promises," Krieg assured him, his own hands now resting on his belt.

Now Deathstroke stopped slouching against the wall and stood to his full height. "And you think you've got what it takes to keep that promise?"

But Krieg stood his ground, refusing to even so much as flinch in Deathstroke's presence. "Keep pushing me and you will find out for yourself,"

A beat of silence, then Deathstroke's booming laughter echoed down the hallway. Many a surprised look was thrown their way, but neither one paid them any mind.

"Still got that spark in you, I see. That drive to defy the odds no matter how bleak they may seem," Deathstroke commented with a smile on his face. And why did he almost sound proud of that?

"I trust then that there will be no further incidents," Krieg requested, thoroughly fed up by both father and daughter.

"You have nothing to worry about from us. Just keep your soldiers in line, and everything will work out," Deathstroke assured him before donning his mask and walking away. But then he stopped and gave Krieg a parting word over his shoulder.

"Once this war is over, a lot of things will change, your standing among the Justice League least of all. You better be prepared for the fallout from all of this," and then he was gone as well before Krieg could muster a response.

"Frak the Justice League," Krieg answered, even though none could hear him.

"My patience is wearing thin. How much longer?" Katana's words had the hooded man tending to the symbols briefly turn towards her with scornful eyes.

"Art like this cannot be rushed, my lady. Have patience and your desires will be fulfilled," he calmly explained. Less than a second later, he found the edge of Soultaker resting against his jugular.

"I have been patient for days, wretch. Azkillon promised me my husband back, and yet I've received nothing but more promises and requests for patience. Well, that patience is starting to run thin, so I'd suggest you work faster," she stated with murder in her eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down the priest's cheek, but he gave no other sign of his unease.

"Rest assured, the spell is almost complete, I am just preparing the final incantations before we begin. Then, it will restore your beloved back to life," he assured her, though it did little to dissuade her foul mood.

"It had better," she warned before withdrawing once again, though still within easy strike distance should the priest disappoint her again. With the blade gone from his throat, the priest returned to drawing the various symbols on the ground, chanting alien and horrid words over each of them. All around stood choirs of acolytes in silence, each of them inscribed from head to toe with blasphemous runes that pulsated in rhythm with the priest's chanting.

Then, the priest ceased his work and turned to fully face Katana. "We're almost ready now, we just need one last piece,"

"And that would be?" she inquired of him.

"Your sword," and all but visibly recoiled at his answer.

"You trying to trick me here? Trying to disarm me for your own schemes?" she all but hissed at him, Soultaker already raised and ready to be plunged into the priest's chest.

"No such thing, my dear, I simply need it to access your husband's soul. He is trapped within the blade, yes?"

Reluctantly, the blade was lowered and she gave a hesitant nod. "He is,"

"Then unless you want his body to be returned as nothing but an empty husk, you will give me the sword so that I may free his soul as well. And I'd suggest you make up your mind fast, for the ritual is already prepared and ready to be cast," there was no mistaking the impatient tone in the priest's voice as he beckoned for the sword.

"What happened to being patient?" Katana could not help but ask as she slowly, and with deep hesitance, handed him the sword.

"What happened to being in a hurry?" he simply countered once the sword was in his grasp. Then, he strode back to the ritual circle and placed the sword at its center.

"Bring in the sacrifice!" he then commanded, sending some of his acolytes scurrying out of the hall. They soon came back carrying an unconscious man between them. Katana idly noted that he was of roughly the same height and build as her husband, and carried some vaguely similar features.

"Took us days to find a specimen that roughly matched your husband. But do not worry, the ritual will take care of the rest for us. When he rises again, he will be your husband in both body and soul," the priest hastily explained, but Katana barely paid attention to his words at that point. As long as they were reunited again, she would be content. Not once did she spare a thought to the poor soul about to be sacrificed for her benefit.

Soon enough, the victim was strapped down next to the sword, and then the candles were lit and the chanting began anew. But this time, the choir joined in, the words reverberating through the hall with the combined might of their unholy song. A foul odor entered the room, and the wisps of smoke drifting from the candles began twisting and turning, taking on inhuman and grotesque shapes that screamed in agony without uttering so much as a peep. Then the candlelight began to mold themselves, all but dancing by their own whim as every spectrum of color flashed forth from them. All the while, the chanting continued, now joined by even more voices that seemed to come from all around Katana and yet from nowhere at the same time.

Then, something stirred in the Soultaker. The blade itself became akin to a window, and something was writhing on the other side, trying to force its way out. Slowly, wisps of ethereal energy began seeping out of the sword, first in the vague shape of grasping fingers, then a flailing hand, then a whole arm. Soon the body of a humanoid form had taken shape, flailing about within the confines of the ritual circle.

Throughout all of this, Katana watched transfixed, hope and longing reigniting in her soul as she watched what should have been an impossibility happen before her very eyes. Without even realizing it herself, she began walking towards the ethereal form, desperate to embrace her long lost love yet again. But she was then firmly stopped by the priest before she strayed anywhere near the circle.

"Do not enter just yet! The ritual is not complete! Any distractions or interruptions could have dire consequences!" he hissed at her. And for once, Katana allowed herself to be cowed and stepped back yet again. With a near catastrophe averted, the priest returned his attention to the ritual, now channeling the essence of the Warp into the sacrificial victim. At first, there was no reaction as the foul and corruptive energy manifested in the air. And still no reaction as the energy began slithering its way into the victim.

Then, his eyes flew wide open, and the screaming began. He writhed and wailed within his bindings, feebly resisting the painful changes wrought to him. It was all in vain, as with the sudden stench of cooked flesh and the noise of shattering bones, his very body was molded into a completely new shape. Skin and flesh melted and ran like hot wax, only to be scooped up by invisible hands and molded like a clay sculpture. His very skeletal structure creaked and groaned, then shattered over and over before being reassembled in a new shape. All the while, the screaming never ceased.

"Now!" the priest shouted, and then the wisps of smoke cam alive again. They struck like vipers, coiling around the ethereal being with the strength of chains. Then they began dragging the being towards the still screaming victim, but the being fought back like a fish caught on a hook.

"What are you doing to him?!" Katana demanded, all but ready to throttle the priest at the sight of her beloved being manhandled in such a fashion.

"Completing the ritual. Have no fear, your husband will remain unharmed. He's just confused and disoriented after being trapped within the Soultaker for so long," the priest calmly explained, which had Katana growling at him but still stepping back again.

"You better not be lying to me here," she threatened as she continued to watch the frantic struggle with ever growing concern. Despite its best efforts, the soul was dragged over to the body, and then forced inside. Both soul and body gave a last scream together, their voices blending together until the sacrifice's voice slowly faded away. Then there was only one voice screaming, her husband's voice. Then he grew still, and all was quiet again. Slowly, the otherworldly phenomenons faded away, and soon everything as back to normal yet again.

"Congratulations, Katana. Your husband lives yet again," the priest said, and that was all the excuse that Katana needed as she rushed forward to embrace her husband.

"Maseo! Maseo! It's me, Tatsu! Can you hear me?" she gently called out to him as she cradled his head in her lap. Unnoticed by her, the priest and his entourage began to discreetly vacate the room.

"Please wake up. Please show me that it wasn't all in vain," she all but begged him him as she shook him gently. Then, very slowly, he began to stir. Quiet mumbling from his mouth, then his eyelids twitching, and then his eyes were open and staring into hers.

"Hey there," Katana couldn't even keep the tears of joy from freely pouring out of her eyes, a happy smile on her face for the first time in years. At first, he said nothing in return, simply staring at her face. Then…

"YYAAARGH!" even as he began screaming like a wild animal, he lunged forward and tried to tear her face off with his teeth. Reflexes beaten into her across decades allowed her to evade the first lunge and then roll clear of his mindless flailing.

"Stop, it's me! You're safe now, there's no danger!" Katana tried to call out to him, but he gave no indication that he had even heard her words.

"AWOOOOUL!" he howled, bloodshot eyes empty of all save a mindless need for death as he ran towards her on all fours.

"STOP, PLEASE!" she begged of him, but to no avail as he leaped at her again. He bit and clawed at her, heedless of anything except trying to tear her to bits, she managed to knock his clumsy strikes away from her before a roundhouse kick knocked him into a wall. Free to move again, Katana rushed over to the Soultaker and grabbed hold of it again.

"Come to your senses, please!" she shouted at him, but he had lost all interest in her. Now he was clawing at the walls until his nails broke apart and then banged his head against it, never once ceasing his bestial wailing.

"Don't make me do this!" she shouted, bringing his attention back to her. Face completely drenched in his own blood, with no trace of any form of intelligence, he ran at her again with a shriek.

"PLEASE!" her final plea went unheeded as he lunged towards her. Instincts took hold of her yet again, and there was then a wet squelch as he impaled himself on the Soultaker, raised to ward off the attack. There was a short stillness between them, then he released a final gasp before falling over. He did not rise again.

"No no no no no no…" a devastated Katana whispered over and over as she crawled to his side, desperately searching for a pulse. She found none.

"No, not again, please not again," she wept as she frantically shook his unmoving body. "Get up! Please get up! Don't put me through this again!"

But he remained unmoving, lying still in a growing pool of his own blood. At that point, something snapped within Katana's mind, something that had been slowly eroded and gnawed upon by the horrors she had been forced to witness ever since joining Chaos. She screamed and wept as she embraced her beloved one last time, already feeling his body grow cold to the touch.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried out as she sobbed into his chest. Then, her hands closed around Soultaker's hilt. Gently, the sword was drawn out of his body as Katana straightened up and kneeled at his side.

"If we can't be together in this life," she murmured as she placed the tip of the blade against her own chest. Some small part of her tried to fight against what she was about to do, but the broken pieces of her soul gave no heed to that and plunged the sword in deep. Katana gave a single gasp of pain, and then the world went dark for her.

Scandal was not usually one to find enjoyment in slaughter, but she could not deny the spark of satisfaction in her soul at the piles of dead loyalists. Fools and idealists who had chosen death as her father's lapdogs rather than life as hers. But even that one spark was swiftly smothered by the crushing darkness of her fury and grief.

"What the status on my father's colleagues?" she asked of her subordinates, trying to keep her temper in check. It was not their fault that father and that brat Klarion escaped their clutches. If anything, it was that arrogant bitch Circe's fault for toying around and then just letting them slink away. Oh how she wished she could wring that hussy's little neck for that. Alas, she carried Azkillon's favor yet, and so those scores would have to be settled another day.

"Luthor survived the assassination attempt and have since bunkered up in Metropolis. Ocean Master remains unaccounted for, though Atlantean cultists that escaped the recent purges report that he's still within Atlantis' borders. However, we have confirmation that both the Brain and Ra's al Ghul is dead,"

"They sure that Ra's is dead? After all, he has a nasty tendency to keep coming back no matter how many times you kill him," Scandal had seen that happen many times by now, one of the few benefits of sharing blood ties with Vandal Savage.

The cultist delivering the reports fidgeted nervously. "I've been told that Katana herself struck him down, so I imagine the Lazarus Pits will do him little good with his soul sealed away,"

She could not fault that logic. Still… "Make sure his body is chopped into as many pieces as possible, burn them all in their own separate pyres, then throw one half of the ashes into the sea and bury the other half in four different graves in completely separate countries," with villains like that, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"As you wish, my lady," the cultist wisely did not question her judgment, merely bowed and departed to carry out her order.

"One last thing," Scandal then spoke up before he had even made it three steps. "You did not mention anything about Queen Bee. Is she still running loose?"

If before he had fidgeted, now he could not even look her in the eyes. "Queen Bee is still alive. However, I've been told by our brethren in Bialya that she's been… taken care of"

Scandal raised a highly unimpressed eyebrow at that. "I believe my instructions on the matter was to kill all members of the Light. And yet they have the gall to not only go against my orders, but also assure me that it's been taken care of,"

"My lady, most of Queen Bee's former guards were all brought into the embrace of Slaanesh, to remove her hold over them. While I cannot say that I find their methods to be a pleasant sight, I can assure you that they can be highly effective. If they say that Queen Bee has been dealt with, then I reckon that nothing short of divine interference will be able to restore her," oh, Scandal had no doubt that he was absolutely right on that account. She had seen Slaaneshi cults at work in person, she knew full well what horrors they were capable of.

"And I do not care. Azkillon put me in charge of dealing with the Light, so my orders come with absolute authority. And my orders are to kill every last member of the Light on the spot. Inform our brothers and sisters in Bialya that I expect them to follow my orders to the letter, or else suffer the consequences," she punctuated that statement by letting her claws slide forth to their full length.

"Understood, my lady. I will make sure that they get the point very thoroughly," then the cultist was gone, and Scandal returned her gaze to the pile of corpses before her. Just in time to watch them get doused in gasoline and then set on fire. Some had argued for trying to fully convert the Light to their side, but Scandal would hear none of it. The Light was her father's life work, his legacy, his dreams for the future. It was what he treasured more than anything else.

And so Scandal would make it her life work to utterly destroy the Light, to burn it all to the ground and then piss on the ashes. As he had stolen what was most precious to her, so too would she steal what was most precious to him. No atrocity would be too vile, no price would be too high. Damn the Earth, damn humanity, damn the whole fucking galaxy for all she cared. To Scandal, only one thing mattered to her now.

"Burn them all," she muttered to herself as the fires reflected in her eyes, dancing alongside the fires of insanity already burning within.

"We are all in agreement then?" Aquaman asked of his gathered generals. Days of endless planning and mobilization had been underway, and finally it felt like they were making headway.

"Indeed, my liege. Though it will still take time to fully mobilize our forces, once we're assembled, we'll sweep these traitors and maniacs aside with the fury of a hurricane!" one general proclaimed, and the rest roared their approval. It filled his heart with joy, to know that they would march as one against these vile degenerates that dared bring harm to his home.

"Excellent, then as agreed, I'll personally lead the army heading for the United States. Turrac, You'll lead our forces in Europe. Vardel You'll take command of Africa. And Setha, you'll help liberate South America," each general named saluted in understanding, and they in turn began assigning out positions to their subordinates. Aquaman meanwhile cast a heavy gaze towards the holographic map dominating the center of the war room. How many had already died while Atlantis lay safe? How many more would die before they were ready to strike? Too many.

His own force would cut straight through what his sources informed him was the worst affected area on the east coast. Unlike many of the other coastal regions, Florida did not boast any particular number of heroes, and the innocents living there had suffered for it as Chaos forces ran rampant. He could only pray that there would be someone left there to save when he arrived. And if not, then he would at least avenge them.

"Then you all have your orders. Atlantis will soon be waging a war we haven't experienced in centuries, so I expect nothing but the very best from all of you. Dismissed," everyone gave a deep bow, then they all began exiting the war room. One of them quickly broke off from the rest and went off on his lonesome while the rest stuck together in smaller groups to discuss further strategies. With the meeting finally over, Aquaman made a beeline straight through the royal palace towards his personal chambers. There, he was greeted by the most beautiful thing in the whole world to him.

"Welcome back. I take it that the meeting is over," queen Mera greeted from her seat.

"Indeed, and not a moment too soon, my love," Aquaman answered as he swam over and embraced his wife, a gesture that was returned but with less enthusiasm.

"Then you'll soon be going to war," she observed with resignation.

"It would not be the first time I go into battle," Aquaman tried to assure her, to which she only shook her head.

"Not on this scale. You'll be leading an army into a global war of madness," gently, he cupped her face and looked deep into her eyes.

"A war that is unavoidable now. If the enemy is not stopped at the surface, then they'll soon come for Atlantis as well," He explained to her. It did little to ease her troubled mind.

"I should be going into battle alongside you, not hiding away like this," she muttered, which brought out a tired sigh from Aquaman.

"You know why that's not possible," he emphasized his point by placing hand on her swollen belly.

"I know, that doesn't make it any less infuriating," she reluctantly admitted.

Aquman merely smiled and placed a light kiss on her forehead. "Worry not. I promise that I'll return home safely, with plenty of new stories to show my son how amazing his father is,"

Mera just huffed at him, but there was no hiding the humor in her eyes. "You had better, or I swear by Poseidon that I'll find a way to drag your sorry excuse of an ass out of hell itself to give it a thorough thrashing,"

"Is that an offer?" he asked while wiggling his eyebrows. It earned him a burst of laughter and a slap to the chest, courtesy of Mera.

"Don't get your hopes up just yet," she teased, though the good mood did not last long as she embraced her husband again and buried her head against his chest.

"Just come back home alive, okay? Atlantis needs its king, and your child needs a father," she murmured while Aquaman stroked her hair.

"I promise, I'll make it back home. In the meanwhile, Orm will guard Atlantis in my stead. He'll keep you safe," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that," then, the soft smile was back on her lips. "But enough about talks of war, let us simply enjoy what time we have left together,"

And Aquman smiled with her now. "As my lady wishes,"

Mia's axe came around in a wide swing that sent a head rolling from its neck. Then she pivoted with practiced ease to bury the axe deep in the chest of another combatant. Someone tried sneaking up on her, but a spinning kick left the attacker stumbling back and wide open for Mia to rush in and sink her teeth into the exposed throat. The coppery taste of blood gushing down her throat envigorated her like nothing else, and she tore the throat wide open to allow the blood to drench her whole face.

But it did nothing to quell the raging fury burning within her soul. If anything, it only fanned the flames further as she roared like a savage beast and went after the last few combatants still standing. Dodging under a decapitation strike, plunging a knife through a neck, breaking a knee before sidestepping an overhead strike, hand striking out like a viper to pluck an eye out of its socket. Eventually, she lost herself fully to the deadly dance of death, everything becoming a messy blur to her addled mind. When the fog of bloodlust finally abated, Mia found herself standing amidst a circle of dismembered corpses, drenched from head to toe in blood and still clutching a shredded heart in her hand. It was was not enough.

"Damn him!" she cursed as she kicked one of the corpses.

"Damn him!" then she grabbed an axe and started hacking one of the more intact corpses to bits.

"DAMN HIM!" then her hands were tearing open another corpse's stomach and ripping out the entrails.

"DAMN THEM ALL!" she screamed to high heaven, thoughts of murder and vengeance pulsating through her furious mind.

"Heh, quite the spectacle there, little girl," a unknown voice compliment with a mocking laugh, and Mia whirled around with thoughts of further bloodshed burning in her gaze. She found a giant in red armor, towering above her with what looked like a pair of engines strapped to his back.

"You're one of Azkillon's ilk. An Astartes," she observed, fingers itching to grab onto a suitably sharp instrument and rip the giant to pieces.

"I'll let that insult go due to your ignorance and the little performance you provided," the giant commented with a wide grin, but there was no mistaking the fury in his own eyes as he stepped forward to tower above her petite frame. "But compare me to that snake ever again, and I'll rip you limb from limb whilst feeding you your own entrails,"

Mia for her part bared her teeth at the threat. "I'd like to see you try,"

Poor choice of words as it turned out, because she then received a backhanded slap to the face. Weak by Astartes standards, it still knocked teeth loose and sent her sprawling to the ground.

"You amuse me, mortal, but don't think that will shield you for such insolence. Compared to us, you're nothing, just another faceless piece of meat to be thrown into the grinder at our leisure. Forget your place ever again at your own peril," he lectured as he brought a hand forward and closing it into a fist right before her eyes, showing how easy her small head would fit into his palm and how easy he could squash it.

"Understood, master," she answered through gritted teeth, refusing to met his gaze. She could not afford to die, not yet at least. Not until Green Arrow was dead as well.

"Good. Now then, as amusing as it was watching you butcher your fellow cultists, I hope you have a reason for wasting their lives here rather than on the field of battle,"

Mia's answer was swift and harsh. "They were weak and cowardly, unworthy of serving in our army. If they had been strong enough, they would have triumphed against me here,"

He nodded his head. "An excellent reason, though I suspect just a convenient excuse for you to spill some more blood,"

"What's it to you?" she spat at him, and that brought a shark-like smile to his lips.

"Like I said, you amuse me, mortal, and I like to see how far things that amuse me will go before they break. Not to mention how much blood they can spill along the way," then he leaned forward until his face hovered just above Mia's. "So, how would you like to get a bit of an upgrade to make you better at killing things?"

Mia was instantly on alert. "What's the catch?"

"A greater need to keep on killing and killing until you die. But honestly, does that sound like a drawback to you?" to be honest, no, it did not sound that bad to Mia. Not anymore, at least.

"And it would make me stronger than I already am?" but she still wanted to be certain that it would be worth her time.

"Assuming you survive the process, then yes," he admitted.

"And how chance of survival is there?" to that, he merely shrugged.

"Never bothered trying it on mortals before, so no clue," well, at least he was honest about it. Not that it mattered to Mia at that point. She needed to become stronger to achieve her goals. She would kill Green Arrow, and damn the consequences.

"Alright then, I'm in,"

"What a pitiful sight this is," Azkillon remarked as he stared at the bodies of Katana and her husband, lying side by side in a pool of their combined blood. At least Katana did a decent job, with the Soultaker carefully slipped between the ribs and skewering her heart. Quick, clean and efficient, just what he had come to expect of her.

"I must admit, I still don't see the wisdom behind this. After all, you could have easily convinced her to wait a little longer before receiving her reward," Adrian argued at his side, but quickly grew silent from but a single glance from his master.

"Katana is no the first to show doubt or has questioned my authority, and an example had to be made. The rest will learn of this and fall in line without further complaint. Besides," a short pause as he telekinetically gripped the sword and yanked it out of her body. "She was one of the most disposable of them all,"

"How so, my lord?" Adrian found himself asking.

"Because I never needed her mind, only her body," as Azkillon said this, he conjured forth a mass of Warp energy, churning within his grasp as reality itself seemed to distort around it. Then, with a casual flick of the wrist, he sent the Warp energy flying straight into Katana. The body gave a slight twitch as the foul energy seeped into her beings, then remained still as an aura of malevolence took shape around then.

Finally, the eyes opened yet again, but there was no sign of Katana within them, only malice and insanity. Slowly, haltingly, as if unaccustomed to its own limbs, the body of Katana rose back up again, the wound on her chest already closed up.

"Well, this is a new sensation," the voice that came out Katana's mouth was anything but human. Guttural and course, with an otherworldly echo to it.

"I've provided you with a physical form to play with, Daemon, but I expect you to heed my command," Azkillon warned as the Daemon began twisting its new bodies in ways that it was never meant to.

"Just point me at those you want dead, and I'll take care of the rest," the Daemon assured him with a smile that stretched far wider than Katana's body was normally capable of.

"For now, just remain here until I call upon you. I'll even provide you with some mortals to pass the time with," if anything, the smile grew even wider at Azkillon's words.

"I find those terms to be acceptable," the Daemon stated, already imagining all the things it would do with this body.

War was a messy and uncertain business. You never knew what would happen next or whose side fortune would smile upon. Krieg was beginning to understand that more than ever as he stared out a window in the police headquarter.

"Still no sign then?" he asked of the one other occuptant of the room.

"Nothing except some small looting parties. We've captured some for interrogation, and they spilled the beans before we even entered the city. It seems like they're gonna let our liberation of Los Angeles go unanswered," Steele answered as he leafed through piles of reports from scouting parties.

"An unexpected development. Chaos followers are naturally attracted to large gatherings of people to slaughter. For them to ignore us like this is most unusual," Krieg observed as he idly watched the groups of people milling about on the streets below.

"I suppose we'll count that as a blessing then. With any luck, they stay away long enough for more forces to arrive and we can dig ourselves in further," Steele commented, relief plain in his tone.

"Perhaps," but Krieg did not feel the same way. In fact, he was incredibly frustrated by the lack of response from the enemy. He had hoped to entice them into a frontal assault on the city, turning it into a grueling siege that he could use to grind their numbers into dust. Instead, he and his army now sat in dug out trenches and makeshift bunkers twiddling their thumbs while the enemy ran rampant across the globe. It irked him to quite the degree.

"Continue fortifying the lines, and have our forces be placed on full alert," Krieg instructed, to Steele's visible confusion.

"You still expect them to attack?" he asked, but Krieg refused to answer out loud as he continued to stare out the window. I want them to attack.

"What of communication?" Krieg quickly deflected away.

"Satellites are still running no trouble, and we still got both TV, telephone and internet. I swear, for a bunch of maniacs bent on world destruction, they're doing a shoddy job severing our lines of communication," whether Steele meant it as a joke or not, Krieg knew not as he answered.

"Because they care not whether we can communicate with each other or not," and that statement all but floored Steele.

"Why on Earth would they think that?"

At that question, Krieg could only shrug. "I do not know. Overconfidence? Incompetence? You can never tell with heretics,"

But even as Steele continued to report about something or other, Krieg's mind had already wandered elsewhere. Sitting around like this doing nothing was grating on him, it felt like a betrayal for every heretic he let live for his inaction. No, this could not be tolerated any further. Either the enemy would come and fight him in Los Angeles, or he would lead his army forward to engage them in open battle. Some would call that latter foolhardy, but Krieg cared not. Suffer not the traitors and heretics.

That was when Krieg spotted someone in the crowd below, and an idea struck him. It was stupid, it was foolhardy, and it went against his very nature. But if this did not get the enemy moving, then Krieg did not know what else would.

"Commissioner," he interrupted Steele's report about recent shipments. "You said we had captured enemy combatants, correct?"

"Uhm, yes. We still don't know what to do with them yet, but-"

"Gather them all up and bring them to me," Krieg simply ordered before storming out of the room and heading straight towards the exit, ignoring Steele's confused shouts from behind him. Storming out onto the parking lot, he ignored everything else around him except his target.

"Miss Grant," said target visible jumped as he appeared before her. Clearly, she had not expected a meeting between them after their last encounter. And judging by the look in her eyes, she had not forgotten how it ended either.

"Krieg, and unexpected pleasure. What can I help you with?" had to give her credit though, her tone of voice gave nothing away about any ill feelings. Not that Krieg would have cared either way.

"Your camera crew, can they broadcast live?" Krieg asked. Kat in turn gave a look of befuddlement but nonetheless nodded her head.

"And how many channels could you broadcast to?" Krieg pushed on, all but marching up into her personal space. An act she most definitively did not appreciate it judging by the way her eyes narrowed into a glare at him.

"With the proper clearance, all of them," she answered. At that moment, Krieg felt the closest thing to satisfaction in a long time.

"Then congratulations, you just got a private interview with me. Meet me back here in five hours, then we can begin,"

General Eiling had always been an ambitious fellow, a career soldier with plans of climbing all the way to the top. However, if recent events truly had been required for his rise to power, he would have preferred to stay as a private. Ambitious did not automatically mean letting his country burn for his own benefit.

"Alright, gentlemen, how far up shit creek are we?" he asked of his gathered war cabinet. Though calling them that did little to hide the fact that at least half of them had never even set foot in a cabinet meeting until today. Too many casualties, too many promotions to fill the ranks.

"We seem to have weathered the initial onslaught, but now we're left with armed forces scattered to all four corners of the wind. Most of the major cities have either fallen or have been turned into Stalingrad 2.0," one of the officers painted quite the grim picture. Not that anyone had been expecting differently.

"And what of our allies?" Eiling had to ask, even though he probably knew the answer already.

"They're in as much trouble as we are. We should not expect help from them, just as they're not expecting help from us," yup, just as he had guessed.

"In short, every man for himself, right?"

"Until we've managed to stabilize the situation within our borders, afraid so," that was when an aide came bursting in, a frantic look in his eyes.

"Sir! Just got word in! There's something you need to see!" he hastily explained before running towards the nearest TV and turning it on. There was naught but static for at least a minute at first, something which tested the generals' patience. Then a live broadcast began.

"This is Cat Grant reporting live from Los Angeles. With me here is the local vigilante and Justice League associate Krieg, who has a message he wishes to share," then the camera panned around until it landed on what Eiling could only describe as a World War 1 German cosplayer with a weird fetish for skulls and eagles.

"By now, you are all aware to the enemy we face. You have no doubt fought against their depraved servants, people you only days ago called friends and neighbors. You have seen the horrors that these heretics are capable of," Krieg began as he slowly paced back and forth.

"And though the damage is great, and the casualties beyond reckoning, we have only faced the vanguard, only suffered a brief taste of the true power that the enemy can bring against us…"

"… I know this must seem impossible for you to comprehend at this stage, given the state of the world," huddled together in the sewers, even as gunshots echoed above them, the survivors crowded around a portable radio as they listened in on the sudden broadcast.

"It must feel like the whole world is collapsing all around you. Like nothing but madness and death exist," dismayed looks were shared among the survivors.

"However…"

"… I come before you know to tell you this simple truth: there is nothing to fear," far out at sea, crewmen aboard a carrier listened with rapt attention as this strangely garbed hero continued his speech.

"The enemy may appear strong, they may appear invincible. But the truth is…"

"… They are weak,"

"What the hell is he doing?" five words, and Kid Flash summed up the whole team's thoughts on the matter as they sought shelter inside the remnants of a diner. But one of them understood what their erstwhile comrade was up to.

"Issuing a challenge and rallying cry," Aqualad informed them, eyes never leaving the cracked screen.

"They prey upon the weak and cowardly, luring them in with empty promises and then spends them like cheap ammunition. Those who have fallen to their sweet lies are nothing more than spineless wretches, the dregs of society that skulked in the shadows like rats, and now fueled by falsehoods of power and immortality. I ask you then…"

"Are they foes worthy of fear? No. All they deserve is our scorn and hatred," at a police station, bloodied and beaten officers watched with rapt attention as Krieg viciously tore into their enemy. At the back, someone even whistled.

"Gotta give it to him, he sure has a way with words," she commented, but was promptly shushed by her comrades who wanted to hear what was said.

"And that is also why we will triumph. Because all they know is fear, all they know is weakness. They dare not strike at us in the open, so they turn our closest against us and makes them do the deed in their stead. They hope to sow chaos and discord among us, robbing us of our true strength, but I tell you now…"

"… that they will never succeed. We will survive the coming storm, we will endure whatever blow they deal against us, and we will never break. Why? Because we are humans, and when humans stand together, nothing can bring us down," in the ruins of a great city, battered defenders listened to his words and took heart, arming themselves in preparation for the next wave of attackers.

"The defining moment of humanity is upon us now, the time that will shape the course of our history for centuries to come. Destiny calls, and it shall not find us wanting. And that is why I now call out to every man, woman and child that still draws breath…"

"… take up arms against the enemy. Resist him at every turn. Fight him on every field, every road, every building, and every room. Show no quarter, for none shall be given to you. Stand with those still loyal to humanity's future, and cast out those of have forsaken their very souls," a convoy of cultist marched down a bombed out street, confident of victory. But above them, resistance fighters hid with pistols, hunting rifles and Molotov cocktails, waiting for the enemy to get into position.

"And to those who are able, I ask that you join me in Los Angeles. We have broken the enemy here, driven them out like the filthy cockroaches that they are. We now stand as a bastion against the hordes of hell…"

"… and we ask all that are willing to come join us in its defense. Together, we will make the enemy break like water splashing against a rock, and then drive them back into the pits from which they crawled out of," out in isolated towns and villages, people were already packing weapons and bare essentials into trucks and setting off in large motorized convoys towards the nearest warzone.

"And to those traitors who have turned their backs on humanity, I have a final message for you as well…"

"… I am sure that you are celebrating even as I speak, confident in your imminent victory. Allow me then to dispel these foolish notions of yours," Amanda Waller raised an eyebrow as Krieg moved to the side, revealing a row of six enemy combatants on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs, all bearing the mark of Chaos on them.

"I name every last one of you as traitors, heretics and cowards. I spit upon your very existence and deny your right as human beings…"

"…. You are vermin, every last one of you, and I shall dispense justice upon you as such," Luthor could not help but smile as Krieg grabbed a pistol from one of the guards, his intent clear to everyone.

"This just got very interesting. Wouldn't you say?" he asked, even though he was currently alone in his office. He knew full well that his reluctant ally was seeing and hearing everything even when not present in the building.

"You have lived for too long shielded by the blanket of the Justice League's mercy. But that ends today…"

"There will be no surrender," BANG, and there went the first execution, a single bullet to the back of the head. The rest desperately fought back, but their guards held them in place.

"Quite the spectacle," Sensei remarked. At his side, Talia could only nod.

"Indeed," she agreed as Krieg moved to his next victim.

"There will be no quarter," BANG.

Crouched atop a gargoyle, Batman watched the live execution with a stone-cold visage, refusing to give even the slightest hint of his inner thoughts.

"Sir?" the voice of a concerned Alfred Pennyworth came through the comm.

"I've got work to do," Batman dismissed as he leaped from his spot and went on the hunt for heretics again.

"There will be no forgiveness," BANG.

In the bombed out ruins of his former home, a young boy watched the scene and felt vindictive joy as the lunatics were put down like the dogs they were. They would never again hurt anyone now, and that made him feel happy. It gave him hope.

"Jason! Come on, we need to go!" his mother suddenly called to him, and it was with great reluctance that he abandoned the barely function TV as they fled their home before more cultists showed up.

"There will be no remorse," BANG.

Though he was in the same city, Deathstroke was not close enough to watch the performance in person. But it was quite easy to find a working television and watch the event with a smile on his face.

"Atta boy,"

"There will be no respite," BANG.

Miss Martian could not even bear to look anymore, and everyone else looked caught between horrified and furious.

"Pack your things, we're heading to Los Angeles," Aqualad declared. No one objected.

"And there will be no mercy," BANG, and there went the last cultist. People gathered around the television cheered, while in the back, Black Canary looked on in sadness.

"Know this, heretics, that what you just saw is the fate of you all. Even if it takes a lifetime, even if I have to do it on my own, I will hunt you all down and kill you like the vermin you are. And if you wish to challenge my claims, then hear this…"

"… I am here, I am still standing. Come and get me if you dare," then the broadcast ended, and the screen returned to static again. That did not stop Markoth from glaring at it with absolute hatred in his eyes, his taloned fist flexing and clenching with dreams of slicing through that insolent brat's flesh.

"Azkillon," he called, and the sorcerer quickly appeared at his side in a deep bow.

"Your orders, master?" he inquired, though he already knew what the answer would be.

"Assemble your little coterie of pets and sycophants, gather up as many of the cultists as you can, and tell them to raze Los Angeles to the ground," Markoth growled out before his gaze went to the great window overlooking a ravaged Earth. "If that upstart wants a war, then I'll give him one,"