OOC: Don't worry New York guys. I'm not forgetting you. Sizeable update coming later tonight for you all.
Lancheng, China
Raisa, X12, Kevin
The man regards Kevin with his blazing eyes. A small chuckle escapes him. "I make an honest offer, am willing to give you a place among people who would support and befriend you, would remove a personal nemesis from the table on your behalf and curb your double's urge to end your existance, and you'd rather return to what is certainly going to be unpleasant? Very well," he says with disappointment.
The shadows deepen a moment, then four more men step forth. In less than the time it takes to draw a breath, they surround and grab hold of Kevin, dragging him back across the floor. They speak in whispery voices over and over, "Fool. You should have joined us. What wonders and power you gave up. What acceptance and freedom. Fool."
X12 is shoved roughly back by the men of shadow surrounding Raisa, and into the grasp of four others and held fast. "Welcome back, Directive 12. You will be of great use. You will never be free of our service," they whisper at him repeatedly. Dara is left cowering against the wall.
Again his arm elongates into a razor sharp blade of shadows. He places the tip at Michael's chest. "Are you ready?" he asks?
"Do i...aaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHH!" Michael says, ending in a scream as the sword is plunged through him. Surprisingly, little blood emerges as the sword tip bursts from his back. The shadowy netting holds him securely in place. The man's other hand extends as well, forming another sword which he casually plunges through Michael's chest next to the first, eliciting another pained wail from the wolf-boy. In the background, the hearth blazes to life, a stream of flame jetting towards Michael as the man rips one sword upward and the other downward. You only catch the start of the motion as the flame fills the room with brightness, so bright you lose your vision for a moment. You fell yourselves suddenly free of the grips holding you and as you blink the spots from your eyes, you find the shadowed men gone.
And before you, getting to his clawed feet to stand fifteen feet in height, is Jackal. On the floor to his left lays a young man you recognize as Michael, coughing weakly.
"I... AM... FREE!" the Jackal roars.
"Indeed, you are," the shadow cloaked man says from only a few feet away. "And I freed you."
"I suppose you think I will obey you now!" the Jackal booms with a feral snarl.
"No, actually. You're free to go." The shadows vanish from one of the walls and a door becomes apparent.
"You ... will just let me leave?" the Jackal says with doubt.
"Of course."
The Jackal takes a huge step towards the door, then looks over at Michael. "I'm taking him," he growls, wrapping one massive paw around the boy, claws digging in, drawing a groan from Michael.
"Fine. He means nothing to me."
Glancing over to you. "Can I kill them?"
"That's not very sporting," the man says with a chuckle. "How about a hunt on your way to your goal? But let's not give them too sporting a chance," he adds, blasting Jackal with shadowy energy. Eight shadowy, eight foot tall werewolves emergy from the black bubble of energy looking up at Jackal with devotion. "I will place them beyond the doorway for you. Once you pass through, the hunt begins."
Jackal lets out a satisfied cackle and heads for the door.
"When you reach your destination, contact me," the man says. Jackal's eyes glow with flame briefly and he laughs.
"I shall at that."
The beast, bearing Michael and accompanied by his shadow-selves, strides from the door which closes with a booming ring.
"Well, it seems our time is at an end," he says, striding over to your group. "I suppose I won't be able to watch the fullfillment of your promising life, Directive 12, which is disappointing, but unavoidable. You are not needed for my future plans, just a pleasant diversion. And you, Mr. York, shall be missed. Your abilities would have made you among the most powerful mutants in the world. My offer was genuine. Remember that as you die. You, Miss da Cruz, shall feel better soon, not that your strength will save you. When you are faced with choosing between the death of that snivelling whelp or your own, remember this; you'll both die anyway."
He floats up to the ceiling and melds with the shadow there until all you see are his flaming eyes. Then the hearth goes out, and the room descends into total blackness. You experience a brief instant where you feel like the floor has been removed from under you, then you slam into a tile floor.
The room is brightly lit and there are four katana's laying on the floor, one near each of you. Raisa is normal size again and Dara is still crying. Looking around, you see you are in a men's washroom. The decorations indicate it is probably in a warehouse. There is a single door to your left. From some distance, you hear a howl.
