Red Brass Cannon/Stories

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With every step, Brooke felt a rising vigor, going through the streets, every nook filled with young heroes, new rising stars of Atlas and Paragon trying to make their claim to fame. She wasn't going to make such an attempt, knowing full well she didn't have the gear or skill for that. She couldn't shoot lasers from her eyes, fly, or crush suns in the palm of her hand. What she could do, was shoot hot water.

Also she had a big, and fairly heavy generator hooked up to her back.

Metal jaw clenching and her fake teeth grinding as she fiddled with her right arm, making sure the configurations were right, just as the nice man from the foundation had told her. Not too much pressure, didn't want a pipe to burst. Not too little, didn't want to spray herself. Just enough to get the desired results.

“Raw to cooked in seven seconds flat.”

She muttered to herself, repeating what she was told. a gust of air passing by and around her, just a brief glimpse of something moving in it. Another hero, or rather, an actual hero. She may have the paper work, but she was no more a hero than the next girl.

“Hey, Security Level 3... er... crap...”

She turned and looked up at a nice looking man, very handsome, square cut jaw, and muscles that looked like their were made by diamond edge tools. The shirtless and bulking gent had a mama's boy haircut, and goofy grin. There was no way he was that old at all, he was probably just some kid who wanted to be a hero.

Just like her.

“Tanker?”

She asked, smiling at him, her teeth reflecting light off the gunmetal, as her black mask absorbed so much of the summer heat.

“Yeah! That, course. Want to go bust some thugs?”

He was grinning wide, his dark toned skin almost rippled with strength as the grin spread. She could feel an urge to poke the muscles, just to get a feel, if only she had feeling in her hands. Instead, only cold metal remained. Cold, until she cranked up the heat, that is.

“Sure! I'm Security Level 1. Blaster gal myself. Could use a cute meat shield to help me out!”

She giggled as his face drooped a little as a blush overtook him. As gentle as her unfeeling limbs could, she tugged at him a bit, “I'm the leader, though, okay?” It was her turn to grin, as she started to tow the now mumbling giant lad behind her off towards the seedier part of Atlas Park.

For just this once, she was going to have a sidekick, and she was going to savor the moment.

Passing their way towards the alleys, they crossed a group of rather sickly looking heroes, spandex and leather dripping with sludge and reeking of sick. Sewer goers, she could tell, and from the looks of it, not a single drop of fecal matter was able to lower their pride. She offered them a wave and a couple thumbs up, releasing her partner to do so. They returned the gestures with a peace sign, and a group stance that was probably practiced between them, as they bragged about how many zombies they bagged down there.

“You guys should have totally seen it! We were busting heads across the sewers like NOBODY'S business, you know?” said the smallest, and youngest looking of the group, with a voice far deeper than seemed possible to inhabit such a body. Atop her head was a dripping witch hat, and her eyes glowed an eerie red.

“No, we busted heads, you just stood back and laughed at us whenever we fell down...” piped in a rather small voice from what she could swear was the team's tanker, by how much armor he was wearing.

“But I got you all back up, didn't I?”

Brooke chuckled as her partner spoke up, “I almost went down there, but I don't have the stomach. Mom says I'd have to clean all my clothes myself if I did go...”

The final member of the group, another more voluptuous girl sighed dramatically, “Such a shame, handsome, I would have loved to have you in there with us...”

“Oi, he's /my/ sidekick now, hands off.” Brooke stuck her tongue out and wrapped an arm around the now overtly blushing tanker, only for most everyone, tanker excluded, to have a laugh at it all. Pleasantries passed, and the two groups moved on, Brooke in front, tanker in tow.

They chatted the entire way across the city sector, never once bringing up their own names, let alone their 'hero' names. Passing piles of rubble and junk, Brooke finally realized her error, “So, what's your name, hotstuff?” she asked, turning about to walk backwards, looking at him. What she saw made her feet stop in place. Right behind him, clueless to it, was a group of Hellions, walking up silently, guns at the ready. “Well, I'-” he started, but she spoke up, “BEHIND YOU!”

Just like that, he was struck across the head, and hit the ground, hard.

“I fucking love new capes.” “They don't have capes though, boss.” “Shut your WHORE MOUTH, we've got one more to nab.”

She didn't know which one said what, as tears filled her eyes. She couldn't see another hero around, and she knew that she couldn't handle these guys if her tank couldn't.

“This will be fun, wonder if she's metal between her legs too...”

Her backpack suddenly stopped shooting steam, as she glared up at the Hellion male, hand inches from her throat. “Get away from me, you bastard!”

She swung her right arm up, the heat rising within it, as a large pulse of steam shot straight into the face of the first thug, knocking him up and back away from her. Landing roughly on the ground, he quickly slipped out his pistol and fired a round at Brooke, straight for her heart chamber.

The bullet missed the chamber, but slide through her chest, as she stumbled backwards, the companions of the hellion she clocked stepping closer to her.

Filling with hormones and respite, she began firing another burst of steam out in front of her, waving her arm about spreading the blast, trying to keep the thugs back. One screamed out as the steam burned up the flesh of his arm, but the other didn't seem phased. Hellions do deal with fire a lot, he was likely not that bothered with burns anymore. At least, not bothered enough to stop at first blisters.

He raised his bat, and began to swing it down at her, only to drop it as a sharp pain split through his right arm and shoulder, a concentrated packet of caltrops all embedded themselves into his flesh. The first hellion began to pull himself back up, while the crying one wiped tears from his eyes, his flesh beginning to dribble off his limb.

“Fucking bitch!” screamed the final hellion, as he began to pull the sharp shards out of his arm with gusto.

Frantically, Brooke scampered across the ground, fleeing the scene, turning back to see that her tank friend had been ported to the hospital, and should soon be back. She only had to hold off till then, or run. Very fast.

With a large discharge, the spreading metal of a shotgun scattered down the alley behind Brooke as she gained her footing, running back and forth away from them in what now seemed like a maze of buildings. Every time she turned a corner, she saw at least one of them. They were working together, and she knew she was going to be cornered soon.

Around one last corner, she stopped running and turned quickly, releasing a steam ball, filled and ready to burst with a hellfire of pain, typically from the air, as she was told, but that wasn't her plan here. Catching the Hellion, the one with who couldn't stand the burn, off guard, the container blew in his face, releasing a steady stream of super heated water all over him. His screams and cries filled the alley as his body finally slumped, his hair, his skin, almost all of it gone, just blisters and burns remaining.

“She got Paul!”

It was the one she got the caltrops into, and he was soon upon her, favoring his shotgun to his bat. Firing off another shot, at nearly point blank range, Brooke thought she was going to be done for.

That was, until not a single shot hit her.

Turning from the ground, she looked up, and saw her sidekick. Her hero.

“Sorry I'm late, it's quite a run back here.” He smiled widely as the newly found terror of the second hellion began to creep out, only to be swiftly silenced by a rather crushing blow to the ribcage, that knocked him up, and over a building.

Brooke blinked, and asked a very reasonable question. “A bat, and you're down. A shotgun, and you're fine?”

He just shrugged, “I didn't get to pick my powers, you know. A good clean blow knocks me down. Guns don't seem to bother me that much by comparison.”

Brooke sighed with relief, as her partner turned back towards her, “Wasn't there a third one of those guys?”

“There was.”

Just like that, her partner was down again, head bleeding profusely, as the third, and final hellion stood over him, bat held resting upon his shoulder. “Thanks for the tip, man. I'll keep it in mind next I see you.”

Dropping down as the tank again used his mediporter, the hellion walked slowly over to Brooke, grinning madly, “Now... let's get you out of here before he comes back, shall we?” He stepped closer, and Brooke did the only thing she could think of to do.

She kicked him where the sun don't shine, and only he was willing to touch.

Grunting as he fell down to his knees he quivered as he began to stand back up, slowly, “And here I was thinking I might let you enjoy it...” He looked up from the ground to look straight down the exhaust pipe of Brooke's arm.

Steam began pouring out, blitzing about his face and body, consuming him whole as his body began to give way to the pain, and he receded to the ground, writhing in agony as the steam kept coming, and coming, blistering away his flesh and muscle... until there was nothing left it could burn, and a wet, shriveled body remained.

Brooke finally stopped the pressure to her arm, as her backpack again resumed its normal cycle.

“Raw to cooked... seven seconds flat.”

With a blistering noise of steam encompassing a Council soldier's body, and the thud of him falling over following soon after, Brooke, the Red Brass Cannon thought she was finally finished with this large warehouse. There wasn't anyone else to be seen, and all she had to do now was find that darn P.L.O.T. Device, wherever they hid it.

She began to rummage through various containers, moving back and forth between stacks of boxes, crates, and various other containers along shelves and shelves of storage. This place was huge, how was she going to find anything in here, let alone something as small as the P.L.O.T. Device was supposed to be.

She lifted up a soldier and pushed him aside as he lay atop a box, writhing still. Noticing his movements, she planted her right arm into his skull and let loose a large burst of steam, burning out his eyes, as she examined the container he was atop. Nothing was in it.

“Where the hell is that damn thing...”

Behind her, she heard something move. Something large.

She turned about and quickly scanned the area behind her. There was naught to be seen, which only triggered a large red flag in her mind. Something was wrong, and the odd looming shadow that she saw about her wasn't helping either.

Rolling out of the way, she heard a crash behind her, as chunks of the ground splintered from their foundation and rose up into the air, clouds of dust filling the room as gravel flung about the floor. She couldn't see through it enough to tell what that was, but she saw enough to be scared. The thing was huge.

A blood curdling roar let loose from the being in the dust as a rolling slab began to level itself back towards the ground, upside down, but still. As it slipped down to the ground, she saw the silhouette move towards it, fast. Releasing a burst of steam beneath her, she launched herself into the air, just as the chunk of floor crashed and tore up the ground beneath her. Dust remained thick in the air, amidst debris. She couldn't see anything but vague shapes through it all.

Her steam cutting off so she could land, she let loose one single blast to redirect her to the side of the impact that happened in her stead, landing in time with a blow the now motionless hunk of concrete, cracking it like fissures, visibly grinding it into near nothing, as stone shards flung themselves at her. Blocking most of them with her left arm, she pointed her right at the direction, shooting out a burst of steam through the clouds.

She didn't hear a scream in response. She heard the sound of steam hitting a surface right in front of her, and flowing around it before dissipating. Whatever it was, was using the slab as a shield against her attacks. Not good.

Just as the slab defended, she saw it pull back as her burst of steam lightened, to be swung at her. Knowing nothing better to do to dodge, she simply fell backwards as she watched the inhumanly large object swing right over her face, before redirecting to crash down upon her. It was all she could do to roll to the side and scurry away as the impact left a crater in the warehouse floor.

The shock-wave flipped her through the air and she caught herself on a shelf top, with enough momentum to knock it backwards. The large metal pieces began to slip back as she pushed herself off them to the shelves behind the one she landed on originally, quickly climbing up the frame as it too began to fall, a domino effect.

She jumped from it as it fell into the next shelf, as the first discernible part of her attacker came into view. A claw. A large furry claw. Suddenly she knew exactly what she was up against. A War-Wolf, and by the looks of it, a might bit powerful one at that. Angry too.

Crashing into the ground, going down to a knee as she skid across the floor, before toppling and rolling backwards, catching herself with her right hand, planting a foot firmly in the ground and watching as the creature jumped from shelf to shelf as they fell one after another, before arriving at the last one, and tearing off the top most shelf, a large metal sheet, throwing it at her.

With moments to spare, she let loose a shot of steam into the ground, flipping her body up and over the sheet as it flew below her, inches from her hand, seemingly holding her aloft in the small moment of time that passed before it lodged itself into the ground behind her, her feet rotating into place, and landing on the ground.

Instantly, she shook her hand, dislodging a steam ball, lobbing it into the air as she dove behind some crates, the impending spray of hellish water enough cause for concern. At least, for her it was. Knowing such an attack would not be near enough to do anything but anger the creature, she dropped into her hand another ball, one of caltrops, readying to throw it.

On cue, as the steam shot out, the beast howled into the vast building in pain, letting her know for one moment where it was standing before it moved again. Acting fast, despite the danger of the steam, Brooke slipped up over the crate, jumping into the air fist held back caltrops ready to launch, throwing the ball of metal spikes into the chest of the monster, steam nearly burning her own flesh at every instant.

What happened next made her heart sink. The creature deflected her caltrops with a steel drum, batting them, and her, away, flinging her into the wall, the caltrops littering the floor about her. Blood began to dribble down along the back of her head, and she felt lightness in her flesh. It wasn't unlikely she had a concussion from the blow, but she had to get back into the fight. Filling with respite, she pulled herself up and readied another bolt of steam for the now charging creature, the orb in the air having fallen empty now.

Knowing the pain to befall her, she blasted full force steam into the face of the beast as it ran up to her, throwing a punch into her metallic jaw, splitting a tooth, a metal tooth, in half as some of her upper teeth found their way into her gums, blood spurted from her mouth as she climbed the wall from the force of the blow.

Nearing the ceiling, and her speed dropping as gravity took over, she gripped a windowsill from behind and scampered onto the ledge aside the glass, several stories above the ground. The creature looked up in anger at her, which only increased when it felt a mixture of saliva, blood, and chipped teeth splatter against its fur, as Brooke spat on it.

It began to climb up the wall, hastily making its way to Brooke, swiping at the supports of the building in frustration at not having yet reached her. Each swipe bought Brooke pressure seconds, enough time to think of a plan. Releasing a web grenade into her hand, ready for it to burst, she slipped off the ledge, behind the werewolf, exploding the grenade in her hand as she slid it along its back fur, tugging them both down with the weight of her life support system. Propelling her hand faster than the rest of her, with the use of steam, she slammed the creature into the ground below her, the sound of breaking ribs and splintering bones filled her ears, as another wave of dust shot into the air.

Wasting no time, she locked her exhaust on the head of the creature and began pumping out steam at point blank range into the back of its skull, counting to seven as the fur burnt off and the skin blistered with heat. Singeing hairs began to spread to where her webbing was, and it loosened, enough for it to flail her off itself, in pain as much as in anger.

Sliding along the ground as she's flung, her feet planted firmly into the shifting and disorganized flooring as she jumped backwards using the momentum of the wolf's throw to keep her going a good distance from the beast.

The blow to her head was starting to catch up with Brooke, and as she slid to a stop, she felt her mind slip for only a second, enough time for the War-Wolf to be upon her again. Spinning to the side, as a furry claw swiped downward at her, she dropped another steam ball to the ground, kicking it into the monster, directing all the steam into its side as she ran away from it, its howls filling the room again as she took shelter behind still standing shelves and support beams.

Brooke heard glass shattering and saw a large shard fall to the ground aside a wall not too far from her, from what looked like her steam ball had been thrown away. This was good. It meant it held it, and now it had hurt itself for her. Quickly she took out a bandage, hiding still in silence as she treated her head wound best she could, swallowing the blood pooling in her mouth still. Tightening the bandage about her head caused her a bit of pain, and she coughed the blood about her teeth up.

In silent horror, she knew it had heard. And it had. Almost immediately after her cough, a muscular fist, seared of fur, flung itself into the support beam aside her, bending it inward as a section of the roof began to cave as its structure was damaged, swept out from under it, rather violently. Swinging around the crumbling beam, she let loose another burst of steam at point blank range into the eyes of the werebeast, taking small steps backwards as it flailed its arms around, nearly slicing its claws into her with a swipe.

The near miss was enough to distract Brooke as she released the spray in the moment, which was all the creature needed to regain its upper hand, knocking Brooke in the ribs hard, sending her flying to the left, through boxes and boxes of nearly nothing. Almost nothing. One did however have something she was looking for. The P.L.O.T. Device. She just didn't know it yet.

Before she could even turn herself to stand again, she felt a clawed foot connect with her stomach, launching her up to the collapsing roof, and through it. Limp, she fell back against the roof, as another portion fell to the empty rooms below. The lycanthrope burst through the hole, making it larger in the process as it planted feet on either side of Brooke, clutching in its blistered hand the very thing she was sent here to find. It had retrieved it before she could claim it.

The beast snarled at her, and raised a foot up, to crush in her chest, doing horrible damage to the young hero. Instead, she used what little strength she had left to slide herself away from the crushing blow with a final burst of steam. Girl now gone from the stomp, the only thing beneath the monster was more of the roof, several floors above the bottom. The roof snapped and gave way beneath it, as it fell to the floor below.

Brooke slowly, and weakly pulled herself up and walked over to the ledge, and saw that while the fall did considerable damage to the beast, it was yet able to move. She knew she had to stop it, and get the P.L.O.T. Device away from it, but couldn't manage in her current state. She didn't have a chance, and as her fuel was running low, even if she could do something, she couldn't do it for very long.

With every moment wasted on thought, the creature grew closer to standing anew, and so she stopped thinking, and worked on impulse, shutting off power to her left arm, and dropping down atop the creature, grabbing onto its head with her right arm. Her body snapped against the form of the creature after her fall, but she had enough strength left to still function, at least enough. So she hoped.

Using the reserves from her emergency back up, she began to unleash a torrent of hell again into the face of the Council monster blistering away its head and facial features as it tried in vain to get her off it. It was too weak to move her weight off him, and she was too weak to do anything other than burn a hole right into its brain. Which was exactly what she did, as steam poured through the eye sockets of the creature, for moments, seconds, before a half a minute had passed, and she decided she had done enough cooking. That she was done.

Weakly, she rolled off the now lifeless corpse, and slid to the ground, landing on her still working right arm. With great effort, she pushed herself up and began to crawl towards the hand that held the P.L.O.T. Device, and grabbed it, pulling it into her being, holding it tightly against her bloody and battered form, her bones grinding and crackling like stones crushed against each other. Blood drained from her body as she began to feel too weak to do anything anymore.

Her mission complete, her body too weak to continue, the mediporter took her to be healed back as much as they could manage, and the device to be secured.

It was a hard battle, but she had successfully cleared a small army of Council troops from Talos by herself.

She needed a reward.

Later that day, upon meeting with the Ex-Nemesis engineer again, she got it.

The rash upon Brooke's arm was beginning to spread, the blue hue beginning to go into her shoulder, and all the way to her cybernetics. The skin was rough, tough, and felt like sand paper, and itched a good deal, not where the rash had already flaked away all her skin, but where the rash was just spreading to, and her normal flesh remained.

She had had this rash for a while now, it's been slowly spreading since her first day in the Etoile Islands. Having not yet seen a doctor, she didn't know what to do, samples of her flesh have been offered away to her friend, Miss The, and a scan was done by Miss Diz, who insisted it was a demonic transformation. She didn't know if that was really what it was. Miss Diz has a tendency to think anything bad is demonic.

Brooke walked through Port Oakes, scratching at the flesh, large flakes coming off between her metallic fingers, when suddenly she was stopped by a voice. “Isn't that that Red Ass Cannon, boys?” She sighed and turned around, seeing a large gathering of Family members cracking knuckles and stroking their guns.

“Think it is, boss. Want I to ice this bitch?”

Her steam pack began to halt shooting steam as they began taking steps towards her. However, she couldn't concentrate, the itch in her arm began to drive her a bit mad, and instinctively, against her better knowledge, she took her fiery hot arm, and scratched at the rash again, blistering some of her own skin as she tore it away, revealing more of the strange new flesh, the burn not even phasing it.

Pain seared through her veins, and she fell down to a knee, almost kneeling before the Family thugs, as they began to laugh, “Boys, I think we got a new play thing! Rough her up nice and sweet.” A first hand fell upon her blue flesh, and everything went blank within her mind, as a smoothing blue glow encompassed her form, flesh tearing away, along with her own clothes as the rash spread quick over her entire form, her head morphed and began to crook itself, as her eyes hollowed and became dark.

“Uh.... boss?”

She turned up at the now terrified looking thug, hand still on her. He moved to let her go, but it was too late, she swung her hand around and caught the arm, in her blistering heat, shooting no steam, just singing the clothes, and blistering the flesh with her touch. She gripped the arm in her unfeeling cybernetics, and crushed it between her fingers, a cracking emanating from the limb as a cry of pain filled the air, random passers by began to flee in abject horror.

Guns began to fire as Brooke spun the mook about into the oncoming bullet storm, just enough for the slugs to pass through his flesh, but not enough for any vitals to be hit. He would have been able to live, if Brooke were to be done. Instead she grabbed his other arm, and planted a foot in the man's spine, and began pushing him away as she held onto his arms, a loud snap rang out as the bone gave way, and his spine split, his cries gone as the pain sent him unconscious.

As his body fell limp, the shocked stares of the rest of the gathered mob filled with anger, as they again readied their guns to avenge their fallen comrade, just as a swift stomp, broke his face in and blistered his skull, blood pooling about him, as he gurgled the red fluids deep into his lungs.

“Kill the bitch!”

Using a burst of steam, Brooke launched herself to the side of the incoming bullets quickly gripping the side of the building she flew into, tossing herself into the air, dislodging a smoke screen grenade, dropping it into the middle of the gathering, as bullets whirred through the gas. Landing on a window ledge, aiming another capsule, this one full of caltrops, at the visible hat of one of the Family goons.

The gleam of her beating heart caught his eye, as he turned to be met with shrapnel slicing his face and shoulder to shreds. The thug clutched at the torn flesh and suit, with a hand to steady the arm, as the same limb raised up and shot a heavy slug into Brooke's chest, hitting the clear shell of the containment chamber, cracking it.

A loud cry filled the street, as Arachnos soldiers began to take notice of the brawl, and came to watch, for their own amusement. Wagers were made between them as Brooke launched herself from the ledge onto the same man that shot her, and begun tearing him apart with her bear hands and teeth. Spray of metal found its way to her back as the smoke cleared, every shot illiciting another cry of pain. While no shot broke skin, her flesh, once blue, began to darken and purple, like bruises.

Raising her right hand, she let loose a plume of steam into the faces of all her assailants, her left hand thrust hard into the nearly slain man's chest, burning its way through his undershirt to his chest, blistering it as the skin bubbled and festered from the heat, splitting and burning away as bones began to cave under her force. Releasing the pressure, she lifted her left hand up, before pounding it with great strength into the exposed ribs of the Family clown, busting the ribs inwards into his lungs, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

A flick of the wrist, and she shot a powerful burst of steam from her right into the blistered, bloodied, and beaten face of the man beneath her, and shot herself into the air, the same pressure wiping away what was left of his face, only a dripping with fluid flesh skull remained.

Beneath her, she saw more minions of the Family rush into the fray, readying themselves to fight her, unloading bullets in a hell fire at her aerial form. Dislodging itself from her back, her life support system flew further away from her, and began to jut out portions of metal, making a simple shell, that soon began to fill out, forming what appeared a cross between a War Hulk and a Nemesis automaton, landing in sync, the two beings, automaton and Brooke heaved a heavy breath, as if the machine had a life of its own.

Brooke's heart's clock began ticking. In ten minutes, she would need the pack again. Less, if in combat, and she was, in fact, fighting. Dislodging her lower jaw, the metal dropping a bit further than humanly possible, her stomach began to heave, as a large spray began to form within her, droplets of water began dripping down around her metallic lips. Her now outer Coralax, was going to have some fun.

Bile and fluid shot themselves out at fast speeds, covering the gangsters as her automaton's arms each began to open up into twin minigun barrels, unloading a metal blitz over Brooke, and into the gathering. Melting, choking, and torn with holes, the goons began to flail and fall, as their backup watched in utter terror.

Not a moment passed after the bile stopped flowing, that the leviathan enhanced Coralax raced through her own sick towards the remaining Family members, tackling the nearest one as her teeth found their way into his jugular, tearing it out with a gleeful grin, her blistering hot hands on either side of his head as steam began to flow out of them around either ear.

The automaton charged forth aside its mistress, shoulder checking into a goon, before stomping his pelvis flat with a bulky lumbering foot, turning towards another foe and blasting him away with enough steam to slide itself across the ground, scraping the man like gum on the floor.

At this point, the Arachnos soldiers thought it had gone on long enough, and that it was time to stop the fight. Dropping down from the bridge from which they watched the fiasco, the began unleashing lighting from Mu Strikers, psychic assaults from the Fortunatas, and heavy strikes from the Crab Soldiers. Blasts of energy, lightning, and psychic horror flew and dislodged the Family thugs from the fight, as they fell to the impugning psychosis.

The Coralax, and her minion, were less effected by the first strike, turning their attention to the tougher foes, ones with armor, and less exposed flesh. A challenge, a test, not a problem for Brooke. She still had plenty of time left. Leaping off the fallen corpse, she flung herself between two of the legs of a crab spider, grabbing either one, trying to bring him down beneath her as she did the War Wolf before. No such luck.

As the soldier attempted to fling her off him, she planted her feet in his back, her metal toes hooking in his armor, as she took a step backwards, over his helm, kicking his armored face, knocking him off balance. Stumbling, another soldier shot a burst from his rifle, knocking Brooke off the Crab, and into the sleek arms of a Widow. A blade came out and she quickly slit Brooke's throat, tossing her to the ground, as the automaton crashed into the Widow, smashing her helmet and skull within into a red mist of dust and armor.

Standing back up, the slit throat of the Coralax bled nothing, as the cut closed itself up, her eyes hollowly glare at the Wolf Spider that had shot her. Behind her, a burst of red lightning struck the automaton, seemingly about to arc too her. With great dexterity, she leaped away as the arc began to form, and with her gone, it attempt to strike the other nearest entity with metal, the Crab Spider, locking him in a cage of static energy.

Now inches from the slightly staggered Wolf Spider, she swung her heavy metal limb about and clocked him once across the side of her helmet, leaving some burns across his jaw, and cracking the armor. The automaton struggled against the electric onslaught of the Mu Strike, as the Crab Spider began to pummel it with its various limbs. The Fortunata attempted her psychic prowess against the Coralax, only for it to be be fought off through means unknown even to her. Whatever they were, she ignored the attack, and continued her blows against the Wolf Spider helm, mercilessly ripping the armor apart till his frightened face was revealed to the brittle sea air.

The Fortunata screamed, and dove onto Brooke, trying to pry her off the Wolf Spider, only to be tossed aside like a used tissue, the strength of the leviathan flowing through her body as she began to eat the man's face right off his skull, ripping it apart, and swallowing it, only to spit it out, vomiting it into the mans jaw. When he refused to let it open for her, she broke it until he had to choice but to choke to death on his own regurgitated face.

Obviously afraid, the Crab Spider began a 'tactical withdrawal' as he called it, and the Mu Striker and Fortunata followed suit. Plenty of time to spare, Brooke wasn't going to let them get away. Now free of his bonds, the powered automaton latched its large hands around the once prevalent threat of the Mu mystic, and slammed him into the ground, steam pouring out where his helmet once was, as blisters encompassed the back of his skull.

The Crab Spider launched Web Grenades at random trying to halt the racing Coralax that was quickly approaching. Nothing stuck to her, her agility defying, taunting the silent screams rising in the throat of the soldier of Arachnos. With grace, she jumped forth from the ground, and took the Fortunata down as she fled, ripping her helmet off her head, and filling her skull with steam, blistering away the flesh till there was nothing left but an empty husk.

Pants thoroughly wet, the Crab Spider called out for help, for someone, anyone to help him. Scared faces simply stepped back and further from the scene in the city streets as a shadow fell upon him. Swift though his death was, the ripping of his body, and his entrails hanging, dashed upon the buildings, made it a clear sign to all that this Coralax, once a girl, once a hero nonetheless, was something to fear.

Blood boiling and festering like a patch of tar at her feet, her automaton collapsed in on itself and reattached itself to Brooke's body, as she choked up the remnants of another soldier's face to the ground. The red ichor of an over confidant Arachnos Squadron had painted the block, all buildings, even the windows had flesh strewn about them, cracked glass hanging onto tendrils of torn and blistered skin.

Steam began pluming out of the pack again, as any normal moment, as her arms began to cool again, slowly. She walked back to the corner where she first stood, and picked up a small packet, filled with leaves and herbs, tossing it into her pack, and sat still, the sight of her efforts in front of her, the smell filling the air. When her drink was read she picked up a dirty, beggar's cup, cleaned it with one burst of steam, before filling it with a slow pour of tea, drinking from it deeply and slowly.

The blue Coralax flesh began to recede back to near how her rash was before, further spread than it had been, now completely encompassing her arm, and a swab of her chest, as her human form slumped down, the tea spilling upon the ground, the cup rolled to a halt. She was shocked, and look at herself, and around, thinking the worse had happened. Not that she had done it, per se, but that something had been done to her. She had no memory of what she did, and who she did it to. Instead, something within her orchestrated new memories, fake ones. She was fortunate to survive, mostly unharmed even.