*bbztt* "Hey Meme. Why is there still a heister in play?"

*bzt* "What? Where? Calidus conked'm all out! Which is-"

*bt* "I think he means the one in the south quad. The one who looks a little over prepared to walk out of here with a haul. Guy sure hits like a truck for being so scrawny but…"

*bzt* "That guy wasn't in the truck! What are you talking about?"

*bbztt* "Shield sent a burst on our way out yesterday. Some random turned the distraction yall used into a beat down and took the spoils before running off to your van. It was like he was the cleanup crew making sure nothing got left behind. Baited Standard hard on your exfil apparently, so we have a good picture. That guy matches it to a t, bag and everything. Heh, she said he was even T-posing on the roof like all the crazy moves yall pulled were nothing. She was not happy about it."

*bzt* "…we didn't… Who the fuck is that?"

*zzzt* "Hmmm. I think our 'new variable' has come out to play. The one that Buckler and Seelenwut said got the better of them. He matches their basic description right down the detailed mask as well. Both were carrying quite the weight on their backs too. Keep an eye on him. If the Diades were really hiding enough to warrant that brazen a move, he's gotten ahold of more than just the scraps Meme sacrificed to get here."

*bzt* "How the fuck did-"

*bbztt* "Should we call it in? If we've got a third party here... If Tlaci's been found out-"

*zzzt* "Calm down. We have more than enough to handle this. We may even have better odds than you thought. Just stay your posts and keep your teams in the loop. This is our one shot, and I'd rather not waste the chance we already have. Just… don't let him surprise you. There are far bigger fish in the pond anyway. And Tlacaelel knows just how to strike them down-" *bzzzsshhhshshsh*

Striking.

Rhythmic.

Constant.

Beating.

The sound of metal hitting flesh and stone. Piles. Scraps. Slivers and plates mixed with raw jagged edges. The squelch and grit of taking those fragments and stabbing them in. Blood and sweat mixed in tinge. Blistering. Glistening. Seeping out and sizzling away from those thinking themselves 'blessed'. And pooling those left hollowed. Contorted in agony and crumpled to the sand. Trying to pull themselves away… or toward their taken worth. Their worth being shown in rising admiration. A stone bowel center stage collecting and weighing that which had been earned. An altar to which needed to be kept. That which now was adorned and soaking in like a parasitic carapace.

All of it muted behind the beat of a heart overdone with this farce.

Slamming down pile after plate. Slapping them into place with curdling surge and hiss. Constantly. Deridingly. The victors of the other groups seeming to tower over, bulging between and under their spoils. Twisting under disjointed ministration as taint and vile tone bade them higher. Purple and red and charring flesh pulsing to even hue, healing away what was now their beings made wrong. Half tones sucking away the energy of this place to build muscle that was not theirs. Eyes glaring at each and every piece yet to be theirs. Not slit but gleaming envy. Only mitigated by castigation and greater purpose. Though free flowing contempt under cast iron looked back at he who hadn't yet fulfilled his own. Their voice dancing between buzz and burden.

"You forget what you came here for? Or do you just prefer to remain weak like them?"

Seth could barely hear but could feel every syllable grate against him. An untrained, untenable, undeserved resonance washing over. Bleeding that raw emotion making up this hell. Glaring pure want at the trinkets hanging from his grip. They weren't truly worshiping him, they never were. They had fallen for something far worse. Something using his face as a mask so utterly fucking poignant. What he'd purged from the scrapes behind him, from the weak willed fools wearing them. As he made pure what it was that they had wanted.

As the sounds of closing wounds in stereo battled that grate.

Bones snapping back into place, grunts of pain becoming growls, shadows pounding the ground to rise themselves off it. A rhythmic chant starting up at his back, the stands signaling their want for more alongside those rising back up. Fighting and yet harmonizing with that beating in his ear. As he turned to face and know the consequences of his own lapse in judgment. To see the forest and trees and that dark clearing in full.

See the glare and feral glint under every cracked or shattered mask. See the greed burned out and replaced by hunger so very familiar. See every terror born mangle gritted into every contorting face lost to themselves. See every piece they still wore and grasped and marred their flesh with.

And last of all, see the discarded pack still full to its brim with the rest of his worth still needing to be blared to this world in the so very wrong.

His hand clenched, chain and trinket and reclaimed armor shards digging into his palm. Weight unheard pulling him down. No cold but at his back, heated regret pouring counter. The fires he lit wanting more, wanting to become real. The world devolving to derisive harmony of heart and clamor. A mockery of his effort to stay the course, to hold back and keep at least a semblance of peace between his mind and body. To not just let loose it all and end this cancer in a vicious storm of thunder and hellfire. Will cracking at every buzzing chuckle behind and every matched beat. Every snarl and step to take what was his. Every…

That seam closed tight and redirected its holdfast, fire raging inside him knowing better the path forward. The glare in those eyes, the follow of the jangling grip. Envy still had a hold, still played its tune in half thought rhythm. A scour only managed of the detritus and the overarching. That thing was still there in baser form. That Averous still existed as low note to his symphony they could not handle. So very familiar, so very known. But they had fallen to this abyss on their own. As all that he had used to kill it turned to threaded resonance. And so needed to be excised in full.

A step taken counter, away from the total greed and cacophony of those spared this by all their former claimants. Toward that burn wanting to become whole and real. Wanting more of his power, more of his tune, more of the reality of this existence that this shattered malignant souls craved. More of his armor to feel whole within. Like the discord of all those former bearers was smashed telluric to free it once again. Let out that small piece…

Of the laceroid they would have become.

No longer.

That jangling menagerie of scrap and purified hum in his hand was wrenched metaphysical. All of its power and thread and tonal existence taken and purged. And thus became nothing but useless metal, loosed to the air! Tossed before him for naught but the effect of its sudden freed presence. A burst, then another, and another and again! A ravenous surge forward into its mere proximity! The once gathering now a hoard of frenzied want so very hated! No longer shadows, no longer trees, just people lost to the whims of power they never understood in the slightest! And obstacles needing to be plowed through in prejudice!

Sudden tension exploded forward, shoulder beating out the lazy arc of baiting trinkets and becoming prow to barrel through the hoard! Barely noticed, unfocused on, but taking the path of greatest resistance. Crashing into that dagger wielding woman and whipped her back as Seth's arm righted itself wide. Letting the other shoulder take the lead and slam into that impacted chest servo's jaw. And keep going!

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Three deep, more crashing waves. A chest just as impacted becoming battering ram, an intercepting attempt to claw at his face interceded by fist, and a further body blown back as that ram was disembarked. A flash of gaudy tunic and bare unmasked face was reeled back from, gauntlet too present to not become real claws. That required a bit of realignment.

Air sliced just shy of Seth's face as the hoard collapsed. Those wide escaping the deadlock and scrambling for his bait. But those ahead jamming into a pile just as shy off the unmasked excessive. The one who's self-aggrandized worth was taken hold of proper. And refuted of its collective stature. Both hands finding edges and contours, pulling and twisting with the still enacting reel. Bringing along its host as Seth span him around, and turned his prized possession into sabot!

Snaking corruption burst in fried blood, coming off in thirds as their body flew dead set on the traffic jam. Spared servos and small linkages snapped and scattered, fingers remained but whole plates became new chum for the frenzy. The small crush of bodies burst in collision, three more given distance to fail at rethinking their intentions. The rest seeing the blood in the water and not even daring to look away. Arms clawed over and against, faces stomped into the sand, elbows throwing every which way. And the cause slipping between with but a relieving left hook to allow his heart a reprieve. The straight shot too needed to deviate from.

The melee devolving to its purest form. Nails digging at skin till they tore away and regrew, hair ripped off in chunks if it was even there to begin with, teeth sank in and yanked with all the might of a desperate animal, and blood fizzled into particulates and infinitesimal strands. Too much power to die of exsanguination or mass bodily harm, but not enough to just shrug it all off as worthless bluster. All of it reduced to wild looks flowing passed, those too close getting their crazed gazes backhanded out of the way. Till only the sounds of flesh and bone and metal and sand mixing together in a congealing ruination remained.

Till all that was left was the first rows of stands jeering against his immovable advance. Till only the reality that he had to accept was laid out before him.

That he had to take back up all that tainted metal.

A resentful hand leaned down, taking a disconnected strap for all it bore. Its clanging slosh was lost to the world, to even the one decrying its uptake required to quiet it all away. Shadows of being already falling over, as retained threads blared the songs of countless other thieves. Of that second-sun-scorched bastard sharing and watching all this pain go on and on in his name. In Seth's name. And deep in there, buried by so much passed along garbage, was that envy driving it all to ruin. No solid consciousness, just left over fragments wanting to become whole. An Averous that was but never could be. As its memories tried again to worm into him.

A city somewhat familiar, a scene just as but wildly incongruous. Heroes stacked up against it in judgment. A hoard once amassed to its call laid low. Those enthralled by its want and its gifts beaten, taken from it. From him. Because that was all this world did to him. Take. And take. And take. So he would take instead...

How utterly pointless this bullshit had been. The rotten past. Worthless. Just malignance that needing to be silenced. No mercy for those who choose to use this power, abuse his power. Only contempt and a sure degaussing!

Both straps being pulled up and slammed together, threads rewiring and snuffing out all its rogue resonance. Even as it writhed in the grave it shared with him long since overgrown. Seth's tone overwriting, siphoning it away to nothing, making right all that had been twisted and rotting within his armor. Until only that blinding light and dusted end showed through as true memorials. Shining… and calling only those who could see it. Calling all who bore the scraps of it.

The clanging and gnashing, beating and thrashing, all of it slowing down behind him. Shadows rising back up. Want near physical under their gaze! This thing had seen his light as well, felt envy beyond reckoning and swirled around it as foci. The same way Resent had been born, with his small words blared back at him like a mantra to be as one! The same way that protoconsciousness had latch to Threat's trauma, to that burned form held in his hands! All of it their own little slivers and experiences of just what they fucking looked up to! What made them what they were! That now had to be taken away, because it was not theirs to see!

Seth turned on them, turned to those crazed stares. Those wanting desperate looks. Those fragments of some long dead copycat that had burrowed into them! Still burdening this world with its taint! Those that had been shown the light that they wanted, that they needed, that they never knew was real! And that would purge them whole and cast them back to the mundane they despised, one scrape of stolen armor at a time!

The world hollowed, the stands echoed distant. Only the wail of that first zealot coming at him yet again. Now completely lost in feral hunger, slavering under that visage never truly his. Now seen truer than ever before. It was no one. Nothing. Just another… programmed to hate. And so deserved no reverence beyond the need to flatten it to a pulp!

The air split in crumpling iron, bone snapping by sheer proximity, being flashed back to sanity in instant regret. At the crimes committed to this their god! As the power they sought kept their lives from snuffing out! Suffused through and rang their souls for their own half-lives electric! But refused to give them reprieve from the pain they deserved!!

Seth's palm crushing that mockery of his existence into an iron mask of penance! And slamming that zealot to the sand like their life no longer mattered. Threads denying grey matter splatter, blood boiling back as bone stitched together, but nerves burned in righteous condemnation with every bit of stimulation demanded. As the pan of this arena shook, like the starting bell of the end of days!

Before that hand whipped down the zealot's body and hooked their meager worth away in raking crack.

Ark metal darkness suckling from him, outshining the shadow over Seth's face. As it burned away in that same plasma torrent so that the next to be purged saw that regret for themselves.

Sand nearly flashed to glass, knee caps nearly to spalled bolts, but another jagged welded together imitation saw its doom in truth harboring fist. Horizontal jaw struck in vicious order, to tumble dry them to centrifugal excess. And swing their thickly bound trinket free for the taking. Other hand snatching it, dragging them to rotational halt, and catapulting their disregarded countenance out of everyone's way. Because none of them mattered, none of what they would become mattered, only what they dared cling to! Only what they dared to claim! Their servo assembly meticulously retained and stuffed into a pocket with the first and far from last.

Bodies converged in muted tones, in that dazzling framework of the electrostatic trying to light them up the beyond their stations. Only truly bright around necks and in hands and stabbed into their skin. Until their one due mercy came down on them almighty!

A sternum impacted and came free in sudden wash of burdening expense. Another servo housing, barely accompanied, just slivers and chain links forged of his copper melt. A neck received chop and blood flow impediment, tight links around it shattering before the rest of the body caught up with its new inertia. The jangling squares of titanium and armor they held taken from the air they were shot to. Before that inertia proved too slow and that darkening body was kicked away with its ilk. Catching another as they tried to round the growing scramble ahead. Toppling that jaw knife right at Seth's feet in barely righting roll.

The slashing woman tried to stand back up but that foot crashed into her shoulder, hand fresh from a pocket swallowing her own, and pulling it wrong so its quarry would be let go. Bone popped in its unprepared socket, wail just noise so distant and beneath. Till that jagged edge was taken from her and that foot came off her back. But that hand stayed around her wrist. Grip twisting and momentum building, as her depowering body was pulled about and flung away like all the rest. Like they all deserved!

Impacts rang in this, their god's condemnation. Snapping and tearing with the pain thought beyond them. Servo after servo, sliver after spalled off scrap, pieces and particles and barely plates. All of it sang his return to those few who could feel it proper in the flash they were allowed. Before their lights were snuffed out for the blasphemy they perpetrated. Jaws shattered, knees buckled, elbows and shoulders made to suffer. Pain was all they were due for this, their only reward and the one mercy owed. For at least their madness did not sink them to the level of their predecessor defilers. No Resent to use and abuse their bodies. No old Rage to twist and take them over. But still…

This cancerous ritual was wearing Seth thin.

Bodies fell or flew devoid of their slapdash threading, free of the taint and powerless once again. Seth's pockets filled with the pieces they bore, weighing down even this over righteous crusade. Depressing it down to heavy steps rattling the metallic floor below the sand. As the last to be deprived flopped back under gasping breath and crunched airway. The once gauntlet now just gloveless fingers holding him aloft. As each were plucked from unwilling digits. Little bones crying where he could only wheeze between snarls. Foot stamping down on the other hand trying to protest. Till every missing piece in this group was returned to Seth's care, and the gaudy flagrancy was finally rectified. As that last body was added to the spread by whipping toss.

This fight was finally won, this small round of opening festivities that lead into the main event. This half-assed overdrive having fallen away to the mundane again, to that same scene still playing out because there was just too much to go around. Bodies gathered around a stone dish to count and know the winnings they now wore. The collective worth taken up and accumulated. Bet with and bet on. Slapped onto their bodies as trophy and armor and power rolled into one. Now far more numerous and plainly hazardous as skin and muscle faired poor beneath. But one missing piece rang hollow in the scene.

Because the sounds had stopped and the betting booth had closed.

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