He was not worthy to stand up and fight.

That was an charge given to the worthy and the strong, those capable of overturning the shackles that bound them to this world. The strong who had long been subdued, but were now beginning to rouse themselves. Michael Navidson had found his flame. Knight Naito had faced his mockery with the foolish brazenness of youth.

Where does that leave me? The admin thought as he woke. He gave a nod to PENELOPE LIVY as the eerie silence. The calm before the storm, mere moments before the world was overturned and wrath erupted forth. Nobody wanted to be chained up and confined in this nightmare world.

Even those chained beyond the walls of this prison did not want to wake, realizing that they were trapped. He would not end up like Cillian Quinn .

"This is it, councilwoman." Howard's voice was a murmur, a rasp like a brush over stone. Eerie in the silence before the breakout. "When this started, I was fine with rotting in a cell. Hell, I still am. I knew many of us would escape, eventually, but I never counted myself among them. Only the deserving should get to escape. Only those who are worthy should get to dictate their fate, but..."

The cell doors grinded open.

"I want to live." His mask gleamed. "It's what Doug would've wanted."

The damn broke. Chaos erupted.

---

Hear me, false world. I proclaim our victory, here and now. I proclaim the failings of our species, here and now. Our vision is blurred, our limbs fragile, and our perspectives have stagnated.

I have studied history for all my life. I declare this:

These flaws will be cast down into nothingness. I can't guide anyone, but...

...I can look forward, just for a moment.

---

Perhaps this was the reformation of the human perspective. Rocket and League cooperated, every once in a while. If they could fight this monkey with as much fervor as they fought each other, this war against a dying world would be won. Hoenn would not be turned into another page in someone else's history book.

One way down.

As he dodged a blast of latent psychic energy, Howard realized he could see from both eyes. His gaze was hazed magenta. Whether that was from his own rage or the chain's influence, he did not know. He did not care. He already used the power of one god for humanity's benefit. What was another?

"MONKEY!" Howard screamed at the drooling thing as it attempted to foretell a future where its victory could be assured. There was no need for it to do that, because all futures were the same now: mankind's victory. "WHAT WAS IT FOR?"

He didn't want the Megalopolans to answer. He wanted it to. He had been mocked by it, laughed at by his cellmates, and scorned in the false dream.

"I SAW YOU!" Howard screamed, spittle flying from his lips as he rushed towards it. Visions flashed in his magenta haze, visions induced by strange mochi and odd herbs. Memories of four creatures fleeing Route 119. It had dodged his question. He wasn't even sure if it could answer.

He would pursue the answer to his query even if it cost him his other eye.

TOXIC CHAIN ABILITY: Les Prophéties

Howard's other eye works, though his vision is now a shade of magenta. He is now functionally colorblind. League and Rocket are symbolically the same.

When he or a bestie are in mortal peril, he can foretell it through a 'vision' or 'flash' or 'sixth sense'. Only works if the attack is mortally perilous (kills you).

"BACK THEN! THAT VISION WAS YOU! IT WAS YOU RUNNING AWAY FROM THE CRIME! Suddenly, his vision shifted. It was like he was looking behind him at a strike that was yet to come. "ANSWER ME!"

He ducked. The strike missed. The historian who looked backwards elected to look forward instead. It was what Doug would have wanted.

"ONE WAY DOWN!"

---

Return of Paperwork Guy:tm:
Remembers the MONKEY
ONE WAY DOWN
Weird retrospective like what???
his power is that he's now munkidori (the memes foretold this)
Jumpin' dat monkey
5rTsYYlO

Once more he found himself surprised, though admittedly not by much. Part of him had assumed that the previous demonstrations had merely been a warning, meant to instill fear and keep the populace compliant. The logical part of his mind never seriously considered that they would go on to cripple more of their workforce, much less kill them. It was simply asinine and did nothing but harm their own purposes. The rest of his mind, however, the parts that felt nothing but disdain and disgust, revulsion at everything he'd been forced to endure in the past week, was not surprised in the least when he found his feet had parted with the floor. Of course they were that stupid.

He felt every bone in his body shatter with the repeated impacts, the muscle compressing them to dust and grinding the shards into his flesh. His head bounced off the floor with each downward thrust until he was quite certain the back of his skull had been cracked open. There was certainly enough blood, pouring from every orifice, streaming from the mask in a cascade of crimson. And then it stopped. He found himself staring upwards, his body slowly cooling, muscles not responding. He couldn't feel the pain anymore; couldn't feel anything. So it's true. He'd heard that, after death, the brain remained conscious long enough to realize it's own end. This was certainly not how he'd ever pictured discovering the truth of that.

Darkness crept in around his vision. He could hear Aubre, but she seemed so far away. The sound took forever and a day to reach him.i It was just a by product of course, his fading vision was soon consumed by her. And then the sounds stopped as well, and all he could see was the mask; and even it was swiftly fading. His only regret? That he couldn't see them smile, one last time.

Then, unbelievably, life rushed back through his body, filling him with warmth and energy beyond what he could have ever expected, his vision returned in full force, the lights blinding him as his pupils rapidly dilated and retracted. He heard Aubre again, and though at first glad, the rage quickly returned, turning the warm glow to a burning heat. More pertinently, he could now feel the fleshy tendril that had forced it's way down his throat and he quickly gagged, his shattered arms trying in vain to remove it, unable to even move themselves. Thankfully it soon retracted, leaving him briefly gasping for air that still managed to choke him. His eyes looked up at the mask, knowing that behind it was beauty unassailable; and he laughed, though pain ripped through every single nerve ending as he did so. "Now I....know how....he feels...." He tried to grasp her hand, but his arms remained where they were. "I will....have to kill....him if you....do. I am not...going anywhere..."

Though it galled him to have Aubre forced to drag him back to the cell, there was really nothing he could do. His body was shattered, possibly irreparably, and simply breathing took all that he could bear. As result the final days passed in a blur as he lay on the cot in their cell, unable to perform their tasks by their own actions. He could only imagine what they thought of it; the idiots probably blamed him for their malfeasance. It was only at night that he rose, walking through the dream once more with Aubre; after a time, at least. She'd had many choice words for him that first night, none of which bore repeating in polite company, but they soon found an accord, of sorts. The other nights they walked, talked, spoke of the visions and their implications. Though Leon had no taste for such things, he could not deny the truth of the matter: something was speaking to them, putting them on a path of its own design. Where that path led, for good or ill, was yet to be determined.

When the revolt began, he found that he was again surprised, though this time it was by a great deal more. He had not expected any of these fools to have the gall, particularly after the most recent display of brutality. Yet he was wrong, and from every corner of the ward they swarmed like ants. Likewise he could hear the stomping of feet above and the clamor from below, leading to one inescapable conclusion; the entire prison was in revolt.

His mind obviously spun into high gear, but in his current condition there was little he could do; he couldn't even move afterall. But there Aubre was, his crimson angel, hauling him up and striking her own blow at their captors. His heart stirred, and his mind hardened. Crippled or not, he would see her out of this safely, even if it cost him what little life he had left. As sapphire eyes swept the ward his gaze narrowed. And in turn he would see them dead for the harm they had caused her, and the indignities they had foisted upon him. Though he was not aware of how or why, the chain that had previously constricted him began to morph. Where once purple links had strangled him, their now stood a humanoid figure, a being of metallic silver that reflected the light from every direction. Rather than arms, it instead bore a pair of rotary cannons, still at first as the barrels stared blankly intl the darkness. It strode before them, and as it did a pale glow embraced his wife, and any others it might be able to reach that were directly engaging their foes. Blows and forc directed their way simply died, the energy seemingly absorbed. It was this power that the metal being drew upon, its 'arms' out stretching before it, locking into place as slowly, and then faster and fast they spun. With each revolution came an eruption of power, as though it were spitting bullets formed of the very powers it was absorbing. Though careful not to hit any of the prisoners it was otherwise indiscriminate, its body slowly panning across the ward, shells of inexplicable power ripping into any guard or ward not quick to seek shelter.

He limped along behind as Aubre half dragged, half carried him onto the waiting platform. The silver knight remained behind, the shells continuing to pour and engulf the entire ward. He did not think he could control it, whatever it was seemed to possess it's own...perhaps not sentience, but certainly purpose. It acted of its own will, and it seemed its desire was to reduce the entire prison to splintered pulp.

⚰︎ divider made by milky!

*Dummy Ward
*Ouchie
*How dare you Aubs
*Leon is in the doghouse again
*Toxic Chain Power: Spiteful Maxim - A metallic humanoid able to form a barrier around others that absorbs hostile acts and transmutes the power into 'shells' fired from the rotary cannons replacing its arms.
*Sorry its a bit late, its been a really rough week for me. xx
DVweATej

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[attr="class","chartag"]howard slayte paxton concordas illeana reyes

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Dream, visit Chi-yu, talk to jayden cross.
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Work.
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Dream, visit freya morningstar.
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Work.
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Dream, visit paxton concordas.
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Work.
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Everything was different after Penelope's visit to the Chamber of the Desires. Now, faced with the truth of her intense ENVIES, there was no escaping the reality that has followed her since Mt Chimney. It hid in every flash of shadow, it strangled every pleasant conversation.
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To breathe was to remember, to live was to deny.
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Still, she pressed onwards, forcing down mochi after mochi, withstanding the nightly torment of close proximity with howard slayte.
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Until the day finally arrived. The day of freedom.
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howard slayte's nod was wholly ignored. Instead, when the time came to stand, she approached with words far less sentimental in nature. "Escape, rot - doesn't matter. If we meet again, I'll kill you myself." She slowly inched toward the cell door, eyes already escaping far from the conversation. "Til then, if you make it out, say hi to that mummified friend of yours for me."
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The damn broke. Chaos erupted.
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Bodies rushed out into the wards, washing every inch of the warden in a blur of colors. Penelope immediately kicked into the mix, shoving past the throng of freed prisoners, wasting no time in deciphering faces, too enraptured with the dangling carrot of unspoken freedom.
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Until a familiar voice sliced through the crowd.
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"PENELOPE LIVY , where are you?"
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Her eyes grasped for the words, hungrily awaiting the relief they promised, but before a connection could be made, a sudden force threw her shoulder backwards, sending her sprawling.
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"What the-"
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It was a guard. Lanky and splashed with the strange combination of colors, the frenzied man's purpose was clear. To return Penelope back to her cage, back where her weaknesses lay, back where she'll die.
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Not again. Not this time.
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Willpower pulsed through her veins, and without realizing it, the toxic chain that once bound her to these walls began to rise as Monkidori's had. As it hit its zenith, stark red strings overtook her immediate surroundings, linking each person with another, or each person with an item, a path, a destination. Instinctually she knew what it meant: each one was a cause, each one leading to an effect. A probability. A fate. A deniable truth.
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One came from the guard, tethering him to her, him to another, him to his weapon, him to every possibility linking him to his prescribed future. All she needed to do was rewrite and rearrange. And so she does; in those few seconds of tight intensity, a puppet became a puppeteer, pulling and cutting red strings, retying the guard to the fate of falling to the ground, granting ample opportunity to ensure he'd never regain footing.
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By the time her fight concluded, illeana reyes became easily found, lurking near the exit where Penelope's heart stretched toward. "I'm coming!"
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Heart pounding into her chest, the councilwoman swiftly broke into the head scientist's immediate group, taking note of every flash of red that followed.
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"Let's get the fuck out of her-" Words shriveled on the tongue. From one look at illeana reyes, Penelope bore witness to a flood of crimson, stretching outwards from her like tendrils. Each one attached itself to a nearby guard or prisoner. "Illeana your chain! You're"
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Words weren't required. The picture of decay had already painted the extent of her imagination, wringing out every villain, until each one carried a gaunt look of terrible age.
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But what of her? What if -
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"I've got your back. Whatever you need."
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Forced backward, further from the reach of crimson death, Penelope stared back up at paxton concordas, still reeling from the distress of revelation. "Thanks," was all she could muster, both exhausted by their surroundings and the haunting period that had almost retired her existence from this world. "Let's focus on escape. If you see freya morningstar, make note, and let's try to join her. There's no guarantee we'll all get out of here, but I rather not return to Evergrade alone."

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POWER: TIES OF FATE[break]
Penelope's power allows her to see visible red lines connecting people to the various possibilities one might take. Each one ties an object (cause) toward the future it'll affect. With this, Penelope can MANIPULATE one's fate by snipping and altering the lines of cause and effect, creating a more preferable outcome.
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WHY/DESIRE:[break]
This relates to Penelope's desires, as she conflicts with her own predestined fate. After seeing the vision from the MASK of Desires, Penelope is stuck in denial, unable to come to terms with the truth of her own wants. Because of this, she rejects the fate being written and holds a conflicting desire to rewrite what's been done. [break][break]
- Wakes up, barks at howard slayte, promises his death [break]
- joined escape efforts, hear illeana call her name[break]
- uses power to fuck up guard, then joins illeana [break]
- notices a lot of fate threads coming from illeana, gets scared, paxton saves her [break]
- slightly looking for freya