optics spotted the heroes standing up in all their vomit-covered glory as they rushed off into the building- likely going to their vehicles to try and catch up with me.
Thankfully, there were no flyers in the Brockton Bay Protectorate, but that didn't matter much when Eidolon's green-cloaked frame flew out of the window in pursuit of us.
He sure freed himself from that mountain of containment foam fast. A brief review of the CCTV footage hexed from the Rig's security network told me how: a few seconds ago, a Eidolon flew out of a broom closet- the telltale spatial-warping of the Cauldron cape Doormaker visible for just three frames.
They were breaking out the Cauldron infrastructure now?
This was bad.
"All nearby forces, converge on my position!"
We hear and obey, O' Forgelord!
Suddenly, Dragon's left wing sheared right off- along with parts of her left leg- sending the two of us spiralling out of control as we veered to the side.
Eidolon used a cutting power similar to Faultline. Dragon's Suit is not protected by neither a Manton field nor hexagrammic wards.
Unfortunately for Eidolon, Dragon and I were both machines, and our gyroscopes gave us perfect aim even as we spiralled out of control towards the ground. The {Arc Rifle} in my index finger cracked again. However, the green-cloaked cape was expecting it apparently as the lightning bolt simply dissipated against a forcefield of his.
With precise maneuvering of Dragon's right wing, we righted ourselves just enough land on a relatively clear strip of road on the boardwalk. Our landing wasn't as violent, but it wasn't gentle either- tearing up the wooden boards as we crash landed. With the leg of Dragon's Suit sheared off, she was going to need assistance to move.
Even more unfortunately, there were no less than two PRT trooper patrols in the immediate vicinity- likely having rushed in our direction as soon as we flew out of the Rig.
Two dozen armoured men with even more armoured cars mounted with foam sprayers surrounded us with their tasers and foam throwers. A veritable wall of black armoured uniforms and armaments. The display of preeminent PRT power was completed when Eidolon's green-cloaked frame descended the sky- his arms crossed over his chest he gazed down at us imperiously.
"Magos, you're surrounded." He announced matter-of-factly. "And don't even try with your sonic weapon: I have earplugs. Raise your hands up if you agree."
But I didn't have to. The two dozen men and armoured vehicles suddenly found themselves beset by red-robed figures dropping down onto them from the roofs of the nearby buildings.
Like ninjas, they darted with a swiftness that rendered them as nothing but red blurs. Caught unawares and unprepared, the black uniformed troopers fell like wheat to a scythe, the crack of Mechanicus taser weapons furiously zapping out several times over the blink of an eye.
PRT Troopers fell to maces wreathed in lightning- bones crunching under strikes, and armoured cars suddenly had their engines shot out by lightning bolts shot from {Arc Pistols}. The whole thing couldn't have been longer than two seconds and yet, by the end of it, Eidolon's green cloak was standing alone in a sea of Mars-red robes.
"No, you are surrounded." I corrected Eidolon- even projecting a hololith pane to type out my message, "I already gave the PRT my warnings- you chose to ignore it. Surrender, Eidolon; and don't try anything: Those weapons do more than shoot lightning, but you're welcome to find out for yourself if you wish. My patience for non-lethal measures has come to an end."
I could see him pondering to do just that right before my Procession Squad came running out of the water. The chicken-legged {Ironstrider Engines} with their taser lance-wielding riders, the pair of bulky {Castellax battle-automata} with their power fists and Graviton cannons, and the {Onager Dunecrawler} with the 'non-lethal' Eradication Beamer.
Seeing the myriad of glowing weapons pointed at him, Eidolon sighed as he raised his hands above his head.
"Are these new types of your battle-servitors?" He asked.
"We are the Skiitarii of the Legio Cybernetica. And today, the PRT has met its match." The very feminine and very familiar voice answered him and caused Eidolon to do a double-take on the forces that surrounded him- his eyes staring at them.
Mars-red robes over thick breastplates, gas masks under heavy red cowls, and arc weaponry glowing a bright blue with dangerous amounts of energy stored in their perma-capacitors.
"Wait, are those Chloes?" Eidolon said weakly- before turning to face me, "Magos… are you using your sex dolls as your soldiers now?"
"Proud sex dolls of Magos!" a pair of {Slutty Skitarii} Chloes corrected- hugging each of my legs in their armoured cleavages of their articulated breastplates.
"We are his Chloes and we shall know no fear!" another declared a shout- cupping her armoured chest in pride and striking a sexy pose like a lingerie model.
"Fornicatio ex Machina!" Another grabbed my crotch with a clang, and the rest of the Chloes in Skitarii gear cheered and pumped their fists in the air.
"Fornicatio ex Machina!"
"Why does everything have to be a joke to you?!" Eidolon furiously demanded. "Does everything have to be robotic sex dolls with you?"
"Yes. " I glanced all around us to the unconscious PRT troopers. "My sex dolls are certainly leagues more effective than your average sweaty underpaid meatshield minions, wouldn't you say?"
"Don't remind me…" The 'fourth most powerful being on earth' huffed angrily as a Chloe injected him with one of the sedatives taken from a PRT patrol car, "I have spent decades cultivating a reputation. Decades! And now you come to take me hostage by your sex dolls! How did you even manage to get this force past all the PRT outpo- ugh…"
Eidolon collapsed unconscious before my feet as I gave him my answer.
"There is certainly a time and place for the average sweaty underpaid meatshield minions!"
[Brockton Bay City] (A few minutes ago)
Lisa, or Tattletale as she was known when she was sweating in this purple costume, led the way- guiding her mutant canine mount through the tight alleyways and into an abandoned warehouse. The gothic steeples of Magos' factory-cathedral pierced the blue sky a short distance away. Grand stone statues of robed figures praying to a nameless god in the machine.
"Control, this is the Undersiders, reporting from our designated rally point." Lisa reported into her comms. She didn't know when her life turned towards the strange.
"Control acknowledges, Undersiders." The feminine voice calmly responded through Lisa's comms. "Stand ready for fire mission."
"Undersiders copy."
"Alright, spill it." Brian patiently asked- crossing his arms over his leather jacket as the giant, mutated dogs that they were on lay on the ground. "What's the job from the boss this time, Tats?"