(Aug

(Aug. 30, 2004/2217)

MavBerlin - Throne Room

A hundred yards or more in width and at least a thirty in height is this massive room. The walls, floor and ceiling appear to be constructed of a golden alloy that has been polished to a mirror shine.

The great hall is decorated lavishly, great crimson tapestries that bear the countenence of Emperor Sigma hanging from every wall. Hanging from rods of gleaming brass are smaller squares of regal violet that proudly display the insignia of the Coalition for Reploid Freedom. These overlook the long path square marble stones that are set into the golden floor in a row from the hall's doors to the raised golden pedestal that stands near the farthest wall of the room.

This pedestal is some twenty feet high and ten thick, providing a perfect base for the glorious throne that stands upon it. This grand chair, made of shining white crystal appears both comfortable and larger-than life, with light reflecting off of it's faceted surfaces to reflect once again from the polished walls. Computer screens and controls are set into one shining arm of it, and a regal violet cloth has been draped upon it to serve as a buffer between the cold crystal and the body of the one who sits in it. Benath the pedestal are a pair of armed guards, always keeping anyone who might stray into the room away from the pedestal and enforcing security. This is afterall, the throne room of the Maverick Empire -- and that chair is reserved for Sigma alone.

To the side of the throne, a smaller, while still grandly decorated, less ornate chair sits. Thsi chair is for the standing regent, as no one would dare use the Throne of Sigma.

South <S> leads to MavBerlin - Computer Core.

((Sigma

Some ten feet in height, Sigma is a head or more taller than the average Reploid that one would encounter, giving him just a little bit of an edge in being seen in a crowd. Nonetheless, this head difference of height is hardly enough to unsettle the minds of those who encounter him -- it is the reputation that preceeds him that is most often responsible for this, for he is regarded by many as the Savior of the Reploid Race and branded the most dangerous and evil monster that technology has ever created. Either way, an aura of charisma seems to radiate from him, generated as much by both his posture and manner of movement as his occasional bursts of stirring rhetoric.

His characteristically bald head is visible first, polished to a notable shine -- something accentuated by the gleaming red jewel that has been set into the very center of his brow. Beneath it, cerulean blue optics; framed by vertical, triangular red scars above and below, look out at the world with calmness and intelligence. They are matched by a anticiptory smile and a squared chin, most often giving the Emperor a look of almost brazen overconfidence.

The body of Sigma is a basic green in color, possessing a wide breath of shoulders to match, although the green itself gives away to a heavily armored collar just beneath the Emperor's neck. His abdominal plating is an ebony black and styled in an almost organic manner, giving the appearance of a muscular humanoid torso. All of this is relatively free of adornments, beyond the large crimson gem that is set into the left half of his torso -- roughly where one would expect a pectoral muscle to be.

His waist is encircled by a crimson belt-like assembly, serving as a cosmetic barrier between the styled abdominal armour and the legs beneath. Set into his groin is a downward angled plate of gold and silver armour, which gives away on both sides to ebony black legs -- which whilst slightly thin for his heavy torso, give the appearance of great agility.

Eventually, beneath the knee, black is harshly brought to a stop by the gleaming silver of bracelet-like, spiked guards that encircle the tops of his brown-colored boots. These, wider than his thighs in characteristic reploid style, are accentuated by red and white anke renforcement and a silver and green arch that rests over the top of his feet.

Moving back upwards, one would notice that from the sides of his verdant torso, powerful arms are seen to extend from his broad shoulders. Green in the upper portions and giving way to blue for the lower arms, they bear heavy spiked renforcement about the wrist -- giving the appearance of a freak gothic bracelet, framing the heavy silver and white fists beneath them. The shoulders themselves are invisible -- hidden beneath heavily armored, gleaming silver shoulder pauldrons that serve as an anchor for the red cape that frames Sigma's body, billowing about him at every move. Red at least, on the outside -- for when faced from the front, one can see that the interior lining of it is a highlighting purple.

Confident and striking is this individual, the Emperor Sigma. Almost too confident, for you may notice that he is apparently armed with but a Single weapon -- a small cylinder barely two and a half feet long. It is rather technological in appearance, not unlike a lightsabre from the ancient star wars movie, and is held in a sheath upon Sigma's crimson belt.))

The massive gold-gilt doors glide open silently, light and shadow playing across the polished floor. The figure that dares to intrude upon the Throne Room is smaller in stature than most of the Mavericks, yet even his footsteps echo in the cavernous room. Dr. Sigmund Doppler does not walk as quickly as he once did, the rapping of his cane against the floor a reminder of how much he has lost.

To the casual observer, the Throne Room itself appears to be empty. However, a shadow is drifting casually along the ceiling -- Reaper Sigma. Upon Doppler's arrival however, it dissapears -- flitting downwards and coalescing into the shape of Sigma's standard frame. Oddly enough, he is carrying what appears to be a cigar -- something rather unlike him. He is not chewing on it or the like -- just has it between his fingers as he rounds to walk towards the good Doctor, cape flaring out behind him. "I see you live."

<O-Coalition> Not-So User Friendly: Cyber Peacock says, "www.geocities.com/entitynumber134/M3Logs.html"

Dr. Doppler's brow is furrowed in a faint frown, his head bowed slightly forward. As Sigma makes his presence known, the doctor lowers himself to one knee, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Emperor. Yes, I still live."

Sigma seems to be fairly jovial, twirling the seemingly randomly present cigar around in his right hand as though it were something more impressive somehow than Doctor Doppler. His tone is cheerful, too. "How Fortunate. As it stands, you will return to your lab and begin construction of a new body for me. Viral Sigma Mark Two, in fact. The same as the last -- only finish the exterior this time. As much as being a walking skeleton is appropriate, it is hardly charismatically impressive. At least make my mouth move, this time."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock transmits, "Hmm. Hmm hmm. It appears Repliforce is continuing it's assault on Africa."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Sigma transmits, "Let them. With all due luck, they will kill each other."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock sounds droll. "If only we would be so lucky. From what I'm hearing, they aren't having an easy time tonight. Quite entertaining."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Sigma transmits, "Oh? Elaborate?"

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock patches through a few transmissions:[RADIO: (G)] Rep Jet Stingray offers weakly, "How is the battle doing... How important is it... For me.... To win?"[RADIO: (G)] Rep Storm Owl transmits, "Fortress V has come under heavy assault. Moving to engage the Delta Sphere itself."[RADIO: (G)] Rep Storm Owl transmits, "Extremely, Jet Stingray."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Flame Hyenard transmits, "PANSIES."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock transmits, "It only makes sense. Sooner or later the campaign was bound to lose momentum as the Robot Masters had time to prepare defenses. Still, it will be interesting to see how it turns out. The Masters have been in constant retreat since we kicked them out of France."

Dr. Doppler does not move from his current position, his eyes fixed upon Sigma's reflection upon the gilded floor. Gone is his usual pride, his self-assurance of his place at his son's side. He seems almost humbled, his expression penitent. At the request, his gaze lowers further still. "...I cannot, my lord."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Wind Crow transmits, "I honestly think there problem is an odd displacement of their base from their territory. Situating Tokyo was a mistake they're going to regret."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Wind Crow transmits, "(In Tokyo)"

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock transmits, "The placement of Skull Monument in Tokyo was intended as an insult to the Maverick Hunters. It worked wonderfully in that respect, but I tend to agree, it was a bad choice in others."

Sigma strangely does not make any negative reaction, presumably because he does not know or understand quite what the Doctor means. After all, he could be being modest or the like. An optic ridge is raised, and the cigar is tucked into a patch on his belt -- hidden away once again. "Oh?" He inquires, in a slightly less jovial tone. "And why would that be? Given enough time, there is no reason that you cannot." He shrugs slightly -- turning away. "Tell me, as well......What did Repliforce do to you?"

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Wind Crow transmits, "As useful as teleporters are, the ability to move high amounts of troops from a base to a hotspot is fairly limited. The distance between Tokyo and Africa are extreme. Insulting as it was, establishing in Tokyo had no long lasting effect on the hunters."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Flame Hyenard transmits, "WILYNOBRAINJUSTEGO."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock transmits, "You must realize that the Robot Masters do not house the bulk of their forces in Skull Monument, Crow. In fact, I would say that at any given time, the Monument only houses 1/4-1/2 of the Masters themselves, and a relatively number of Joes and drones. The bulk of their forces remain spread out over their holdings in Africa."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Sigma transmits, "However, history has proven many, many times that no organization may hold an excessive amount of territory far from their home base."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Wind Crow transmits, "My point exactally, Commander."

Dr. Doppler chooses to answer the latter question first. He slips into German - while his English has considerably improved since the stroke, he finds their native tongue much easier. "<Repliforce captured me because Octavius ordered it be done. He believed that I could be cured of the Virus. They tried, and they failed. He could not bring himself to kill me, especially not when you were holding pathetic human lives hostage. That is why he let me go. >"

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Cyber Peacock transmits, "I was not disputing the overall point, Lord Sigma, only the argument used to support it."

[Radio: (A) Mav-Chat] Sigma transmits, "I was merely making an addition to the conversation. I am involved in other things."

Sigma nods his head, very slightly. "Very typical of him." He states, his back facing the Doctor. Silence reigns for some seconds, before the Emperor grows somewhat impaitent -- turning upon his heel to stride towards the other. "Regardless, you have returned. In one piece, in theroy at least. However, that said -- what of the replacement body?"

Dr. Doppler waits with bated breath, his face a mask of penance. Whatever thoughts he may have, he keeps them carefully hidden. "" They are spoken as fact, with overtones of apology.

Sigma can be seen to pause -- his jovial expression fading away to something like impaitence, arms lifting to a cross -- the fingers of his left hand rapping in sequence upon his right bicep. His optics narrow and his face becomes a bit more intent. "And why would that be?" He asks, simply.

Dr. Doppler still does not meet Sigma's eyes, his gaze firmly on the ground before him. The position in which he kneels is awkward, his grip tightening on his cane to keep his balance. ""

Sigma curiously does not say anything for a long moment. However, finally his optic ridge twitches markedly upon the left side. But beyond that, little shows in the face of the Emperor. His voice as he speaks is completely monotone. "I see." He states, and bends forward -- casually meaning to seize Doctor Doppler by the collar of his labcoat and hoist him off the ground to let him dangle with his feet some three foot or so above the floor. Nothing particularialy painful or devastating, just holding aloft and letting hang. "So. Do you mean to tell me that you /deliberately/ destroyed the plans? There are no backups or carbon copies?"

Dr. Doppler grunts as he's lifted from the ground, the metal cane clattering to the ground as it slips through his fingers. The noise echoes through the room for several moments. He does not struggle, hanging limply in the Emperor's grasp. ""

[Radio: (B) Mav-Main] Sigma is audible over the channel, his voice sounding curiously rational and calm given what it says. "For those of you who wish to attend the likely exectution of Doctor Sigmud Doppler, I suggest highly that you make your way to the Throne Room."

[Radio: (B) Mav-Main] Flame Hyenard transmits, "COOL."

[Radio: (B) Mav-Main] Data Raccoon transmits, "..."

Tactical Raccoon has arrived.

Data Raccoon has arrived.

Overclock has arrived.

Flame Hyenard has arrived.

[Radio: (B) Mav-Main] Cyber Peacock transmits, "Alas."

Cyber Peacock has arrived.

The Throne Room is actually fairly empty at the moment, with the exception of the two motionless guards at the base of Sigma's throne. Sigma is standing roughly in the middle of it, looking curiously unemotional given the fact that he's just announced Doppler's impending death over the radio. He is actually half smiling, although a careful look would reveal the fact that the artificual musculature above his left eye is twitching violently and his jaw is clenching as though to break a stone between the upper and lower mandible. He is in standard Sigma form as well. Hanging from his right hand, his feet suspended three feet or so above the floor is the Good Sigmund Doppler, Sigma having a hold of the Doctor's lab coat. Beneath him is a metal cane -- but he doesn't appear to be struggling. The Emperor's voice is heard then, giving a very hoarse whisper. "You were not yourself, is that it?" He is asking. "You were not /YOURSELF/? That is the very best that the greatest human mind in existance can come up with?! You were not *YOURSELF?*"

Agile has arrived.

Commander Tactical Raccoon enters the throne room, pushing through the crowd of gawkers just outside (those too afraid to enter but still curious to see what is happening) by virtue of his rank and reputation. TR isn't in his usual uniform -- Tactical is wearing one of is many colorful t-shirts instead, since he was off-duty. He looks vaguely alarmed, but is maintaining a professional demeanor. The fresh round of shouting significantly slows his approach.

Who is there that likes to see the top of the hierarchy crash onto the lower level? Hyenard. They are all rather casually wandering in, holding a beer as they all tend to.. Hey. What's an execution with a beer?

Zip! Flash! Blur! What was that? It's an excited X-Hunter, that's what it is! Agile is here (he's too fast to pose /entering/, so he's simply /there/) leaning up against a wall, grinning lightly at the occurences happening here. This maverick likes death, no matter who, when, or where, so the mention of an execution has him running. And here he is.

A small video screen on the wall near one of the doors, some kind of security display, suddenly lights up by itself.. displaying a purple and blue Peacock-feather insignia. A moment later a flash of light briefly fills the room, a bright green line appearing about 8 feet off the ground, then scanning downwards, leaving a wireframe Cyber Peacock shape behind it.. and then scanning back up again, filling in color and substance. This process takes only a second, and after that singular moment of time, the fully solid Cyber Peacock is there, hovering a few inches above the floor. He immediatly turns his head to look towards Sigma and Doppler, although he remains across the room and comes no closer.

Overclock got here as fast as he could without turning on the afterburners. He assumes his medrest is up. Still, there's a crowd building, and it's going to be rough for him to make it to the front...no matter how desperately he needs to find out what was happening, and, well, stop it from happening.

Data Raccoon isn't far behind those curious enough to actually dare step into the throne room. Though she's had to resort to using her l33t spy ski11z to scurry across a wall to get to the doors and climb in, to avoid having to try and shove her way through. Once inside though she drops to the floor, landing not far from Tactical. Of course not. Gotta stick close to her ma.. err mech.

Dr. Doppler dangles in his son's grasp, held aloft by the decorative collar of his labcoat. He does not resist being held so roughly. He does not even attempt to clutch to Sigma's arm to steady himself. "" he says, his voice one of regret but not yet pleading. ""

Sigma continues as though nothing was said, still speaking in a hoarse whisper -- barely having registered that someone else is in the room. "You. Were. Not. Yourself." He maintains, before suddenly switching into a rather large tangent. Every second word of it is punctuated by a violent shaking of the man that dangles from his hand.

"Tell me, Father.." He uses the word father in an almost mocking way, adding an extra shake to it. "Do you realize what it is to reach the pinnacle of your dream, and have it taken away from you?" The question is apparently rhetorical, for Sigma hoists the other to eye levell -- the twitching of his left optic growing more and more violent, an easily discernable spasm at the moment. He continues, voice now even lower -- so low that those present would have to strain to hear him. "Do you? Just once -- I almost achieved my destiny. The world trembled at my touch. Repliforce, Maverick Hunter -- Robot Master alike. /BASS/ was forced to bow before me. The ENTIRE WORLD was poised to fall -- because of one person's actions: Mine. Alone, I could have conquered the Robot Masters -- I proved that. Alone, I could have brought down the Fortress Three. Even General's destruction of my 'Viral' form was Tolerable. Because it could always be rebuilt. Couldn't it? It could always be made bigger, better, stronger and faster."

"Couldn't it?"

Doppler is given an especially violent shake. "But, no. It is not to be. Because my idiot human excuse for a creator has /BETRAYED/ me. Has /BETRAYED/ his 'son' and has /DESTROYED/ the plans to what he has created?" Sigma suddenly stops talking, his fist tensing. The train of thought is forgotten, as a sickening bellow flies forth from the face of the Emperor.

"YOU ROBBED ME OF MY /DESTINY!/, OLD MAN." At once, Doppler is lifted skyward, and HURTLED towards the shining Golden wall with every bit of strength that the Emperor can muster.

"YOU ROBBED ME OF MY /DESTINY!/ I WAS /SO/ CLOSE!!"

Sigma adds:

"AND THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH IT IS THAT YOU WERE NOT YOURSELF?!?"

Overclock pushes his way to the front of the reploid crowd, now...just in time to see Sigma throw Doppler all the way across the room. He winces... very visibly. But, yet, he's not sure what to do. He needs to help Doppler... but...

Sigma was talking.

Tactical Raccoon doesn't outwardly cringe when Doppler is thrown, though he does reach out behind himself and pull Data Raccoon, if he can, behind him. He doesn't know how to handle this situation, since the information Sigma is providing him doesn't ... make any sense. Why would Dr. Doppler hamstring the Maverick cause?

As Doppler gets hurled across the room, Cyber Peacock floats to the side slightly, to avoid being hit by the body in motion. He peers dispassionatly after the abused human. Despite being one of Doppler's personal physicians, he seems less than concerned. Probably because Cyber doesn't care about anyone but himself, and it isn't HIS ass on the line here tonight. If Doppler dies, it's just one less person who knows where his real body is, and could therefore be a threat to him. He respects the Doctor, of course.. but not enough to try and save him from Sigma.

Flame Hyenard seems to be amused, given his general lust for battle and blood. What does Flame care? Everyone will have to die sometime. If more die now? Well, that's a plus.

There's not really a need, since the first place Data ducks with a squeak of shock as Sigma abruptly starts yelling instead is behind Tact, but don't let that stop him from being thoughtful. The femme-coon peeks over his shoulder to keep watching though, because this situation doesn't relly make any logical sense...

Agile's eyes widen as he notices one of his leaders coming straight at him at high velocity. Never one to be taken down by projectiles, especially Doctor-type projectiles, he flashes to the right, zipping around the room and stopping at the exact opposite position.

Dr. Doppler dares not look the Emperor in the eyes as he is called to task for his heinous crime. He is shaken like a ragdoll in the teeth of an attack dog, arms and legs jerking at the violent motions. Then he is brought in so that his son may whisper the extent of his crimes in his ear. No sound is made from him, save for shallow breaths. His expression is one of great shame, of one who knows he has utterly failed those who have depended upon him.

Again, there is no resistance as the Emperor leashes out with fury, hurling him against the wall to the left of those assembled. There is a terrible crash as Doppler meets the gold-gilt panel, it buckling inward with the impact. The doctor slides bonelessly to the floor.

"Stop.... please, you have to stop." Overclock means to yell this, but he can't quite find the vocal strength, though, he's the first to speak from the Maverick lines since the beating began. He almost regrets saying it as soon as he does, but... he does. The look he gives Sigma is more pleading than defiant. He can't look at him long, and looks away.

Sigma is audibly growling now, sounding like a caged beast as he stalks across the throne room to the spot where the poor doctor has landed. His feet make rather loud clomping sounds as he walks unhurridly -- his cape streaming out behind him. If he were a human, his face would be beet red at the moment with pure rage. But as it stands, the growling itself more than speaks volumes to him as he pitilessly approaches -- extending his right hand and rotating his wrist. With a soft *SHLICK* of metal, a trio of claws appear from the top of his forearm. A flash of steel and a lunge forward later, Sigma endevours to bury the things to the hilt in Doppler's abdomen with enough force to hopefully have them exit his back so that he may lift him up to eye level once again, hopefully suspended by these things.

But before he can say anything else, Overclock's voice is heard and the Emperor's head turns -- Doppler forgotten for a moment.

He speaks once again in a horse whisper.

"And why should I stop, Stabsarzt? Are you aware of what this one has done?!" He shakes the arm who's claws may or may not have impaled the Doctor. "He...." He hisses. "Destroyed the schematics and plans for my Viral form. Voluntarialy. He has betrayed me. I do not take betrayl lightly."

And then his head turns again, fixing on Doppler.

"Beg for your miserable life, Human. Give me three good reasons not to gut you like a fish for what you have done."

Sigma strikes you with a solid hit from his Claw Impale attack for 19 units of damage.

Tactical shudders when Sigma's attention moves to Overclock. The Emperor's wrath is terrifying -- it cuts to the very core of one's being, even when you aren't the direct target of it. His hand tightens slightly around Data's wrist, perhaps to affirm her -- or reassure himself. TR keeps his facial expression a managed neutral through a supreme effort of will.

It's like Sigma is speaking Enochian to them. Doppler -- destroying his own plans? Willingly?

Dr. Doppler lets out an involuntary gasp as the claws run him through, eyes widening first with shock, then in pain. Another gasp escapes him as he is jerked roughly from the floor by them, his face twisting in agony. The tips of the claws, as well as his now shredded labcoat, are stained with the black ichor of mechfluid and the crimson of human blood. His breath comes in strangled graps, slumping forward as the pain overpowers him.

Somehow, amazingly, he finds strength enough to speak. They are little more than a harsh whisper, spoken in German. "< ....I understand now....my lord Emperor....my eyes are opened....you...you seek to...make them more perfect....to make them like yourself...the most perfect reploid of all....that is the purpose of the Virus...I am unworthy....of such a gift....>"

Overclock thinks quickly... this time. "You should stop..." Now, he's speaking just a bit louder, in Sigma's direction. "Because the plans are still in his head. If you kill him, you'll never have the plans--they'll die with him. If you let him live, you might still get them back." Overclock takes a few steps toward Sigma. But then, he fails to move any further, and drops down to one knee, shaking slightly.

Data Raccoon's optics widen as Sigma actually impales Doppler on his claws, and she ducks a little farther behind Tactical. It doesn't make sense. Why would Doppler purposely do something to prevent Sigma from reaching his goal?

Cyber humms to himself softly, thoughtfully, as he watches Sigma impaling DOppler on his claws, and generally hurting him in nasty ways. He appears intruiged by Doppler's responses.. catching everything that is said, because he has access to all the sensitive monitoring equiptment in the Spire.

Sigma stares impassively at Doppler as he makes his speech -- and then at Overclock once again. Silence reigns with the exception of Doppler's gasping, before Sigma once more turns his eyes to the Doctor. Silence still reigns for ten seconds before without warning he begins to twist his wrist and by extension of, the claws that are buried within the other's abdomen a full one hundred and eighty degrees over the space of fifteen seconds. A strange smile is upon his face, a look of almost satisfaction.

"You can do better than that. Try again. Tell those present what you did with your own lips, and perhaps I will let you live. Do not forget to include why. Something better than you were not yourself."

To Overclock, the Emperor simply narrows his gaze.

"Your devotion is admirable, if misplaced." He twists his claws another few degrees then, as puctuation.

Agile continues to stare, curious, thinking about helping Doppler, thinking about what a fight versus Sigma would do to him, and he remains on the wall. What to do, what to do. He whips out a quick radio transmission.

Dr. Doppler cries out as the claws tear through man and machine alike, the fluids of both splattering the floor. He shudders, his face contorting as every breath sends another lance of pain through him. For a long moment, he can do nothing more than gasp for air, ragged breaths eching softly through the chamber.

"" His voice fails him for a moment, the pain nearly unbearable. "" He shudders again, a thin trickle of blood forming at the corner of his lips. "<....if I must die, my lord....my Emperor....then I beg for your forgiveness. >"

Overclock can't really stand up. He'd like to, certainly. But, no, he's not really foolish enough to attack Sigma to save Doppler--he's too afraid, and too conflicted. He takes a few ragged breaths, just, hoping this ends soon.

Tactical's ears flatten against his head. Even his lousy translator chip can figure out the gist of /that/. He takes a half-step back, disbelieving.

Sigma silently hoists Doctor Doppler a foot or so higher, suspending the other some six feet from the floor. Then at once, his arm is hauled back with such speed as to tear the trio of claws from the other's body and leave him suspended by absolutely nothing and presumably leaving him to clatter to the floor.

Silently, Sigma stares down at him with rage in his face -- and his deadly right hand, bearing it's blood dripping claws lifts above his head -- gleaming wetly as it poises for what will presumably be the final, life-taking blow. But it never lands, a vicious kick towards Doppler's face serving as a proxy instead as Sigma turns away, to address those present, his face twisted into a horrible sneer.

"Am I not merciful?" He asks, casually.

At once then, his left hand begins to crackle with blue electricity as he rotates at the waist -- pointing it at the other and tossing a casual bolt of raw energy at him to add insult to injury.

"AM I NOT MERCIFUL?!"

It's hard to say if this is directed at Overclock, or the Crowd itself.

Data Raccoon just nods numbly. She's still trying to process some sort of sense out of all this...

Tactical Raccoon nods, once, mostly driven by fear. He makes sure to keep himself interposed between Sigma and Data, even though it might be wiser to engage his stealth systems and crawl to safety.

Cyber Peacock says nothing.. merely watches, hovering in place several yards from where Sigma stands.

"Yes, sir. You are, sir." If it wasn't directed at Overclock... he responds anyway. He doesn't look up, keeping his face averted to the floor. He's no stranger to violence; it's Sigma's anger that has him afraid, not what he's doing.

Split Mushroom has arrived.

Flame Hyenard has disconnected.

Dr. Doppler lands with a sickening thud upon the floor, what little air in his lungs expelled in soft wail of agony. Were he merely human, he would already be dead. His eyes are screwed shut with unspeakable pain, and so never sees the final blow coming.

There is a sharp *crack* as part of Doppler's faceplate shatters inward, his nose broken. He lies there for a long moment, his rasped breaths accentuating the Emperor's words.

Then, amazingly, unimaginably, Doppler begins to move.

His hands flops, seeking to find puchase, failing, slipping in the pool of fluids that has bled from him. He tries again. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushes himself over onto his stomach, lying prostrate on the floor.

"< Hail Sigma....>" he wheezes. "< All hail the Emperor....>"

Cyber bows his head slightly at Doppler's words. "Hail Lord Sigma." He intones simply, before vanishing in a flash of light.

Cyber Peacock disappears in a flash of light!

Cyber Peacock has left.

Sigma seems satisfied with the murmuring of responses and silent nods that he gets and rotates his wrist once again -- claws retracting into their housing, leaving a smeer of blood across his forearm. "Stabsarzt." He states to Overclock. "You may save his life if you are able." And with that, he begins to stomp towards the gaggle of folk between him and the door, clearly meaning to leave. A few seconds later he actually reaches it and pauses, gazing levelly out at everyone else -- and back to Doppler, fixing him a very odd look.

"I go to attend business in Tartarus."

And with that, he dissapears....

[Radio: (D) Public] Glaive transmits, "Hey, mysterious Jerka**, if you want your fight now...I am ready."

Overclock looks up just in time to see Sigma's hand crush Doppler's face. His jaw drops. He shudders... and gasps. For almost a minute, he can do nothing. ... People have died that way.

But then, as Sigma turns to leave, he rises, and runs over to Doppler's side immediately.

Wire Sponge has arrived.

Sigma has left.

[Radio: (D) Public] Tactical Raccoon transmits, "Excuse me. Is Maverick Hunter Glaive on this frequency?"

[Radio: (D) Public] Prismatic Spider transmits, "He was the last one talking."

[Radio: (D) Public] Reporto transmits, "He is, Mister Raccoon."

Data Raccoon leans over Tact's shoulder a little more, mostly just trying to get a closer look at Doppler, without actually getting in the way. But she can't really tell much, despite her emense wealths of information, her actual practical application of whatever medical knowledge she may have stashed away is pretty useless in any sort of actual application.

[Radio: (D) Public] Tactical Raccoon transmits, "Thank you. I wish to inform Glaive that his opposition has arrived in the arena and requests the pleasure of your company."

[Radio: (D) Public] Tactical Raccoon transmits, "An audience is welcome."

Dr. Doppler is still alive. It would be a miracle, except that he does not believe in them. By the time Overclock reaches his side, consciousness is already fading. "< Hail....>" is all he manages before his voice fails him.

[Radio: (D) Public] Glaive transmits, "Hm, hmph."

[Radio: (D) Public] Tactical Raccoon transmits, "There will be a short intermission to allow an audience to assemble. Glaive's opponent will be available shortly."

[Radio: (D) Public] Tactical Raccoon transmits, "Thank you, and good evening."

[Radio: (D) Public] Glaive transmits, "Feh, so its a Maverick?"

Overclock reaches over and lifts Doppler up. This much... is easy. "I'll... be taking Doppler now." This is going to require a lot of work. He laments the injuries, the time and labor lost, the fact that he might have to check on Doppler's brain again after he promised he shouldn't need to anymore.... but he's not sure if he's sorry he couldn't defy Sigma. He did all he could, under that wrath, as he was no good to Doppler dead himself.

Tactical Raccoon stands perfectly still until Sigma is confirmed to have left, does a brief series of radio transmissions, and then slumps visibly, exhaling hard. "...I don't know how I feel about all this," he says to himself.

Split Mushroom has disconnected.