CHAPTER 40: Violet Tuxedo

"Fuck this shit! I know your friend can hear me through that radio device! Why do you want this chaos?! " Chandler screeched in a rash, cracked voice. Alex had no answer. He was not the one who pulled the trigger. Holts… just how much of you remains after Frilo's death? Then again, Alex would've pulled the trigger too, and kept on shooting. But this situation was in Alex's favor.

"Shut up and fight." Alex said. A second round of fabric exploded out from Alex's neck, drifting softly in the wind before gradually waving around Alex. Winding his body low to the ground in an instant, he used Alwin's spring technique to get mere inches from Chandler's face. Chandler saw the blurred movement and became sick with memories. This bastard! He stole Alwin's lifeblood! All Alwin had worked for, dreamed for, and fought for went into that technique. He trained countless hours to perfect it. All for that speed. Yet here was this brat, making a mockery of it. Slow, sloppy, and humiliating. Gashes emerged through Alex's shield as two of the serpents ran through his side and leg with unfair speed. An explosion of blood erupted around Alex as the snakes coiled around him and ripped him into slices. This was the power Frilo succumbed to. The third snake… It didn't have jaws like the others. Instead, its face was made into the crescent-shaped device that broke his shield before. The third had hammered into his waist some moments ago, yet Alex had failed to realize. Was it a certain wavelength that disrupted the shield? As Alex's pieces fell to the ground, Diamondback grinned hauntingly with his pearly fangs exposed. One of the serpents snatched the coin from the free-falling decapitated hand with its jaws and delivered the coin into his own. Just as he did that, half of Alex's skull gazed at the victor with one glossy eye. What a lack of attention to detail. To think that he won, to think that he claimed victory over him. The crystalline star on the back of his neck shined and pulsed, emitting the opposite frequency as the machine. Within an instant, materializing from the diluted particles in the air, the shield flaked together as the human chunks stayed in stasis between the forming patches of the translucent fabric. To Diamondback's unsuppressed terror, his enemy amalgamated and spilt blood flowed back into his veins. Alex's face pieced together with a self-satisfied, half-psychotic grin outmatching Chandler's previous before his armor patched up to conceal it. Chandler's teeth clinked together as he shot the three constructs forward again. The two jaws of life clamped down on Alex's encased arms as the shield jammer was thrust into his stomach once more. Only this time, nothing occurred. The shield remained strong and tight. Infuriated, Diamondback molded his third construct into a strange weapon shape. A railgun!? Alex had only a second to determine what the weapon even was before a solid chunk of metal barreled into his face. Alex's head was knocked back and whiplashed by the impact. Even amongst railguns, this device was a monster. The ammunition split off behind Alex, indifferently tearing through buildings and people in its path. Two massive skyscrapers collapsed in the distant background, as Diamondback focused in. A new challenge presented itself, what innovation could he possibly think up? Come on Chandler, it's time to build! The possibilities excited him. This was the pressure he needed to get his creativeness flowing! Now, what other exciting things did this man in silver and orange put on the table?

"I'll be able to crack that shell, sooner or later!"

The snakes melted into thick woven chains that penetrated the earth, forming roots deep within. Alex grunted as they pulled him closer and closer to the ground while the shiny metal was spiraling tighter into his wrists and spreading up his arms. Light poked through the living cuffs, only to be snuffed out into darkness. The third construct flew to the back of Alex's neck, sensing the opposing wavelength radiating. To domed around the device, creating an echo chamber that jammed the signal. Alex remained grinning behind his mask as he saw the miniature scale-like pieces assemble into a checkered dome encircling him. With a cataclysmic crash, the dome condensed and glowed with immense amounts of energy. Blasting Alex with extreme amounts of high-penetrating radiation was sure to slip past that thin coating and rip through the very molecules that he was composed of. Light blistered and welted the concrete around it, heat cracks crackling and popping into existence around the area of the dome. Screaming could be heard inside of the dome. Chandler observed his invention carefully, seeing if it had passed or failed. The scales warped and bent as a burst of pressure was released from the superheated interior. The scales melted down as they squirmed to reform, but were unable to. Out of the molten mound, something rose. The metal exploded off of Alex as his screams shook the air. He collapsed to his knees, a charcoal corpse puppet that was blackened to the bone. The armor had melted completely off his skin, leaving only the black of his carbon body and the white nerve channels that lied exposed peeking through into open air. As his body deteriorated, his shield remained standing and the remains and fumes of what was once Alex remained trapped. Massive amounts of heat discharged from the fabric, causing Chandler to flinch and retreat. As Chandler squinted towards the corner of a building, his leg came undone by another one of Holts' bullets. Holts was laying in his prone position atop a neighboring building, his finger laying on the trigger. His teeth were locked tight as he took more deep breaths. It was hard to use his adrenaline when he felt overwhelmed like this. He couldn't tone down his stress levels enough before diminishing his performance. The Goldilocks zone was just within reach, Holts could almost feel it. Time for another. Breathe, and then hold. Pad of your finger centered on the trigger. Ease into the trigger, no sudden pulling or jerking. That is only the basics of how to get a perfect shot. The bullet soared through the sky, making its way down the street, past the buildings, and straight to Chandler's left chest. Center mass, that's your best bet at hitting a target that can move at mach speeds. The bullet chased its way to Diamondback's heart. Chandler was knocked to the ground. Hit! Holts relieved himself from holding his breath, with a hawk's eye still trained on target. That fucker better not move.

Chandler lied there in disbelief as the air slowly scorched his face and hair. With a trembling hand, he reached into his chest pocket to see a peculiar sight. Two coins, Alwin's and his own, lined up with a bullet bending them in. He gazed at the coins, their zelstone and gold plating cracked and its inner filling metal stretched around the huge scrap of deadly metal. Alwin's warm and curious smile as he saw this coin for the first time burned in his memory. They were the only two that remained standing on that day, the day of choosing for all of those elites who wanted the title of "Plague" after some of the old ones died in the last World War. To be a Plague, to be Ethiopia's strongest. That's what it took to help them. While some saw the Diamondback as a menace, many who encountered the great diamond-wielding snake knew that he and his hyperactive companion were saviors to those not so well off in the country of Ethiopia. While his comrades lurked and leveled cities around the world, he raised them. He went to the ashes, junkyards, and the slums, raising them into cities and fortresses taller than any have seen before. To turn trash into treasure, that was his primary assignment from the Tyrant Phoenix himself. After an apprenticeship under the Red Empress, Arewara, he had become one with the nature of design and efficiency. But what would these buildings accomplish? Anything. Everything. From TA Headquarters to barracks to the mysterious budding outposts dotting the countries around the world, Chandler was responsible for designing structures worthy of the TA name. But what he liked most about his job was creating places that he knew would take in the homeless, addicted, and despaired. Tangente "snatched" such people off the streets, offering them a new life and a black chalice. If they survived and passed the initiation training, they could live life as a TA member. Their expenses were paid for, as long as they did their job in accordance with Tangente and Arewara's standards. Quite the opportunity, to make a deal with a devil disguised as a phoenix. That's why he kept standing. To turn this wasteland into a paradise with his own hands and Tangente's help. Alwin wanted to help out, too. But these men posed a threat. The Brotherhood and their allies, they wanted nothing more than to destroy that realization. To destroy Tangente, Arewara, LeRoy, the Worstons, Julia, Alwin. Alwin… He was like a little brother to him. The Brotherhood were his enemies. It was time to show them the art he had learned from the late man named Frilo Jacques and the biomechanical marvels he once witnessed from watching the Peacemaker of the Trifecta and Midnight.

The molten silver shaped back into its diamonds as they shied away from the heat shield, which was now formed into an ovoid. They rushed around Chandler and plated to his skin. The expression on his face changed as he knew what was to come. As his own technology started to penetrate his skin, his breathing became wheezed and labored. Blood had been flooding out of his leg too long, a steady-growing pool creating small streams on the concrete below him. This was the only way. He was forced to undergo the infamous transfiguration. Or he would die in only a few seconds. He could only pray to god. Please, give me the power to crush them. To annihilate all of them before they do any more damage. Please, give me power akin to Tangente or the Trifecta. He would give everything, now that there was nothing to lose. Certainly, as his body rapidly mutated he could use his observations of Midnight's Enigma and Peacemaker's body in order to create a perfect hybrid body of man and machine. This was not an attempt to create a cyborg, no. This would be a perfect integration of two sides of the same coin. This was an attempt to create something only seen once before on this earth. With Arewara's knowledge, he could complete this transformation. His mind! Stay together! Pain blurred his consciousness, as body and body went out of sync. He felt his brain trapped inside his skull as his body underwent the trial and error of highly-perilous experimentation. His inner workings… were being ripped to shreds and reconfigured. Then, it was time for his brain to do the same. A blackout, followed by a new start. Art, as Frilo had once described it, was the ability to create something new and fresh from something that was already there. The Plagues. They were warned only to use this joker card only in their final moments, as the change would likely kill them. As it did with Alwin. And he had gone beyond, infusing his invention within himself while undergoing transfiguration to allow the black cells to devour the micro-machines and utilize them. Black cells, specialized cells lying dormant in every special type's blood that allows for such a transformation to take place. They capture your last desire. A death wish, as some like to call it, and sacrifice themselves to make that wish a reality. You always get your wish, but whether your form is sustainable is another story. Alwin's metabolism and blood pressure skyrocketed and became too much for even his new body to handle. Thus his orifices overflowed with blood after the first step-off that ruptured that great vault's wall. He achieved the speed he desired, but could not survive the consequences of such a power. But Chandler would survive. For Alwin. For his passion. For himself. Make this body a fortress, and he would utilize it to the best of his ability as one of the apprentices of Arewara. As Chandler's hearing returned to his ears, he heard air whistling as it swept through the passageways into the deepest branches of his lungs. The whistling died down as his body adjusted himself. As he stood up, His hands felt gently around his face. Cold, metal lines were inscribed in his face, a new touch to this refined body. He had survived the initial phase of transfiguration. Now it was time to test it. Deep in his subconscious, a new set of instincts lied, awaiting permeation into his thoughts and movements. His [Founder's Constructs] were now one with him, and formed a new combat suit around him. Under every single blackened glossy scale glowed an aurora full of a spectrum of yellows. Out of the silver markings on his cheeks sprouted brilliant thorns of white silver that began to take a more mechanical shape and surround his entire head, thin lines of yellow aurora peeking out from the enveloping helmet, a golden razor-thin visor becoming his eyes. A checkered mane of long shiny black and silver spikes grew like fur around his coat's collar. The outfit's coat now extended to the ground, the bottom was serrated by the diamond pattern and was now rimmed with a soft light golden fabric that shimmered as Diamondback moved. What once was dull metal became a plethora of dazzling colors. He walked towards the bearer of flames unflinching as the area turned into a hellscape of vibrant red and orange. However, this body alone was not enough to survive the harsh hellfire of the one created to slay Midnight. Even with the transfiguration, the elements he stored within his body and constructs were not strong enough to resist the pelting heat. Yet, if he had some of Alex's mystery fabric… Diamondback scoured the ground for small pieces of the miracle fabric left as debris from the shield's first implosion. There! There, there, there, and there! One by one, Diamondback's mini-constructs separated themselves as drones to secure the scrapes quickly without too much damage. As Diamondback absorbed the scrapes, he began to analyze them from within his body. Just as expected, a new element. An alien element. The subatomic design of the particle was clearly synthetic, made intentionally by sentient life. Its structure was so complex, no human technology to date could replicate it. It would be wise to keep these pieces safe. Quickly, little ones, salvage enough to take on this demon that was so similar to the phoenix. As the last piece absorbed into him, the glowing hue that projected under his armored diamond scales changed to a yellow-orange. The material had been synthesized, it was time to fight the ash-colored corpse that remained mummified on its knees with a crazed smile on its face. Chandler wondered, had the device gone haywire? Though the human controlling the device seemed to be gone, the device kept ongoing, to the point that the buildings were melting and people inside and outside were being cooked to death with waves of vicious heat as soon as the beams came through windows and burnt through the weaker, flammable walls of some buildings. What a terrible sight. Then again, he had collapsed those two buildings with his railgun not too long ago, though it was not his intention. As he raced towards the source to stop it, he swung his fist back. Though it looked like a normal draw backwards, Chandler was using his skills to imitate something much stronger. His constructs were quickly forming and shaping inside his fist, creating contraptions charging back immense elastic energy. He had seen this terrible punch only once before, when the Peacemaker performed it in a remote forest as a demonstration for a squadron of newly-graduated TA soldiers, a display of power and authority aimed at anyone thinking selfishly enough to break the core rules that were the pillars upholding the TA's stability. Now, witness the half-accomplished power derived from one of the world's strongest beings. Behold, a taste, a drop of the terror wielded by one of Tangente's infamous Trifecta. Behold, the [Magnum Rise]. As Diamondback's fist catapulted through the air, white-hot plasma collected in front of his fist as the air pressurized into a blinding light that flooded the atmosphere with chaos. Those who had survived Alex's heatwave were now shocked in fear of the sparkling glow. But it was too late. One cannot outrun a nuclear weapon. A child watched as his home and block disintegrated as the great white flash ate stone and man alike in its unforgiving grasp. He saw as his mother started to reach to cover him as the white blast tore through them. Everything was white. Had he and his mother died? Why was it so hot? Whiteness dispersed as a strange man stood in front of the two, facing ground zero. The brown-haired man turned his head to face them, a benign smile on his face. They were still in the same place, they hadn't moved. With a hand outstretched, like parting the red sea, he was diverting the blast? With an elegant wave of his hand, the blast dispersed like a candlelight.

"Are you two OK?" The mysterious man in a violet tuxedo said. The boy looked up at his mother. She was trembling and wide-eyed with shock. She collapsed to her butt, using her hands to hold her upper body up. She looked up half-horrified at the man.

"Who are you?" She shakingly muttered. The man looked like he was about to laugh lightheartedly.

"Who am I? Hmmm… very good question! I guess… I'm your guardian angel!" The man larked. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got business to take care of! Hurry up and run off! Stay safe!" The man turned back to face Diamondback, his smile fading. Diamondback stood mortified at this strange man. He had noticed instantly. This man was the only thing standing from that blast! Even the corpse and its shield were blown away! So how could this man- Chandler's thoughts were cut off as the man began to walk forward. How was he so intimidating!? His instincts were repulsed by this man, he reeked of danger. And why was he only walking?

Why run when you cannot escape? An unknown voice entered Chandler's head. Telepathy?

"What are you?" Chandler's voice broke out from behind his mask. A hint of anger flinched on the figure's face.

"No. What are YOU doing?! Do you know how many more lives would've been lost had I not stopped whatever the hell that was the first block out? GET OUT OF YOUR OWN HEAD! Look at what's in front of you, Chandler Praze! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Chandler looked out at the surrounding holocaust. What used to be a maze of flourishing small family buildings was now a flat plane of ash and grey. Not even rubble remained. The mother and her child, he had just killed several hundred more like them. This was a busy suburb right by a city. He grasped his heart as guilt, like boulders, crushed him into a kneel.

"I-I got carried away! It doesn't matter anyway, as long as their deaths were pain-" A flash of Alwin crying over his mother's hands flashed in his mind. His hands covered his helmet, his fingers gripping around his face as he screeched, desperately pining to remove the mask. The metal only reformed as he peeled layer by layer away at the creature imprisoning him. Himself. He wanted to take off this damned suit, yet it protected him. From the man in the violet tuxedo, his paces advancing slowly, the man's face unchanging. As the man reached halfway, he opened his hand as if he were about to grab something. Like some kind of unnatural phenomena, roots ascended from the ground and twisted around in a long, thin swirl. As the man grabbed the root, he dragged the long staff-like apparatus out of the concrete to reveal a great long silver scythe suspended by the handle of strong roots. He plowed its blade through the concrete like a hoe tilling a field. Chandler recalled what the man had said to the child. A guardian angel.

"A-are you really…" Chandler said. This man used forces unlike any he had ever seen. He had even said Chandler's name, his full name. Something he never told anyone besides Alwin! The man ignored him.

"It's always with the excuses! How many lives will your pride take next? I cannot let someone like you walk about!"

"Why are you punishing me? The man in the pure silver suit with the orange hued-fabric around incinerated most of them before I-I killed him!"

"And yet still, you killed everyone else. Where is your resolve to keep that promise you swore to Alwin?"

Chandler became distraught. How the hell did he know that? He sneered behind his mask.

"Stay away from me, you Devil! What could you possibly want with me?! Stop! Stop!"

"What I want?! I want you dead, Chandler. Your charity work only masks the events that allowed you to get there. You haven't changed as much as you think, Chandler, if you're willing to do this rather than rack that mind of yours for something better. You called it a last-ditch effort, I call it laziness. You wanted to mimic the power of the most destructive force in the TA. And you thought of it as innovation… how disgust-"

"SHUT UP! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME? YOU'RE A FUCKING STRANGER! YOU DON'T KNOW ME. I CHOOSE TRANSFIGURATION BECAUSE I WAS- I WAS SCARED. I CHOSE TO END IT THIS WAY BECAUSE I MISSED HIM. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITHOUT HIM? I CALLED IT MY LAST RESORT, BUT IT WAS MY OWN DAMN SELFISHNESS. I WANTED TO DIE! I CONVINCED MYSELF THAT IF I GAVE THE EFFORT TO TRANSFIGURE, I COULD AT LEAST SAY I TRIED TO DO SOMETHING FOR SOMEONE OTHER THAN MYSELF! WHEN I WOKE UP ALIVE, PART OF ME CURSED MYSELF FOR STILL BEING HERE IN THIS DAMNED HELLHOLE! HOW AM I STILL ALIVE FROM USING THAT DAMNED PUNCH?! I THOUGHT THAT WOULD END UP KILLING ME TOO! IF ONLY I HADN'T ABSORBED THAT DAMNED FABRIC! THEN, I COULD AT LEAST CLAIM VENGEANCE ON THAT RAT FRILO AND HIS FRIENDS WHILE MY BODY GAVE OUT. WHY CAN'T I JUST DIE?!? GO AHEAD, SINK THAT SCYTHE IN ME! I DON'T CARE. YOU'D BE DOING ME A FAVOR, YOU DAMNED ABOMINATION! KILL ME! LET ME DIE, I-I HATE MYSELF!-"

The man charged back his scythe, and in a flash, its inner blade was hovering behind the back of Chandler's neck, the only things stopping it from cutting clean through Chandler were his two shaking forearms that had been subconsciously fortified. Chandler's mask finally retracted as tears gushed down his furrowed face. He couldn't even find the resolve to let himself die. He was still as terrible as that night long ago. Then let himself wallow in his terribleness, and live it to the bitter end. A war cry sounded out of Diamondback Chandler as a segmented snake tail's whip lashed out and around the scythe as Diamondback let out another imitated [Magnum Rise], one that froze in its tracks as some unnatural force anchored his fist. Finally, Chandler realized what this phenomenon was. Anti-gravity, of course! This man was no supernatural being, after all. However, he could somehow get inside your head, and peer into memories and thoughts, it seemed. But he could only read them at the conscious level, nothing deeper. Autonomous reflexes must be beyond his realm of sight. This new ability he had learned was new to him. He still had to think about it before acting. But if he used techniques much more natural to him…

"So you've picked out my weakness, eh? Don't think that means you've won." the man said, his eyes glinting a spectral violet from his usual dark brown. His eyes had also glowed like that when he "summoned" the tree roots, and a strange band of markings lit up in his irises. When exactly did they glow, and could he use this to his advantage?

"No cheating." The man's eyes glinted brighter as Diamondback was picked up into the air slammed into the ground with tremendous energy. The translucent white jet-flame-like light appeared above Chandler as he was compressed into the heat-cracked concrete, breaking through it and planting him deeper and deeper into the earth. This continued until the hole showed only darkness. With the twist and closing of the man's fingers, the half-mile deep hole collapsed in on itself, burying Chandler alive. The man looked at the hole and waited. Out of nowhere, the ground beneath the man sunk down as a sharp silver tip escaped the ground. This small tip turned large as a massive drill burst from the ground and into the air, following the man, who was suspended from his last-second jump backwards. The drill transformed faster than the eye could see into five tendrils speed towards the man. As if the air was water, the man spiraled around the five shots, moving much more elegantly than even Chandler could do with his Constructs. The five tendrils swung down with a heavy momentum, but the man danced around those, too. Was this man even taking him seriously? Chandler could not contain his frustration as he thrashed the tendrils rampantly, bashing through the ground and spraying chunks with every hit. Yet the man now seemed amused, a total shift in what it had just been a few seconds ago.

"Now you're just being ridiculous! Your body can level its emotions, correct? This can't be Chandler Praze, the Diamondback! Is this all the Seven Plagues of Ethiopia have to offer? Hardly worth the title! Now, with the child and parent completely out of the way, It's time for some real fun!"