The streets of Religion Row were stained with bloody scorch marks, leading in a gruesome trail through the maze of temples and shrines. The stains seemed to lessen the further the trail was followed, and the last splotch of blood led to the steps of the Vatican.

The door of St. Peter's Cathedral had been knocked open and inside, the cavernous chapel seemed empty. This place still showed signs of the last battle here, the struggle against many of Veronica's relatives and the innocent people they had infected.

Deep within the chapel, he lurked.

His heavy footsteps were obvious, but the echo made it impossible to tell where he was. Heavy breathing, edged by growls, was audible from the somewhere in the darkness.

He heard them approaching, and he waited.

[PLOT POST HERE. Read it!]

As quickly as it had begun, the Tyrant's rampage down in the City was over. He was last seen disappearing into the alleys around Religion Row, where any pursuers were thrown off in the maze of temples and shrines. It was probably better they leave him alone in any case... seeing what had happened to those who didn't.

It had been a few hours. The City was once again quiet, dotted by small areas of destruction and trails of blood where the Tyrant had brawled with crew members. The injured had been gathered and shipped to the Outsider's hotel until they could be moved to medical proper. And though the situation was not over, it was safe enough to go down, survey the damage and start cleaning up.

...Maybe.



A few blocks from the hotel, something was quietly growing in the darkness of a rubble pile.

Beastboy had to admit, it was kind of difficult to stay indoors at a time like this.

But he had his orders, to keep the Outsider's hotel open for refuge from the Tyrant and keep it safe should he stumble in their direction. As much as his hero instincts begged him to run out there and look for a fight he stood his ground in the front entrance way of the hotel scanning the street for people.

Every now and then he'd turn into a bird and circle the building watching and listening for trouble, the city was alive with it today and he just knew with their luck it wouldn't be long before trouble found it's way to their front door.

Luis owed him big for this.

Kang had had very little experience dealing with human children before, and all but one of those times had involved him and/or his regiment killing them, during the war. And Sherry, he knew, was frightened of him; he couldn't really blame her for that. He knew how intimidating he looked to other races.

Hopefully this wouldn't be as awkward as he was expecting. He had his sword and his battle-axe on him, just in case, as he moved through the City, paying close attention to his surroundings. As he got closer to where Sherry had said she'd be, he put said battle-axe back in the harness between his wings so as to not alarm her, "Sherry? It's Kang."

[ooc: PLOT POST IS HERE! Read it!]

He stalked through the hallways like a shadow, moving too quickly for anyone to keep a bead on him for long. There almost seemed to be a purpose in his movement as he made his way through the dark corridors of the ship, though it was impossible to tell where he was headed. Perhaps the young man whose body had been hijacked was exerting some kind of control, or perhaps Veronica was doing the driving.

Whatever the case, the Tyrant made his way to the City.

He emerged from the tunnels and into the wide open space, at last free of the cramped hallway. He took a few steps into the streets and sniffed the air, smelling human blood. He roared, a horrible and twisted noise, then headed into the streets.

She demanded they all bow to her. They were little more than prey for the Queen in the grand scale of things. These thoughts rang hollow in a primal mind, though, but he knew what he had to do.

They would all die.

[OOC: FURIOUS MUNCEST ALERT. This log is the precursor to THE STEVENING, which starts tomorrow! More details will be up later this evening.]

Veronica was getting worse, slowly tightening its grip on Steve's body to the point where he was only coherent half the time. He still felt like he was fighting through a hazy fog, and clear thoughts were hard to come by. The fever was rolling off him in waves of heat and he looked like hell, pale and sweating and clearly sick.

There was one hope, a treatment the Science staff had come up with. It wasn't a cure, but if it worked, it would effectively neutralize the virus to the point where it wouldn't be a concern anymore. It had been tested. It had been simulated. It had been run on a virtual him a hundred times and each time, it turned out.

That was, understandably, not enough to make him feel comfortable with the idea.

From the moment he laid down and they strapped his wrists down (for safety) he was shaking like a leaf... though that also might have been the fever kicking itself up again. He closed his eyes and tried not to listen to Luis shuffling around and preparing in the background.

What's the worst that could happen? he kept reminding himself. I die?

Like I've never done that before.