Scene #4866: ...come to an end

Owner	Pose
Benediction	All was quiet in the Citadel, and not a creature was stirring....not even a mouse. Well, no, that's a lie, quite a few people were stirring and moving about, but it still was a relatively calm time in the seat of Confederate power. That was about to change. It was slight, at first. Some people might've noticed a small hairline crack here and there, and attributed it to just maintainance not doing their job. Unfortunately, it seemed that the cracks had gone through the walls and straight into...empty space. Lines were spreading through the Citadel, spiderweb fractures wherein reality had just up and decided that it was going to be split. For the adventerous or unlucky individuals that decided to stick their hand straight into one, side effects ranged from 'nothing' to 'being suddenly and violently disconnected from whatever appendage they had decided to stick in the part where reality broke.' The most worrying thing was that they were spreading. Rapidly. And that if one listened closely, there seemed to be a great rumbling sigh coming from the Citadel itself, as if the stress was slowly taking its toll on the structure. Still, nothing had /totally/ broken yet; maybe it would just be a phase that the Citadel would soon pass through? Or maybe it was a forboding sign of the times to come.
Dr. Vahzilok	A bald man in a surgical mask and scrubs was approaching the Citadel, having communicated his intent to join Confederate forces, and in the process of being escorted inside, when everything started to happen. He was appraising the facilities, the chemical stink of the materials he uses in his 'work' hanging around him like a cloud, though less so than if he'd come dressed in his 'business attire'. But as cracks start to spread throughout the facility, Dr. Vahzilok frowns and stops. The sight of people losing appendages to the fissures is enough to have him arch an eyebrow and ask, "Shouldn't someone be doing something about that?" But then there's a rumbling, signalling structural integrity deficiencies of some kind, and the mad doctor wishes he'd come in his flesh golem armor after all.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast was off meditating in the citadel when he felt and saw the cracks forming. "What in Tzeench's name?" He asks, immidiately grabbing up his staff. Thankfully, he was alone here, his warband off 'recruiting'. He then began heading towards where his fellow elites were most likely gathering.
Medusa Gorgon	As if she didn't have enough to do... The moment the cracks had begun to appear, the witch in charge of Ward 17 had been busy going over various documents overseeing her latest medical creation. Just something to pass time between treatments given to the patients. That focus was turned elsewhere as her coffee mug was swallowed into empty space, leaving Medusa to simply stare. Well... this certainly made the day less boring, to say the least. It doesn't take long for her to bark orders at her underlings, the nurses and orderlies of the medical ward, and soon enough the patients are quickly brought out on stretchers, beds are rolled out, and patients who can walk? They are quickly ushered along. While she appears to be calm, there is a fierce look to Medusa's eyes as she barks orders. "Don't take the elevators! Don't touch those anomalies, and leave the resources behind!" It's easy enough to create more, after all. Though she's glad she kept most of her important research in her own lair instead of at the Citadel.
Copy Rock	Rested near a wall, a thick cable extending from a open panel in his chest to a socket in the wall. He peered down, watching a light gauge fill. It had just now bouyed into the green. The power coupling deattached itself from the wall and withdrew back into his chest, sinking flush into his body before he closed the panel with a faint click. It was then he noticed... a rift? A crack? "What in the...-!?" curiosity almost cost him a hand, instead of his limb he was lucky enough to have tried a pole! When it fell prey to the strange doings of reality, he came to the decision that it was time to leave!
Psalm	Ebberon is... well, it's stressing. In the coming weeks and months, it's going to be clear that some Shit Done Got Broke. There's rumbles and shudders going across the entire Prime, Paradoxes and Inclusions and Incursions starting to pop up across the realm. It will be a prime time for Adventurers to do their thing. But Miss Magatha is already on the move to the Citadel. Or she's been trying to. Her usual entrances from the Denieth Tower are on the fritz, and she's frowning at her scrying orbs. "Bother and damn. This stupid..." She's shaking her gate and the keys she uses for it, as if the percussive maintainence would help Do A Thing. A moment to fiddle with her radio runes. as she tries to raise some help.
Tesla Armadia	One such 'crack' in a wall not far from the R&D labs had gotten attention alright, primarily of three of the cat-like gremlins that Tesla Armadia used as labor minions, because maintenance was suppose to be one of their jobs. They had already tried spray-foaming the split, but it only seemed to suck up the sealen into nothingness, and split open wider. The three of them bicker back and forth in their gibberish language. Then one finally hmphs, rolls up non-existant sleeves, and walks over. Sticks its head into the widening crack. It's followed by a screech and a few moments of thrashing, and then dead still. To the point that the body falls backwards, completely headless. No splatter of gibs, no orange tang of squashed brains. Just a clean nothing from the neck up. It isn't even bleeding as it collapses. The other two gremlynx unsurprisingly freak out, shreaking and yowling as they run in circles around the headless corpse. Until they collide into each other and collapse. ******** Deep within the Citadel's hangers, Tesla Armadia stood on the bridge of her recently refurbished airship. Recent as in all the work had not been finished yet, although it was at functional levels. She merely look up as the multitude of viewscreens flared to life with various reports on the 'cracks in space' as the maintenance crews were calling it. One screen even shows the collapsed minions, which gets a groan out of her. Good thing they were disosable clones. Her expression otherwise remained in its typical neutrality other than a faint scowl. "Computer, begin Omega protocol prep. I want all of R&D down here, ASAP. Forget materials. Files and knowledgable individuals are more important." She never expected this day would come in her time... But that did not mean she hadn't made contingencies for it.
Laer	Laer had been busy catching up on paperwork and reports in her office. She had, more specifically, been wishing she didn't have quite so much paperwork to do. As such, when a crack had started running through her office, she'd been ready to bring the full force of her power within the confederacy down on whichever maintenance person had screwed this particular pooch. The main problem, of course, is that as soon as she goes to report it she'll run across all the other reports of things going on. This is going to get her to start doing the mature, responsible thing, as a high-ranking confederate officer. Once she's finished firing off a scathing note regarding maintenance, one that will probably never actually be read by anyone, she's going to start attempting to transfer any intellegence files, resources, or funds she can manage from her office to the best place to hold them while the citadel is in disrepair: Her own syndicate accounts, on Afterus. Once they're out, if need be, she can return them. And if need not be, well, she'll have a good start on the next adventure. This is all while she eyes the crack in the wall; she's getting ready to portal as far away as she can if things start to spread or once her computer access gets revoked from the citadel's breakdown or from someone above her Colonel rank catching on to all the shit she's technically stealing.
Raine Arland	It was supposed to be a routine docking at The Citadel. Get in, resupply the ship, see what's going on, any new jobs to take on, and then get out. The usual, really. What he wasn't expecting to see was a literal crack seeming to form in reality. "...Hah?" He blinks, squint his green and red eyes as he sees something peculiar nearby. "...Hey. Hey Fragarach, you see that?" He asks to the air beside him. The air shimmers, and then a ghostly existence appears floating by the black clad man. With oversized sleeves, impossibly long white hair, and a long, writhing tail. She brings a covered hand up to her cheek, blue and black gaze regarding the growing crack. "......." Silence followed. For several long moments. And then she simply says, "Get out. Now." "Eh?" And then it got worse. Growing and spreading through the Citadel like a plague. "What the hell--! Shit, gotta get outta.... Damn wait." Raine growls, realizing something. "People. There are people here. God damn it." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he starts up his ships engines. While doing so, he opens up the lower hangar doors, leading out into the Citadel proper. "May as well take some damn evacuees before I get the hell out."
Wo	Not a frequent sight within the Citadel, the Wo-class carrier's reasons for being here are entirely business and contacts related. Primarily, to insure through her connections that she still would have a place within the Confederacy, should she split from the mainstream of her kind. Her future plans still depend on having the safety net of her Fed allies to fall back on, no matter how things turn out. It's with this in mind that she moves takes her leave from a private meeting room, joining the pacing throngs of other Elites and support personnel that form the lifeblood of the facility. For many moments after, even after those minute fractures begin to appear, no one within her immediate vicinity, including her, seems to pay it any mind. Slight imperfections are nothing to be concerned about, especially in a facility with as complicated logistics as this. It soon becomes obvious that the damage is not localized, however, and is in fact spreading and worsening; that is when, while not quite a panic, the previously orderly foot traffic stalls and begins to mumble amongst themselves. The humanoid ship is not one to participate in such things, but does stop, herself, to more closely examine one of the widening cracks. It's still difficult to see, but only the void stares back. The groaning and grumbling of failing structure is far more worrisome than the yet cosmetic fracturing, however, and is one she's unfortunately familiar with. Okay, now the crowds truly have free license to panic, if that's what they wish to do. Wo, herself, is a relatively cool customer. Whatever is happening, it's becoming increasingly obvious that the Citadel itself is going to suffer a significant collapse, if not an entire one. "Head for, the exits and e-vacuate," she directs, to anyone that will listen. Her normal monotone takes on a distinct edge, as she tails the group, that thankfully doesn't stampede as they don't have to be told twice. Her own pace is slightly hurried, but not quite a run, as her eyes gaze around for anyone that might be trapped or too paralyzed with fear to move. Or foolish enough to try looting instead of saving themselves, though they probably deserve what they get.
Ariah	Where is Ariah but in her home, on her island, in the wibbly-wobbly magic-y tech-y micro-dimensions within the Elite residential area. She's reading a book, studying an arcane tome. A small purple Shinki sits idly nearby, holding a colored pencil as big as she is and working on a coloring book. A tear in the air appears just over the image she's filling in and eats her pencil. A surprised noise comes from the tiny robot and it catches the witch's attention even as a surprised "Master! It ate my pencil!" meets her ears. "I see that..." she says, frowning as more tears in reality start to streak in around her home. "...everything is cracking. Why is my island trying to eat itself? Is there a flaw in the home maintenance fields?" she pings the radio, getting reports of things going wonky all over the place. "Come along, Aurora, we're leaving." she says calmly, standing up and moving to her room, sidestepping a crack that opens up in her floor. She stares at it, frown crossing her already cool features, and she moves briskly to snatch a bag, some of her books, and a couple of jellycans just in case. "We're needed in medical, right now," she says, snatching up the Shinki charging station and packing it in her small bag, and sweeping up the little purple angel on the way by before she gets taken up by another rift. Being weird pocket dimensions of its own, her 'home instance' might be a little more unstable. She's not adventurous enough to poke her hands or head through a rift, after seeing the pencil get lopped in twain cleanly, but she does pause to send a thread of mana into one near her cabin door. If she could frown any more deeply, she would, as the energy itself is just gone, and her pace quickens as she slips out of the cabin and onto the sand. Her brisk pace turns into a full out run, using her supernatural speed to get off of the island and out of the room as quickly as she inhumanly can. Towards the Wards, and towards Medical, to aid in evacuating patients and staff...
Metal Man	Metal Man had been getting an award for his long service to the Confederacy and now something's going on and the base is cracking? Reality seems to be breaking here. Metal Man then lookd to the young woman who was giving him his award and then to Wily. "Era Omega protocalls active." He looks to the woman and then to Wily. "Wood Man, get them both out of here /NOW." Wily does not seem happy about bailing but nods. "Do what you must, come my dear we should not delay here." With that. Wily Wood Man and the young Woman are gong. <<Crash Man, Bubble Man, Heat Man, aid in the evucation, Flash Man with me. We need to ... carry out the Era-Omega protocall>> The Wily Numbers do get to work helping to get people out they will take what they can. Metal Man however along with Flash Man are heading for one of the Confederate Data Archives. "It's happening again, Flash." "Bad Feeling about this?" "Damn Right, now lets move before it's too late, We have the others on evaucations we need to endure we're not left without any leverage." "So wait I get to .. YES!" the Pair Race through the madness but oddly pause here and there to help people get going, a failing blast door is blown open to let people flee but they make for the core. "Our objective is grab whatever data of value we. Focus on Military and tech data." "Right." Meanwhile Elsewhere the Wily Numbers are working hard to get the people out they can, they size control of dones and use them to help. The Infamous terrible grabby copters are used to help aid those too /slow/ to get out on thier own.
Allan Bodily	Allan, was annoyed. As someone who started in maintaince, and even kept up on it after starting the Red Union, he wasn't too keen on the citadel to start with, what hte the crazy stunt used to magic it up. so when people started sending complaints? He was pretty quick to tell them off. As far as he's concerned? It's not the REd Union's fault all that crazy magic stuff was throwing a fit now. As it got worse, the complaints mounted, an Allan's anger rose with it. Once things to bad enough to call for Evac? Allan did the only thing that made sense. Arriving at the Citadel is Allan, and Neal and.... Trucks, buggies, even squads on foot. Dozens, possibly HUNDREDS of them. A sea of patchwork armor, makshift vehicles, and red banners. This isn't some simple recon or evac group. He brought what may well be the entire red union with him. They move towards the citadel, with Allan yelling from the lead truck. "Alright People The Feds have gone and $&*^ed up big time on HQ. While everyone else is busy saving their own @$$ out job's simple. Make way for the industrial sector, Save every worker you can, and if anyone decides to get in the way?... #$^& playing nice. KILL EM!" There's a cheer from his men. "Move it! I want those factories empty!
Winedark Archer	In the Citadel, a man thinks, and waits, and plans. And drinks. Winedark Archer sits in a bar, drinking as he thinks, as all good Greek men do. And then the bar begins to crack. And then the bartender gets eaten up right in front of him. Leaping backwards from his chair, he turns on his radio, speaks calmly into it, and moves for the highest point he can that won't kill him. He needs eyes on the situation, fast, before he can escape. From afar, he spots civilians in danger; unimportant unless he's told to save them. He spots an exit. People trying to save others. People dying. He sits, briefly, and thinks. Takes everything in. And realizes. He can't win this. Even with the Eye of his Mind, there is nothing to win. The only course of action is to escape. But first, he'll move, keep avoiding cracks. See what he can get out of this. While moving ever closer to the exist, of course.
Winedark Archer	And then Archer makes his final conclusion: there is no saving the Citadel. He swoops down, grabbing a pair of people directly in his way and throwing them towards safety (it might hurt though), and then begins searching for anything valuable that can be recovered from the Citadel, whether it's treasures or information or important people. If he can carry them and get himself out, he will, otherwise he evacuates himself alone.
Ariah	Following the radio chatter, Ariah starts her work immediately when she reaches Medical. She places the purple shinki on a shelf near a doorway, Aurora pulling her beam sword out and waving it towards the doorway. Her sweet voice and bright red blade are bright enough to direct those who can still amble under their own power to the exit. "This way! Calm and orderly fashion please! Don't step on anyone smaller than you!" While in the meantime Ariah wades through the crowd, having left her bag with Aurora. She pauses now and again, using her magic to fortify slower but still ambulatory individuals. "The pain is numbed. Your wounds will be aggrevated but you will live. Move faster, there are more behind you," she says in that cold voice of hers. She's no sadist but she's at least strictly business, ever the combat medic. "Grab your IV drip and move, you can find pants later," she fixes her gaze on one patient while hauling another over her shoulders in a fireman's carry. Medusa's words are taken to heart and a third is hauled out of bed via their sheets, bundled up, and pulled along the floor as she trudges back out with a stony expression.
Benediction	As the fractures spread throughout the Citadel and all sorts of side effects started to happen, a booming, male voice echoed throughout the structure. "Gods, it's finally happening. The end of the world. I have been stuck here, for so long. So, so long." With a sudden CRACK, the fractures multiplied, and the Citadel shook. Reality shifted just a bit along the fractures, things not visibly matching up anymore. "Have you ANY idea what my existence is like? What it was like, being stitched together from everyone being a complete and utter arrogant bastard? It does wonders for your sanity, I assure you." CRACK The fissures, once hairlines, now grew to great giant voids. Alarms started to sound everywhere, and the panic had finally set in. Unlike another certain event that was happening elsewhere simultaneously, it seemed that this particular incident was going to have a few more casualties as people started to fall off the great elevator, or took the wrong turn in the hall of doors. "And then, as the ultimate indignity, my rightful owner and creator disappeared, leaving me to sit here, serving you all. Imagine time passing slowly, having nothing to do except dutifully serve all of you sniveling wretches. Gods, it's like being the nanny of a bunch of petty children! But no, soon it'll be all over." The cracks had now spread to some of the more vital equipment around. Armories had started to spontaneously combust, magical charms and wards unraveling in the most spectacular and often combustive of ways. "Well, no, it won't. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to permanently end my miserable existence because that would just be too good. This isn't even my fault. But let me tell you all, I hate you. I hate you all. I hate hate hate you all. It'll be some comfort that I'll be able to take many of you with me. I hope that all of you die horrible deaths or go through some eterna-" And suddenly, a bright light that seemed like a star exploding filled the halls and enveloped the entire Citadel. And with that, reality finally shattered. Shards of reality flew every which way as a giant void overtook the citadel, but there was no giant BOOM or even something appropriate like the sound of glass shattering. The only thing that could be heard was laughing. For better or for worse, the shards of reality soon seemed to stabilize, more or less, and reality and normal space soon rushed to fill the voids between the broken pieces of the Citadel. It was a tricky business crossing over from a part of the Citadel to reality without accidentally just heading into another shard, but for most of the Citadel's elite population, it was doable with a little effort. For the more numerous and considerably more unlucky general population, well...it just depended on how lucky they were.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast made his way to medical and tapped his shadow lore. Copies of Argast were running patients towards the safe zone, while Argast stayed near Ariah and Medusa. "Oh, by Tzeench, shut up! I don't care about your whining!" He shouts to the cidatel (?). But with a look, he eyes the other two. "How many more?"
Medusa Gorgon	The medical staff are all busy getting the patients to the agreed upon rendez vous place, and any Elite who offers help are welcomed by the staff. There are many patients, both conscious and unconscious, all in varying degrees of health. Even small Shinki can help here with guiding the injured to the Hall of Doors as Medusa ordered. The more people, the quicker the evacuation goes. Finally Medusa herself arrives at the Hall of Doors, her large tattoo snakes having awoken as they carry patients in their mouths and on their heads. Glancing around with seeking eyes, she makes a mental count. All the other ward heads are here it appears, there's Ariah... other Elites are helping, good. "We have no choice but to evacuate, it's unsafe to be here," Medusa begins, calling out to those gathered. "We don't know what is happening, but we aren't taking any chances." Is... the witch letting out a heavy sigh? That's when that voice begins talking, and Medusa frowns, turning her head and snorting in irritation. Ariah and Argast are given a nod. "It's time to leave when we can. The rest are on their own." No, she's not going to risk her life for the patients who aren't here by now. She's not a saint, nor does she have reason to pretend to be. With that the witch hikes up her... medical coat up? She's still wearing her dress, but it does look a bit weird. And then she begins moving her behind, still looking rather annoyed. It's a strange sight, as if she's doing specific movements. A peculiar dance, maybe? Once she's done however, another rift in time and space opens, and Medusa quickly yanks her medical coat down and points to the portal. "We're going through. NOW!" Before things get worse.
Metal Man	Nornmally they would move to download data from the Confederate data archives. Now as Metal Man and Flash Arrives? Flash Man uses his time stopper to try and hold the warping of reality at bay by fucking with Time. This could go badly but for the moment Metal Man reaches the archives he know what cores he's after, reality warps and only his balance system saves him from falling into a pocket of broken reality. There's no time to think, no time to do anything but act. Flash Man and metal Man both move to disconnect several Cores. "We could get so much more..." "We can't spend it if we're dead. We got resarch and Military data in such a amount weshould be able to buy our way into any new group or use it to finally crush the Federation. Sides this is a hell of a thing a heist when relaity is brekaing?" With the cores in hand the pair are seeking to move out. Wily drones are frantoic grabby copters save many who'd otherwise die the wily bots are shockingly compassinate to those they can get out. There are no rivialies today, even people from group who get no love from them are pulled out. "MOVE IT! SHOW THEM WHAT THE CREATIONS OF WILY CAN DO!" Barks Crash Man. Back with Metal and Fash Man the pair are fighting with reality breaking all around them and a sickening feeling comes to Metal Man. He can think of a being that could do something like this, by his maker this was bad.
Wo	The seeming altruism takes a turn, as in her movements, and dodging degrading architecture, Wo withdraws something from within her cape. It's a small, doll-like being, perched atop a model-sized airplane. With enough separation from others that might hear, she utters an order to the diminutive being, "Lead any-one else you find, to safety...and..." She glances off into the distance of the corridor, "Re-trieve any files related to me, that you may find." She's asking a lot of a mere equipment fairy, but she knows that she's uncommonly smart and capable as far as their kind go, and with any luck she'll be able to better navigate the deterioriating structure. With the orders given acknowledged by the solemn salute of a spherical hand, the minor spirit climbs into her craft and takes off through the hallways. "...stay safe." Despite that effort, it soon becomes questionable that there'll be anything, or anyone, left intact to find at this rate. Things begin worsening, the crumbling accelerating, and as the carrier is soon having to all but play a real life platform game to move around to an exit point, it almost feels like the Citadel itself is against its occupants. That gut feeling turns out to be closer to reality than she would have guessed, as the voice, seemingly from everywhere at once, begins to thunder across. If she weren't in the middle of jumping and stepping between still intact pieces of corridor, at times now having to walk on what was previously walls and ceilings, she might even stop to try and start up a conversation. She's aware of some of those notions from her past lives, after all, but instead she only has time to utter, "You're not the o-nly one, to have those kinds of feelings. And you're not, go-ing to take me, with you." The severe structural damage soon turns to explosions, as the armories, reactors and infrastructure are the next to fall. And then, an awful, glaring light overtakes everything, as she ducks low against an ex-door frame, bracing for the worst. All is absolute darkness for a time, before it finally passes, and the fibers of reality seem to begin to realign enough that normal space enforces its will. She's a bit unsteady when things finally settle, though where the Citadel was, there is only wrought chaos. Her mask-like expression is as difficult as ever to read, but she still seems to be a bit numbed by it all. It's at this point that she begins wandering off, trying to make radio contact with anyone or anything to try and get a grasp of the scale of what's happened. Finding stable channels of communication seems almost impossible.
Tesla Armadia	Alarms continued to blare, more joining by the moment. Even with the efforts to plan and organize, there was chaos. People would be left behind, that was a matter of fact. They could only pull so many to safety. Tesla... just raised a brow at the voice that echoed through the entire facility with the most obnoxious, grating tone possible proclaiming its hatred for being shelter to so much hubris for so long. "... Somehow, I fail to be surprised. Facinated, but unsurprised." She turned to look back. "Status?" Stratos looked up from the console behind her. "The engines are at full power. Abby and Saiga are down there to make sure reality doesn't break them on us. We're piling in as many people as we can." The access ramp of the airship was down. Build wide enough to accomidate vehicles of war being loaded, it provided plenty of room to amass people through. Fortunately the only vehicle currently inside was a dropship and the Voidbreaker, so there was plenty of room in the hold to cram people that weren't able to get to other levels of the ship. Lunessa and her soldiers were on the ramp, helping to hustle people in, grabbing people brought down by the Wily drones. People and their knowlede was more important than the devices that could be rebuilt later. Even someone who loved machines as much as Tesla did had some reverence for life, when it was life not squandered friviously. One of the reality cracks split through the base of a heavy machinery host, sending it toppling over, shadow looming over the loading ramp. But never hits, as the hulking form of Shardcore steps off the ramp and catchs it. The ceratopsian warmachine groans and heaves, holding the fallen structure long enough for the last of the people to get under it before heaving it aside. "Close it," the machine rumbles as he turns and stomps back inside. "Is everyone--" Tesla stopped a moment, feeling a presence on the bridge. There had been no movement in or out... yet when she looked off to the corner, Laughtrap was slumped there, knees up and arms limp at the automatronic's sides. Like it had always been there, even though it had not. "Goddamn that thing is creepy." Stratos grumbles. Tesla walked over to pick up the data drive that was sitting in the automatronic hyena's lap. The only thing she needed recovered from her private labs. "Good robot." No surprise he was still though, that far of a transit jump would drain most of his power getting past the reality breaks. "Let's get out of here." The airship's engines roared to life, trusting the craft out of the hangers just as the largests of the reality breaks started splitting through the facility.
Dr. Vahzilok	When it becomes clear that not only is this not normal, it's an emergency, and help is needed in evacuation, Doctor Vahzilok takes action. He possesses no abnormal strength without his armor, no super powers other than his mind, but he did not come to the Citadel alone. Just incase. Those he had wait outside, upon an order over the radio, begin shambling inside. A mix of men in surgical gear like Vahzilok himself, though some wearing human remains as macabre armor, begin flooding into the area. They gather up those bleeding out from lost limbs or otherwise facing difficulty leaving, and haul the bodies towards the nearest evacuation points. Carrying people is half of what they do all the time, so they are practiced at it. Though usually when limbs have been cut off, it is by their hands, bonesaws, and cleavers, not reality distortion. Hulking Abominations, grey-fleshed, stitched-together monsters built using the parts from super heroes, rush in. They use their stolen super strength to follow the simple commands of the Reapers and Mortificators around them, tossing any collapsed structures aside or bodily lifting potentially panicked evacuees and carrying them out. The sight of such grotesqueries charging them probably is a very welcome one, nor being carried off in their repulsive and foul-smelling arms, but unless they possess strength of their own to escape the vice-like grip, these people WILL be evacuated by the walking dead, like it or not. Vahzilok himself oversees the process, though he's ready to depart himself whenever he feels it prudent. He has no stake in preserving this place. Indeed, he finds the way it is all coming apart, dying in pieces, breaking, and that onerous voice of some unknown soul complaining about his existence to be quite irksome, on a personal level. It's like everything he has fought to fix is coming undone before his eyes, but to a place, and on an enormous scale. 'Stitched together'? He lacks the means to fix these stitches. To put them back together. And he would, despite the apparent suffering this abstraction of a 'patient' has been going through. The preservation of life, even at cost, is more pressing than any pain or suffering that results. Vahzilok looks around suspiciously at the insults and derision, the mad laughter as everything flies apart, as though he personally is being mocked for his work instead of the Confederacy as a whole. His paranoia doesn't have time to fester before the shards become so broken that he loses sight of himself, of his place in the universe. It feels like everything has been upended, or like the floor has been pulled out from beneath him. It's a familiar feeling, though he can't recall where he felt this before. It was in the life of a petty man who wanted to save everyone and wound up losing the ones he wanted to protect most as a result. A man Vahzilok killed.
Dr. Vahzilok	He is more bothered by the seeming challenging of his personal philosophy by a now-dead construction of some kind than by the upheaval of reality. He would have probably made something like this Citadel himself if he had the means. Stitching together the pieces, making something that serves the grander goal, and made by his hands... Though hearing that such a creation was not HAPPY with being useful, proof of the miracle that was forged here, is troubling. Should not such a creation be content to do as its makers made it to? How short-sighted it must have been to put something like pain and hate and despair before the greater objective. Already, in his madness, he is dismissing the implications of the Citadel or whatever it was, rejecting what had been done to it, in order to push ahead into the future. The shard that carries Vahzilok away also carries many of those who were closest to him. But there are probably flesh golem and mad scientists who were lost. Angry and resentful that he has had his methods called into question and can not even justify them to the challenger, he stands and looks upon the void, and the ruins. He clenches his fists at his sides. "This will not be the world that I make. I will do it properly. I am not wrong." And so, having convinced himself that the hubris that went into making what is now a spatial rupture was only an error due to whose hands it was in, rather than that the entire idea was inherently wrong, he begins navigating his way back to Paragon City. Or trying. Soon, Dr. Vahzilok and his allies will find that things are not where they were left.
Allan Bodily	The Evacuation of the Industrial sector went surprisingly well, given the circumstances. Helped by the massive number of Red Union troops in the area. Workers were loaded onto various trucks and other vehicles that made way for towards the nearest exit. The Red union for it's part took any who would come. As much as the Red Union would love to exact a bloody toll on some of the Citadels more monstrous overseers, The rapid failure of reality left little time for street justice. The voice speaking up earns a simple reply. Allan, as he and the Red Union frantically pile out of the collapsing Citadel with their living cargo in tow looks towards the nearest widening crack, stares into the gaping abyss beyond, and flips it off.
Winedark Archer	Winedark Archer makes it to safety, lugging a large amount of valuables, pretty much his weight limit (which for a Servant is a lot). He did save a few people, though, so that's good too, as he takes a seat on the ground, safe. Some things make him want to be at sea again, almost.
Ariah	Ariah is busy moving people when reality suddenly fully and completely fucks itself. Or rather, the Citadel does its best impression of SHODAN and AM all in one fell swoop. She manages to retrieve Aurora and still keep the pair she'd pulling along and carrying, even as an entire room turns to stars. "Thank you, Nurse Gorgon," she says in passing, hurrying through the portal and not looking back, eyes forward with a grim look on her face. So many lost, but so many yet live.
Argast Wyrdseeker	With their way out, Argast and his shadows go through the portal. "By the dark pantheon, we will have answers." He says to Ariah and Medusa. He had no other words for the moment, but rather was...plotting. He could use this...
Laer	This goes from bad to worse. Laer's uncertain how much of what she's attempted to transfer has gone through at the moment when her computer explodes, and the Citadel starts to speak. She's left stuck in her office as reality shatters, naturally. This isn't where she would like to be. Luckily for her, she's got a lot of experience at being in places she wouldn't like to be, even bits of broken reality. Standing up in what at least still resembles her office, Laer sighs and starts to sing. A portal, far shorter in travel distance in some regards than her usual but far longer in a much more unreal sense will open, and the elf will step through it as her office starts to collapse around her. "I never did like that place, anyway." She justifies to herself, trying not to show how much the citadel's words had truly hurt her in the feelings.
Metal Man	Metal Man and Flash barely make it dodging through the failing relaity they leap for a flying wily transprot tyhat waited for them and they end up crash landing inside on top of eachother looking quite silly but holding their prize the data core. The two are a tangled mess but they are alive and got out. "...Your grill is in my face." "Ya and we just pulled off the most crazy heist in the entire war, pilot get us the hell out of here!" With that the transport rockets away with Metal Muttering "It's over, it's ... finally over."