The Impossible Mansion: Olivier's Domain

The two forces collided and, for just a moment, there was silence. Where they met in the middle, they tangled and fought like dragons of legend, and then they exploded. A sound like the wrath of Zeus himself ripped through the mansion, as did one black and one white flash of unholy flame.

Aphos avoided the flames handily, James caught the brunt of it on one wing. James let out a surprised yelp, accompanied by a bright spark of energy that disappeared into the flames. Maxwell stumbled backwards under the force, suffocating heat filling his lungs and washing over his skin.

[This is roughly 45 damage to Maxwell, but I imagine the satisfaction of the following events will make it worth.]

Whatever Olivier was expecting, it wasn't this. Black and white flames lashed against his face and singed through his clothes, sending him tumbling backwards into a wall. All around him the walls began to burn like paper and thick smoke billowed through the hallway, obscuring everyone's view. Worse than his scorched skin was the bubbling pain in his veins, tearing at him without relent.

[This is exactly 137 damage, but we're calling it 140 because I like that number better.]

James screamed in agony, the same pain pumping through him.

[This is a miserable 25 damage :/ ]

Aphos would have experienced the shortest, most devastatingly painful migraine of his life. Other than being a little flash-bang blinded, no damage is sustained.

Maxwell's eyes gleamed through the blinding glare, his gaze two points of static in the center of a plane of devastation. Then, he started to laugh, as though all of it had been the funniest joke he had ever heard.

"Holy shit... you actually hurt me with imagination." Maxwell said, his skin burned a bright baby pink. "You have got to be the first motherfucker in....ages...Good on you." He said with a chuckle.

Then, he sighed, "But, you know, all good things..."

[Imagus Stage 3: Healing]

"Cause you see" Maxwell said, his skin and clothes repairing themselves as though time was flowing backwards "That means that you're a danger to my lovely little hell-scape." Maxwell raised a hand to shoulder level, and snapped his fingers.

[End of Eternity - Target: Olivier]

Olivier seemed to phase through the floor as Maxwell snapped his fingers. And almost immediately after, he fell through the roof, vomiting blood as he tried to straighten himself up.

"You little fuck. You come to my house, you destroy my family, you burn everything - wretched little heath-" He doubled over, clutching his gut and coughing up more blood. Olivier drew his pistol in place of words and fired blindly at Maxwell. The bullets that rushed forth carried streaks of blue flame behind them.

All around them the house was crumbling, burning, and warping. Angels fled and screeched - as did James. His sword clattered to the ground and he clawed at his chest. His home - his external blood and bone - was melting and warping and dying. And so was he.

Aphos's eyes were burning like he had dripped siracha in them. He didn't know why but he bet dollars to rage-flavored donuts that it was Maxwell's fault. He looked through his suddenly blurry vision at the scene around him. He could see everything as blotches of whirling power, which would have been sort of cool is white static and roaring flames weren't ripping everything apart. This was becoming a problem.

Aphos squinted in pain. It was like someone was trying to kick in his head, it was like...

He realized suddenly that it felt a lot like his eyes were......on.....fire. That had happened earlier too when Maxwell... set everythingonfireohgodDAMNIT. Aphos ground his teeth, his vision quickly growing dimmer. "No, this is bullshit!" He roared. "You can fucking do this shit elsewhere!"

Aphos leaped down into the chaos, grabbing James as he fell. "You're coming with me flutters, if I stick myself in some existential nonexistence I'm gonna want company."

Aphos's eyes flashed like lightning. "I really hope this fucking works." He muttered.

[Imaginaaaaation]

Suddenly, Aphos was sitting in a cushy leather armchair. He made a noise that was something between a questioning grunt and an angry cat. As he looked around, he saw that he had been transported to a small room, decorated like a crypt. Flowing black chains hung from the ceiling, and smooth jazz played softly in the background. Aphos blinked. His eyes didn't hurt... Holy shit he had done it. He suddenly understood why Maxwell acted so insanely confident all the time.

-------

Maxwell felt wonderful. It had been a very long time since he had taken off his...self. It was like taking off a winter coat in ninety degree weather. Shame that physics wouldn't allow it for very long.

He floated in the chaos static tendrils snaking out from him to taste his surroundings. There was so much potential here, but he couldn't let it distract him. He still had an angel to murder.

He turned his...damn, things were more complicated without a structured form... He made himself a face, and then turned it to look at Olivier "Hello there little angel." Maxwell said from everywhere at once.

"It's lovely to finally see you..."

"I see." Olivier seemed to calm down. "Now I get it. Why you've made so many enemies. We will regain our Hell, buddy. Lucifer should never have been so soft on you."

What happened next happened almost too quickly to the outside observer. Black static shot from Olivier's back in the shape of wings, surrounding him briefly before disappearing into nothingness. They exploded next from Maxwell's back - and Olivier's face contorted into one of terror. A spear of pitch black energy shot from Maxwell to Olivier. The angel paled, stumbled, and then smiled.

"Oh." He croaked.

-----------------

James wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Aphos incredulously. Perhaps it was the soldier in him, but it was in the moment that he swore loyalty to him.

"Your eyes are going to be damaged." He said quietly, straightening himself up and trying to bend his wounds shut with the ambient angelic energy. "Here, I don't need these as much as you need your eyes."

And with this, James took his wings in his hands and tore them from his back with a sickening sound. They burned up like paper, leaving a misty cloud of golden energy in their place.

"Replace the damaged tissue with this. It's the same stuff your eyes are made out of. More or less, anyway."

"Jesus shit!" Aphos said, standing up quickly. He looked through his blurry vision at Jame's outstretched offering. This....this was going to be slightly awkward. "Well, uh, thanks." He said, gingerly picking up the blood-soaked appendages. "Do I just kind of..." Aphos smushed the wings against his face, and let out a little shiver of discomfort...they were still warm.

Suddenly the tissue writhed and blurred, repairing his eyes. He blinked, able to see again, and observed in full clarity Jame's somewhat bedraggled form. "Uh...Thanks, I'm really bad with first aid, but if this place is anything like the real place there should be stuff you can use as bandages in the ottoman...it kinda, flips up."

Aphos was caught between gratitude and confusion. He was also extremely unused to people being nice to him.

------

Maxwell sighed, causing the entire structure around him to shake. "You just robbed me of perhaps the most satisfying part of this exchange you know that?" he asked, almost sadly.

"Still, It's been fun. I'll give you the best solution that I can to what you did to yourself. I'll warn you though... It'll take some getting used to."

So saying, Maxwell's tendrils quickly and efficiently disassembled Olivier's form, leaving only the black static, and a bright spot in the middle. Maxwell plucked the spot from its dangerous position, and bringing a grin to his newly constructed face, he spoke the last words that Olivier would hear for a very long time.

"I'm going to send you somewhere you can grow into something cooler. I hope next time we meet, we can have a battle worth remembering. Wait for me." He said, and then, he plunged the bright spot that was Olivier into the shifting expanse of the white void.

Maxwell sighed. It was time to go back to being solid. He hated this part.

James shrugged, rubbing his sore shoulders. He waved away Aphos' offer for first aid. Some amount of martyrdom would stick with him forever. Ignoring the hot trickle of blood down his back, James scanned the room for his sword. It lay on the floor looking rather old and inexplicably mournful. James picked it up and turned it over in his hands.

"I guess this'll need to grieve a little, huh? Still." He turned back to Aphos, plunging the sword into the floor at his feet. "Grief or not it should still count for this. Probably. Hopefully. The point is, this blade now serves in your name."

There was a moment's pause before James realized that he should explain that before Aphos took his sword.

"All angelic weapons serve in someone's name. It gives them a lot of their power. So now, that blade will gain your blessing - whatever it is - and will never harm your allies. Just touch it. Don't pick it up, it's still mine. Not for looting." He added the last bit with a firm glare.

-----------------

An ornate pistol - black metal with intricate red designs - clattered to the floor. As did, alarmingly enough, a pair of eyes. They sported a beautiful lace pattern, similar to the pistol.

Aphos inched forward and cautiously poked the sword hilt, which suddenly clinked with a length of pitch black chain, wrapped around the hilt like a hand-guard. A single rune was emblazoned in burning white on it. James might recognise that rune as the name of the angel he had smited with the sword.

Aphos recoiled, as though he had recieved a static shock, but then he smiled, his sharp teeth making it ever so slightly unsettling. "Whoa, That felt really cool." He then looked sheepishly at James. "So uh... I really have no idea how this works, like... Do I have to uh...give the sword orders or? Look, I'll be honest with you, I have only ever wielded scythes and shotguns, plus one that was both so... fill me in here."

------

Maxwell sighed, and brushed off his vest. Back to being a being.

He cracked his knuckles, and looked around at the floating debris that had once been a realm. "Well, plenty of runoff energy... Ah, there they are."

Maxwell strode across the nothingness to the large black box. He knocked on the door, the singular feature that stood out.

James shook his head with a little snort of laughter. He picked up the sword and felt it's weight. A satisfied smile played on his lips as he noted the name of his fallen brother.

"Kick ass and take names." He muttered. "But no, your work is pretty much done. Now I kill shit with this and you benefit. Somehow. I don't know how yet."

[While chains are, for the average person something to be avoided, as they signify capture and restriction, for Aphos, they are a symbol of safety, being that Midnight’s main method of protection was to shroud Aphos in black chains to ward off any attack. Likewise, the chain now adorning the sword will act in automatic protection of its wielder, fending off any physical attack its length will allow. As the sword kills opponents, their names, and by extension their power are absorbed into the chain, causing it to grow longer as well as more efficient at its job. With a bit of concentration, its wielder can also directly control it like another limb, using it to do anything from swing across large gaps to shake someone’s hand, though that is usually considered creepy.

When not in use, the chain retracts into itself, becoming something akin to a keychain, albeit a keychain that can leap out and choke an attacker at a moment’s notice.

The chain, being a direct characterization of how Aphos views midnight, is essentially unbreakable, and, in a pinch, will attempt to cover its wielder’s entire body like a blast shield. Doing this however does put stress on the chain, causing it to temporarily lose speed and precision for some time.]

"Oh. Well cool." Aphos looked at the chain, feeling a twinge of something that he instantly buried.

"Well I guess-"

There was a knock on the door. Aphos looked over at it suspiciously. He sidled over, putting his eye to the peephole, before pulling back with a snarl. He nearly ripped the door off of its hinges as he slammed it open, before punching maxwell right in the mouth.

------

Maxwell chuckled as Aphos held his fist in pain and cursed vehemently. "Hi guys." he said with a little wave "Have eyes." He said, tossing a pair of eyeballs in a jar at Aphos.

Aphos barely caught the jar, still glaring daggers at Maxwell as he walked past him.

"Nice sword, very post modernist prison."

"Are you even going to address the fact that there is....nothing, outside that door?" Aphos growled.

"Well, I think you did it for me" Maxwell said, taking a seat on a fluffy black loveseat. "Nice furniture by the way."

"Thank you" Aphos muttered, softly enough to avoid being heard.

OLIVIER'S SIGHT: Congrats on your new eyeball powers Aphos! When using this ability, your eyes will turn black and be covered in red designs (usually lacey or web-like, it's honestly up to you because they are your eyes now).

You are now able to form bonds with people - the amount of people you can bond with is based on your imagination stat. 1 person for every 10 points. They come with 10 points into imagination because they are literally made of the stuff.

Anyone who you have bonded with (and they can be un-bonded at will) is now your personal security cam. You can see through their eyes at any time, no matter where they are, and even force them to look around in any direction you choose.

Bonding with someone gives you Insight about that person, you can learn much about their personality and mental state - including powers and skills they may not even now they have.

----------------------

THE WHIP: So named for the fact that it can be drawn without expending any type of turn time.

Bullets fired from this gun are imbued with power relevant to the person pulling the trigger. It does extra crit damage and has some pretty excellent base damage to boot.

1. 20 base dmg
   
2. +5 to all crits
   
3. Bullet effect damage is determined by imagination stat