Nurous questions buzzed in Alex’s mind as he inadvertently blad himself for the current scenario playing out before him.
Questions like why had the Taskmaster entered the hall?... Was it because he heard Alex enter or he had a task to perform but was stopped from doing so due to noticing an intruder’s presence?... Or how would he prevent the situation from escalating considering the massive debuff he was currently under?
These and much more flitted through Alex’s mind, leaving him increasingly troubled as he watched the dark ichor about the unconscious Taskmaster tremble as though given life.
It churned before going ahead to slowly intrude on the Taskmaster’s body, ensuring that the minor corruption he was under would not dissipate quickly.
Dread gave way to outright terror as the dark ichor blood with several red eyes filled with bloodlust and plotting wanton destruction.
He took steps back as the Taskmaster took so forward.
’Join us, join us.’
’Do not resist.’
’Co closer.’
The whispers grew more rampant as they got closer, ripping through the minor defenses Alex had managed to put up before entering the hall.
His body trembled as his expression distorted, revealing just how affected he was by the vile words spoken to him.
As his eyes began to turn red, his mind twisted by the whispers of the Relics, Alex found himself thrust into a brief mory, one that showed him what he would lose should he succumb to the temptations.
That brief mont of respite was enough to allow Alex realize that all he felt was but an illusion of the Relics, utilizing their whispers to leave him without a ans to fight back.
When had he been so weak as to give in so easily?
But with that buff to his mind ca yet another question as he wondered; why had the Taskmaster succumbed so easily despite being designed to handle such a thing?... He was clearly tougher ntally than Alex so was it rely because he had been knocked unconscious?
Hardly had he begun to ponder this when the whispers ca back, this ti no longer trying to lull Alex, instead rebuking him for resisting.
’You will burn.’
’You will be strangled, hanged, and have holes drilled into you.’
"Die, die die!’
A terrifying migraine ca upon him at that mont causing him to nearly blank out as he staggered back, nearly screaming out in pain.
At the sa ti, the corrupted Taskmaster made his move, taking awkward steps towards Alex.
His movents looked like how a puppet with strings would move though the danger he posed was no lesser than before.
Alex barely kept his grip on his consciousness as he struggled to remain standing.
He was clearly in a losing fight.
There was no way he’d be able to handle the whispers and a corrupt Taskmaster alone but who could he call for help?
Imdiately, a new plan was formulated, taking out what was left of the old one and replacing it with new parts.
Once done with the act which took less than three seconds, Alex moved.
He turned and fled, running as fast as his legs could carry him while inspecting all the Relics he hadn’t checked yet.
The Taskmaster didn’t bother to chase after him, instead turning to one of the Relics sealed away in the hall.
It was a jack-o’-lantern trapped in a block of ice.
He moved towards it and without hesitation, grabbed it before detaching it from the canister of liquid nitrogen.
Then, he shattered it, utilizing the tough floor to release the jack-o’-lantern sealed within.
Imdiately, a conflagration of red flas erupted, ripping past everything it could touch with a trained effervescence, including the Taskmaster.
A pained cry echoed across the hall.
The edifice was imdiately plunged into chaos as other Relics were freed from their constraints, their destructive tendencies unleashed in full force.
Alex was already at the door by this point, his eyes on a particular item sealed in a glass box before he shifted his attention to the burgeoning darkness that was quickly being painted with red flas, locusts and so much more.
The hall seed to serve its purpose well, ensuring that the destruction the Relics wrought occurred within its confines but Alex had a feeling that it was only a matter of ti before the Relics would break out of the cage.
With that in mind, he turned and pushed the door open, only to find himself in yet another large hall with an elevator at its center and a flight of stairs at the other end.
But neither kept his attention as instead, Alex glanced at the unmoving bodies of two Taskmasters lying before him.
Then it clicked.
The Taskmaster he fought wasn’t ant to be in the hall and it also explained why their fight had felt like the Taskmaster was trying not to make too much noise.
Just then, he watched as several ard Taskmasters ca down the flight of stairs at the other end of the brightly lit hall with urgent steps while the elevator humd to life several seconds before soone, a handso man most likely in his mid-thirties, donning a pristine white coat and wielding a choir master’s baton in his right hand, erged.
The man carried a similar air as Aiden causing Alex to consider him the Conductor of Ordnance Ana had spoken about.
"Who..."
Boom
Oswald hardly had the ti to make any inquiries into Alex’s identity as the Relics within the sealing hall began to make their way out.
Alex imdiately shuffled out of the way, sticking to the far end of the wall to avoid the inevitable clash.
He kept his eyes on Oswald who glared at him with visible annoyance.
At the sa ti, several swords erged from the void, circling Oswald who after much thought, finally turned his attention to the Taskmaster who had been devoured by the whispers, his entire body alight with red flas.
Seeing the burgeoning darkness filled with bloodlusted eyes, Oswald’s expression was filled with disdain and sheer disgust as he swung his baton, causing the swords circling him to attack the Taskmaster.
A scarecrow arrived before the Taskmaster, ensuring the attack struck it instead of its intended target.
As the Taskmasters rushed to aid Oswald as several more Relics erged, two rushed to apprehend Alex who, utilizing Entropy, escaped their initial assault before fleeing in the direction of the stairs, unwilling to wait to see the end of the clash.
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