The darkly lit room was filled with nothing more than a table with a map on it, surrounding the map and looking upon it were four shadowy figures. Three massively well-built and tall, strapping men as well as one muscular yet thin woman. "This is their main entryway into Whitechapel's market." said the tallest. Suddenly a messenger ran in without knocking. Each of the figures turned and watched carefully as he cautiously scuttled to the tallest figure, beginning to whisper to him. Without warning the wall behind them erupted inward, the chips of drywall flying toward the group as everyone was tossed like rag dolls against the opposite walls and floor. After a short amount of time the first of the group drowsily arose. A new light source flooded into the room through the dust cloud, destroying the darkness and revealing the young man.
With jet black, messy hair and a rather clean mustache the man shook his head and rested on his knee; the ringing of the explosion still having an effect on him. The echoing of screams in his ears slowly became clearer. "Victor!" Sir Morien screamed, already pulling him to his feet. The man shook his head once more, with his blurred vision clearing he realized whom the source of the other screams were from. The young messenger, no older then 19 and his two comrades whom were trying to help him. Marshall and Clair, the two always gave more to others then unto themselves. Soon Victor stumbled over to the two in order to get a better view and perhaps help, but only got a better image of what was the cause to the young messenger boy's screams of pure agony and suffering.
The boy's garments had been turned to scraps, the once deep navy blue color that was mixed with golden accents and crimson clothe was now charcoal black, scorched and tattered. His metal neck and wrist guards that were once pure silver had now singed and welded to the areas it once defended, the skin molded around its new body part, almost still steaming and bubbling. The boy's right leg was brutally gnawed off by the brute force of the explosion, now tattered and bleeding profusely; mixing with the dirt and dust on the ground. Clair, in a panic, attempted to stop the thick crimson water from flowing out. Wrapping a ripped piece of her coat, but it was no use. She had been helping a dead man for the past few seconds. She realized this after she looked up at the boy's eyes, now half shut and lazy, the once white coloration was now invaded by pure dark crimson, tears of it still slipping down his cheeks.
Marshall helped her up as Victory finished vomiting, he had seen dead bodies before. But never had he smelt the scored and burnt human skin nor seen the life draining from someone like a river into an ocean. The three gathered their thoughts and composure before searching for Sir Morien, figuring he had escaped out of the new doorway in the wall they did the same. They were right, their elder had made it to the street and was now waiting for them, as Victor looked up at the sky he suddenly realized the true reason of this attack. There was smoke all over the city, five specifically that were the size of their's and once that was as if a volcano erupted, the smoke billowing into the sky, turning the heavenly white clouds black. This was another attack, sure. But this time is killed thousands.