LOG-016.
It was good to be in charge.
Sure, there would be responsibilities, but I'd taken on the role knowing that in advance. And the benefits…well. Taking the now exiled Armageddon's old quarters for myself was definitely something to be enjoyed, even as the sounds of plates clicking into place filled the air.
Beside me, an old friend thumped his staff onto the floor, the prominent S and N on either end flashing in sync, even as a slight spark jolted in between his two makeshift horns, cape billowing from the effects of an unseen power while the last of my new uniform was bound together.
"The modifications you requested are complete, my Lord! Please, take a look and tell me what you think!"
Standing, I heeded the lich-like Commander's advice and turned, peering through the slight tint of my corrupted visor.
The reflection staring back at me from the floor to ceiling mirror was…familiar, albeit with a few new additions to mark the progress I'd made in upgrading my equipment.
The Warden uniform was still there, of course, bits of silver material peeking out here and there, but the projection formed from my badge acted more like an undersuit now, paving the way for the layered plates of dark armour resting over it. The general design vaguely resembled my old repurposed riot gear look, but the edges were sharper, the bearing more regal…
Oh, and the purple trim had been replaced with gold, just to complete the aesthetic.
"It's perfect, Magnetron. You do good work."
A skull-like visage blinked at that, before the Commander bowed his head slightly, the third eye protruding from his belt closing in time with the two embedded in his head.
"I merely shaped the metaphorical clay, Lord Knightmare. Credit is due to the engineering team for such fine material to work with."
I let a soft hum escape my throat at that, before nodding, even as my lance manifested into being beside me with its usual paradoxical flash of darkness.
"I'll have to thank them as well, then. Now that I finally look the part of Gamma Lord, I'd say it's time to call our first general meeting. Don't you?"
"That would certainly be wise, my Lord."
"Walk with me?"
"It would be my pleasure. But uhm…one thing, your Lordship."
"Yes?"
"I noticed General Lovelace left a box of chocolates at your door while I was passing by. Did you…take them?"
"Of course not, I gave it to the Grunts for disposal. There's probably a bomb or something in there."
"Ah…most wise, my Lord."
—
The long table was filled with a variety of individuals, with both new and old faces. While some of the Legionnaires present had been on the Animus for a while now, others had only recently returned from the various safehouses they'd been hiding in, communicating with the airship for its signature before using portals to make it in time for attendance.
Naturally, I stood at the head of the stolen piece of furniture (taken from some ransacked mansion, no doubt), my arms clasped behind my back and my crimson visor showing no emotion to the slightly nervous band of villains.
After all, everyone present was a Lieutenant. A stark change in comparison to Armageddon's own trickle down method of leadership.
Ordinarily, the Generals would be yelled at. Then they would yell at the Commanders, who would in turn yell at the Lieutenants, who would then take to the field with Grunts to complete various tasks.
I would likely replicate that method eventually, but for the time being I needed to make sure my orders weren't misinterpreted. Thus, a small bit of micromanagement to grease the wheels, so to speak.
The silence had stretched in the face of my thoughts, and now a few of the inhuman figures were visibly fidgeting at my seemingly frozen form, fidgeting which promptly stopped as I reached forward, grabbing the stool that had been resting in front of me and pulling it beneath me, taking a seat myself.
"Apologies for the change in schedule, but the following days will require precision, and so the usual routine will be disrupted for the short term. Regular updates from your superiors will resume soon, rest assured."
Turning to glance to my right, I stared at a face seemingly composed of directional signals, attached to a metallic helm which in turn connected to a visibly mechanical body, one that looked almost comical sitting atop its own stool thanks to how bulky it was.
"Lieutenant Vector."
"Lord Knightmare!"
Raising a hand, I noted the sweat somehow managing to bead across the gravity manipulator's head, before calmly planting the limb on his shoulder.
"I'm told you rescued three of your fellow Legionnaires from capture during our flight from the airport. Gave those Mecha-Wardens a good thrashing, hm?"
Somehow, the directional signal that acted as his 'eye' managed to shrink slightly, before expanding rapidly, his tone turning cheery as he lifted a three fingered hand and clenched it into a fist.
"Yes my Lord! Damned tin cans didn't stand a chance when they got pinned to the road! Easy pickings for the Grunts!"
He paused, turning to glance at the distinctly mechanical limb, before shrugging.
"Certainly make decent material to manifest from though. Even if I kind of feel like a fridge right now."
Patting his shoulder with a smirk, I nodded and leaned back, turning to glance at the rest of the table and nodding.
"That's what I like to hear, absolutely stellar work Lieutenant. So!"
Everyone's attention immediately sharpened as I turned away from the somehow beaming (despite lacking a real face) Legionnaire and clapped my hands together, gauntlets inducing a slight ringing sound upon impact.
"The Legion is at full strength for the first time in years, but we're scattered across the Earth, as some of you may well know. While many have managed to return to the fold, droves of our compatriots remain in hiding, either unable to contact us or unwilling to risk it with the steel armada hovering above their heads."
Leaning back, I spread my arms, drawing everyone in.
"Our priority is thus to recover those lost soldiers, and to expand our operations! The Animus is bloated enough as it is, so we'll be needing more airships for one. I'll be meeting with the Generals later for a meeting involving the wider strategic level, but for now, let's talk individual missions."
My visor flashed in the relative dimness of the room, even as a crooked smirk crossed my face.
"Are you all ready to steal a bunch of stuff?"
The response was, naturally, what I liked to hear.
"Yes my Lord!"
"And would everyone be alright with me ordering some takeout before we really get stuck into planning your respective heists?"
"Yes my Lord!"
"Excellent! Are we feeling EsenihC or pizza? I've got coupons for both."
The subsequent arguing was, naturally, entirely predictable for beings who literally called themselves Chaos.