In the chaos, Alexander managed to find Hiad and Skrecay, who had gathered the remaining survivors together for a last stand. "Oi, seems yer in a bit o' trouble over there." he said with a large, fake grin on his face; attempting to raise morale. There were six survivors, four males and two females (both pregnant, he noted). Somewhat surprisingly, two of the men had the insensate breeding slave carried between them.

"You cocksucking motherfucker! Where the fuck did you go!" Skrecay shouted at him, evidently having not been informed of the purpose of his absence. He noticed the ratling had grown to be just shorter than Hiad, having seemingly reached full adulthood… And his right eye was glowing, had turned a radioactive green, and was producing a green mist that faded away within inches of the source. He decided to ask him what that was about at a slightly less hectic moment.

"I was locating our brand new base of operations! Grab my hand everyone and we'll be on our way." Most of his face was hidden by the flickering shadows produced by the multicoloured flames; but the huge grin on his face was easily visible. Grumbling, the various skaven hastily grabbed a hold of any available space on his arm. They were all covered in a variety of wounds, some more severe than others. Alexander threw out a rain of explosive bayonets and blasting chains, as wisps of blue light began to overtake them. "Adios, fucksticks." He declared, giving the skaven (who had just breached the final defenses and turned the corner and began charging them) the bird. The blue light fully overtook them as the first blades hit the ground and detonated. His skaven looked around in wonder at the (blood splattered, pocked, and scorched in many places) pristine white walls. "Welcome to the former home base of the Institute; now our home base. Once we get this place cleaned up and repaired, we'll have a functionally unassailable fortress to plan our conquest of the world." His grin seemed to impossibly widen as he glanced about the gore-streaked facility. He laughed, "Take two lefts and you'll find the primary medbay. Once yer all patched up, fan out and try to find anything of interest. Beware; there may still be pockets of resistance active. Take any scientists alive and kill any synths. Regroup here in three hours and I'll give ye a proper debriefing." He frowned briefly, turning to look at them. "Skrecay, what in the blood-soaked-protestant-hell happened ta yer fuckin' eye?"

Skrecay frowned and reached up towards the eye in question. "Hit a flamer with a mini-bayonet; it exploded and a piece of shattered warpstone hit me in the eye. For some reason it seemed to melt into my eye rather than piercing it, and this is the result. I've yet to ascertain the long term effects, but it seems to have greatly improved my eyesight and granted improved night vision. I'll inform you if any new effects make themselves known."

He frowned, "Fine, but if it starts to spread or has any negative effects, I'll rip the damn thing from yer head myself if I have to." He did not like the idea of Chaos corrupting any of his men.

"Of course, sir." Good man, Skrecay.

He turned and walked away, heading towards where he had placed the captive scientists, whistling a jaunty tune as he walked. Upon reaching the large chamber he presumed was some kind of surgical theater based on the design, he looked at his hostages, grinning. He had arranged the scientists in the stands, as far apart as possible (though this was not very far at all). He grinned, "Ye seem ta be a might uncomfortable, wrapped in those chains o' yours. Now, I'd love ta help ye… but Ah can't trust a bloody one o' ye. Ya see, all o' ye were workin' for the Institute. Now, personally I don't give a flyin' fuck who ye worked for before. If ye devote yer faith ta me an' Atarah, ye can continue doing the research ye were doin' before." He repeated the same ritual he had used when he had first conquered his current skaven. Grinning, he ordered them to the medbay to heal up and introduce themselves to their superiors. "They're definitely going to attempt a coup, and soon." He said, frowning at the ceiling in thought.

"Of course they are, they're still loyal to the Institute or, at the very least they just prefer it to you. Gaining their trust is less important than their loyalty. Though we can force obedience, we can't force loyalty."

He frowned, slowly walking towards the med bay. "I know, I know, but loyalty is a difficult thing ta gain; especially from captives. We could try ta inflict stockholm syndrome, but that's rather unreliable. If we could find some sorta mind control device… or even just something that implants suggestions in the subconscious; in fact that sounds better, less obvious and therefore less likely to backfire or simply fail should it suddenly stop working."

"And where better than an advanced lab to invent such a thing… though adding magic is probably a good idea, it could work to enhance it or as a fail-safe should anything go wrong."

"Bahahahahaha! Ah, but there's only one, rather large, problem: we don't know how to even start going about making one and we damn well cannae let t' boys know 'bout this. Never good ta let those yer controllin' know yer doin' it; could start a revolt." His trademarked psychotic grin split his face, though it seemed a touch forced as he thought of the possible repercussions of brainwashing at the very least his own forces.

"We will work on it in secret, testing it on captured enemies or those who fail us drastically. When we succeeded the advantages we shall gain are astronomical: soldiers who will never abandon a mission, absolute loyalty, soldiers willing to die at a word!"

"Aye, and dying for no reason when running is the sane decision. We should only use this on enemies. Eventually someone will figure out how to break free of it."

"Then for allies we will just put suggestions into their mind, ensure loyalty while not taking full control."

"Kill them all! Enslave! Rape! Murder!"

"... The fuck was that!?" Alexander's manic grin had faded significantly at this new voice in his head.

"That was… You see, I'm kind of the sentient representation of the light within you having ascended to godhood. And they are the beginnings of my opposite, the darkness within you having attained its own godhood and now grasping at sentience. It… may be beneficial to help it develop so it can join us… I can learn to share; if it comes to that."

Alexander finally frowned, pondering this strange and disturbing occurrence. 'So, yer tellin' me I have a fuckin' daemon god in my head? And wait, since when are ye the manifestation of my "light side"? I thought ye were a god?"

"{Sigh} I am a god. I was formed from the "Holy" power within you and achieved godhood over time. They are formed from the "Unholy" power within you and are just now achieving godhood of their own. Both of us are intrinsically a part of you whilst also being separate. She could theoretically be a great hinderance should you chose to attack her in her first moments after her "birth"... at the same time she would be willing to forming a bond much like our own should you attempt to. Being part of you she will want to have a connection with you; many rogue demon gods became such because their creator tried to abuse or destroy them in their first moments instead of bonding with them. If you snub her, her burgeoning affection will turn to the purest of hate."

Slowly, a genuine smile spread across Alexander's face. "I see. So I have an evil version of you being "born" and all I have to do to double the number of gods in love with me is be nice to 'er? Fine by me! Bahahahahahahahaha!" He throw his head back with laughter as he walked down the hall to the medbay, kicking open a door when he heard faint noises coming from within. He found a damaged synth crawling towards him with one barely functioning arm, it's single eye glaring hatefully at him. He merely stomped on its head and walked away.

"Since when have you been looking for a harem?"

"Are ye kidding me? I 'aven't gotten off properly in 97 years! The closest I got was killin' fuckers!" He could feel her incandescent blush even though she had no body to speak of. By this time he had reached his goal and was watching his minions heal themselves(and fail miserably to understand the machines that did so). He swiftly grew tired of his men's abject failure to use most any of the medical devices. "All right, ye fuckin' morons! Seems I've gotta teach ye fucks ta use the damned machines." After hours of beating the basics of using technology into the thick skulls of his budding nation, he debriefed them on their new plan of operations now that they resided on a hollowed out moon. Their plan was to operate like a more aggressive version of the Institute; destroying small villages (killing or abducting the populous), infiltrating larger civilizations (using newly made synths loyal to them (him) primarily), and generally causing chaos in the name of many different factions, trying to start wars to destabilize the world and make it easier to conquer. Of course they need further training and to vastly increase in number before they can become nearly as aggressive as needed. For now they would focus on solidifying their control over this base and the technology therein. It took them a full month destroy all the small pockets of`resistance and three to understand and attain acceptable level of mastery over the various devices; many of which had no analogues to Alexander's time period. His forces were now equipped with advanced body armour, comms linked to squad members and main base(capable of reaching others), and a pistol and rifle (both silenced) to complement their bayonets; though they were discouraged from actually using said weapons in all but the most FUBAR of circumstances whilst on the surface. In the time they had focused on solidifying their control; their numbers had skyrocketed.

The first mission began three days after control was secured. A five man team of three skaven and two synths was sent to destroy a mid-sized village and implicate another kingdom in the area. The priority was to kill or capture the populous. The unexpected presence of Dr. Sapientem changed things.

Mission Log:

A magicly and mechanically enhanced skaven checks over his rifle, his magic-mechanical eye scanning for any faults and imperfections. Finding none, he slung the weapon over his shoulder and turned to his squad. "All right ya bastards; ya know the mission, ya know the procedure, ya know the risks. Let's go fuck up a village." His squad acknowledges in a grimly cheerful way, cocking pistols and sheathing blades. They moved into the positions designated as their experimental regulation formation and teleported into the forest nearby the target village. They drew their blades as they slowly approached as bullet or laser based wounds would ruin any attempt at framing another nation. They entered the first building they came across; apparently a large log cabin. They entered through the back door, moving near silently under the cover of darkness. Their leader gestured for them to break of in separate directions; one skaven and one synth in each team. The captain headed up the stairs whilst one team headed into the basement and another explored the first floor.

As the captain slowly advanced up the stairs, grumbling under his breath at the noise his squad was making, he noticed a slight, unusual sense of unease growing with every step. Dread filled him as he slowly pried the door open; only increasing when he saw a small form huddled in the corner. He collected himself and approached the figure, aiming to take them alive for the scientists. Before his pommel made contact with the back of the girl-childs head a significantly larger figure leapt out of the shadows and tackled him across the room; slathering jaws snapping shut inches from his throat. He barely managed to wrestle the deranged creature off of him (many pieces sloughing off as he did so) before the little girl turned to him, revealing her half-rotted face… and lunged at him. Her head flew from her shoulders as he dodged the arc of her bodies flight. He plunged his blade into the back of the other figures skull, twisting it to be sure, and rushed down the stairs to regroup with his squad. He saw dozens of the rotting bastards assailing those assigned to the first floor before he leapt into the fray, determined to get his men (and more importantly, himself) out alive.

The fetid horde nearly killed them with sheer numbers, almost utterly overwhelming them. Only their recent intense training kept them alive as they forced their way through the door. One member of their little group attempted to activate his teleporter; his distraction cost him his life. As the mindless rotting creatures fell upon him and devoured his still struggling flesh, his team grimly ignored his screams as they fought desperately to survive.

As they struggled to escape the seemingly endless tide of rotting flesh, they heard maniacal laughter over the rabid cries of the decaying hordes. A man in a pristine white holding a large silver pistol in one hand and a syringe shaped like a gun in the other.

The watching Alexander's fists clenched so hard he cracked the steel of his throne-like command chair. "Malum." He grit his teeth, watching the man murder his infiltration team. "Hiad, you're in charge while I'm gone!" So saying he slammed his fist down on the teleporter button on his chair, vanishing in a flash of blue light.

He appeared on the field, blades already lashing out to decapitate several zombies. He Leapt at Malum with a snarl, blades shining with blue and black light. Malum moved with incredible speed, blocking the blow with his gun and jabbing the syringe into Alexander's gut. "Ah, Alexander. I really must thank you for providing this marvelous disease." he held up the slightly depleted syringer. "The Council decided to use this planet as a testing ground for our modified versions."

Alexander growled, increasing the ferocity of his attack as his regeneration annihilated the man's attempt to infect him. Absolute immunity to infection is absolute; no matter the disease. He relentlessly attacked the man, before suddenly leaping back with a smirk. "Katsu, bitch!" hey, he kept up with the times. Malum's confusion melted into horror as he looked around realising most of the blades he had deflected had simply settled around him… and were glowing. A earth shaking {BOOM} split the night air, and the scientist was vaporised.

Or so Alexander thought, out of the smoke came the half melted form of a very pissed off Dr. Sapientem, guns blazing slightly brighter than his infuriated eyes. Alexander deflected and sliced the bullets as he sprinted forth to meet his adversary. His blades, engulfed in black cored blue flames, pierced his chest as the doctor blew off his head. Alexander released his blades, letting the doctor fall to the ground, the fires consuming his soul along with his body. He watched the man burn for a few moments as his head regenerated. He kissed his cross and closed the man's eyes, before turning to walk back to his men. He stopped, looking over his shoulder with a frown, then walked over and collected Malum's pistols and secreted them away in his long coat.

He followed the sound of gunshots to reach his men, finding only the heavily injured captain with his gun in the snapping jaw of the only other man who made it out of the house. With a grim look he pulled the trigger, splattering the soldier's brains over the already blood-soaked ground. He frowned turning to Alexander and gave a crisp salute.

Alexander nodded absently in acknowledgement, thinking over what to do. The Skaven was obviously infected… perhaps this would be a good chance to study the disease, make a cure/vaccination… and weaponise it for themselves. He frowned at the captain as he tried to patch his wounds. "You are most likely infected." he stated simply. The captain's head jerked back to stare at him with wide eyes. Alexander was now holding one of Malum's pistols, barrel aimed unwaveringly at the captain's forehead. "You can either be put in quarantine while we look for a cure… or I will execute you myself."

The skaven was about to speak before {BANG} his head exploded. Alexander whipped his own around to see who had done it; and nearly gasped at what he saw. There stood a disheveled Dr. Malum Sapientum holding a new pistol with his one remaining arm. "Aw, where you having a moment?" he asked, a tinge of insanity clouding his voice.

Alexander gave a near feral snarl, leaping at the man, instinctively firing his new pistol as his other hand flung blades. Malum had started returning fire, laughing psychotically with a grin that would do The Joker proud. Bullets and blades flew like horizontal rain, tearing into Alexander as Malum's freakish accuracy blasted almost every blade from the air. Alexander was halfway to him when his stolen guns exploded, blasting a huge chunk out of his side and taking most of his right arm off.

He was regenerating slower than before, the bullets were taking a toll they shouldn't have and he had barely hurt the unreasonably accurate doctor. He slowly slid to a stop, leaning back on his knees before the deranged doctor. Malum placed his gun straight against his temple as the God's in it screamed, desperately trying to speed up his unnaturally slowed regeneration. {Bang}, and his head was gone. The twin gods sobbed in his soul, clinging to it and each other as they tried to fix damage that should have already healed. Malum just kept on laughing, his truly demented laughter the only sound save the crackling of the village set alight by their battle.

Minutes passed and Malum's laughter had grown horse, yet he would not quit… until a bayonet thrust through his throat and he could no longer laugh. Alexander slowly rose, body still shredded and headless; yet as he rose he regenerated, till he was fully healed once he had gotten to his feet. Malum stared at him with horror in his single eye; fear that not even the madness could drive out as he desperately clawed at the foreign object lodged in his spine, having dropped his gun in his shock. Behind Alexander, stretching from his back were to huge and mighty wings; one of purest radiant white and the other and a black that seemed to absorb the light around it. HIs blade came alight, the flames a monochromatic black and white that seemed to eat at reality around them. Soon Malum was consumed utterly, till not even ashes remained and his soul burned to match. Alexander stood silently for a long moment, his blade at his side and wings extended. He turned away; wings folding to his back and blade disappearing up his restored sleeve. He left a faintly glowing blade firmly stuck in the small pool of silvery blood where Malum had fallen as he vanished in a flash of light.

He appeared in his personal teleporter and was immediately besieged with reports. Of them all, only two got his interest. A large town full of bloodless bodies, all sliced to tiny pieces, often alongside the buildings they were in or near. And an entire city full of people messily torn apart, many of them impaled on stakes.

He frowned deeply, "So the Angel Of Death and The Crimson King walk the earth once more." he muttered to himself. Evidently Walter had become a vampire: he would need to bind or kill them both. Alucard is simply to bloodthirst and insane to ever join of his own will and Walter has evidently gone off the deep end as well. He pondered this as he walked about, attempting to find Hiad. By the fact that nothing appeared to be on fire, he had probably done a good job managing the base.

He found Hiad sobbing over several massive stacks of paperwork. Upon noticing his leader had returned his bloodshot and twitching eyes lit up. "Commander! Ahahahaha! All this beautiful paper work is waiting for you!" Alexander nearly killed him on the spot, until a downright malevolent smile spread across his face.

"Ah, Hiad. Just the Skaven I was looking for. See, I realised that I am primarily a front lines fighter. Which means I need someone to handle all the bureaucratic aspects while I'm away. Of course, all the most important things I will need to handle; but it seems you're quite good at paperwork. So I'm putting you in charge of this base and its operations."

He twitched. His head jerked to the side 45 degrees and righted itself several times. His smile grew to insane proportions, teeth seeming like razors. His eyes gleamed with an unnatural light.

Alexander whistled as he shut the door behind him, ignoring the way the door's shadow seemed to stretch towards him. "Any idea why, by the rotting corpse o' God, did I stop regenerating while fighting Malum?"

"Fucker probably used enhanced versions of those nanites he had during your first battle. Cheatin' shitbag."

"No such thing as cheating in real life."

"Aye, that's what I thought at first. But then, why didn't it work during our first clash o' the day?"

"Perhaps he simply only started using the improved version in the last clash? Or perhaps the nanites had to build up in your system before they kicked in?"

"Little fuck was too fuckin' crazy to even contemplate switchin' ammo at that point."

'But wouldn't my healin' factor have overrid the little cunts before they could do anything?"

"Hmmm, Perhaps… Perhaps they weren't recognized as a threat until they attacked?"

'Nae, my body pushes out foreign matter unless I purposefully allow it. Even if the nanites weren't doing anything, they would have been attacked just for being there."

"Perhaps… perhaps he, or this "council" he spoke of, found some way to hide them from your automatic healing? Maybe give it fake permission to be there?"

Alexander frowned in thought, idly watching his minions work/tinker with strange and as of yet unidentified machines to try and figure out what they actually did and how they worked.

"I Doubt those pissbag faggots are done fucking with us. A group with those kinds of resource doesn't just go away unless you exterminate every last mother fucking one of them. They're like fuckin' roaches."

Alexander ducked as he saw one of the machines start to shake and glow; poking his head out after the smoke began to clear. Meh, only a couple nameless Skaven and one useless machine (They they had more than one of that particular piece of junk) were lost; nothing too important.