Title: Goodnight and Thank You
Description: [Open to SHIELD/Thunderbolts]
Spiral - April 1, 2012 06:16 AM (GMT)
This room, this grand chamber or sorts, is where Hill had seen fit to house her newly made Homunculus. The enslaved mind of Spiral had, for the most part, been reigned in fully under her rule. Though initially almost docile, faint whisperings of that odd, dark, and unstable personality had, of late, begun to peak through. Given the boosts that the procedures had unlocked within her already mysterious powers, any risk of those murderous tendencies resurfacing in full was treated as a threat of the highest caliber.
"Endopod sterilizing." A computerized voice mused thoughout the large chamber.
Spiral stood, eyes shut against the world, her brain quieted by the controls installed by Hill's doctors. A button was pressed, those bright eyes flared into stark white brilliance as the lids raised, though despite their odd unnatural beauty the rest of her face was much as it always was these days. Blank, unemotional, empty.
"Endopod preparation complete." The computer mused again.
That hushed casket where she was kept, sometimes for days, was keen on rewriting priorities, on reorganizing ideals and inhibitions and reservations. It had become a second home to her.
"Proceed into the endopod, please." Said one of the technicians. "Slowly please, it's cycles are still calibrating.
She stepped forward as the lid rose, a single arm welcoming her into a week-long embrace of darkness and re-education.
At the precipice, she stopped.
No response came.
"Spiral! Proceed into the Endopod."
She turned to face them.
"Shut her off." Spat the technician, the guards in the chamber already arming their weaponry.
Gordon Fidner, the head tech uttered a phrase that served as her conditioning's primer. She took a step forwards. Guns rose to the eyes of their bearers. He flipped the remote switch that would activate that conditioning that was drilled into her skull for the last seven months. She did not stop.
For all their wizardry, these scientists failed to recognize one factor. She was born of Mojo and his Men. And it was only Mojo and his Men who knew how to finick with the mind of a man made Goddess.
"Snowden! Snowden!" The Technician barked that primer phrase over and over again, but she still did not stop. "Spiral! We will engage that chip. Stand down now!"
The silver-haired woman shook her head. "No."
"This is your last warning!" Barked Fidner.
"Promise?" She grinned in defiance, spinning her arms in some strange fluid motion.
Fidner felt something shift in his skull. Was she going in his mind? No, she wasn't telepathic. Something was terribly wrong. With a sudden dawning realization, Fidner's eyes grew wide.
"Don't engage that chip! Don't! No! NOOO-"
An explosion wracked the chamber as Fidner's head detonated with the force of several of SHIELD's Thunderbolt control chips.
Chips the rest of her fellows were suddenly without.
A ballet ensued, ricochet twangs and whipping tracers filling the room. She was perfection, however, the height of her father's work, and with each and every twist of her lithe frame she warped through space and time, bent probability over her knee to abuse as one might abuse any sort of raw power. They could not touch her, and by the time that the loudness of the firefight was done, not a soul stood on two legs but her, and clutching two of their fine weapons in her hands, Spiral moved to the emergency call box.
An alarm soon began to blare, suddenly accomapnied by her voice.
"Attention Thunderbolts. I, Spiral, your new best pal, have seen fit to start a little party today. The occasion? Why, my advent of course. But, instead of asking for a present I'm giving one to all of you. Choice. Your SHIELD overlords will soon find that you're without your precious little chips. Your fate is for you to decide. Have fun."
The emergency PA line went dead.
Sabretooth - April 1, 2012 05:56 PM (GMT)
For all of Victor Creed's reputation as a mindless, savage killing machine, he knew the ins and outs of the hunt better than anyone else. He knew when it was appropriate to burst into a rush of speed and strength, he knew when it was appropriate to go for the gut, go for the throat, go for the ankles even.
And he knew when it was time to be patient. To bide his time. After his little discussion with Spiral some time back, he'd kept to his routine of quiet non-compliance. It was the wisest course of action, naturally. If he'd suddenly become all cooperative, if he suddenly became Johnny-on-the-Spot, yes-sir no-ma'am, salute the flag and whistle Yankee Doodle SHIELD agent supreme, they'd know something was up. They'd know that this sudden switch in behavior was suspicious and they'd take steps to stop the inevitable.
So he waited, minding his own business and doing nothing to volunteer his efforts - not like Mala, not like Juggernaut who seemed all too eager to play hero. He was simply just going to wait. Bide his time. The opportune moment would come and he would take advantage when it did. But until it did, patience would have to be his prime virtue - as much as it gnawed away at his insides.
And there it was - the alarm. Her voice. The chaos he'd craved, it had come. He knew it would, so long as he was patient. The left side of his mouth lifted upward, revealing just the slightest bit of fang as he stood from his seat in the commons area, eyes slowly closing and then reopening.
He had two options. Slaughter indiscriminately, kill a bunch of these smarmy little SHIELD motherfuckers and go down in a blaze of blood and guts and glory...
Or he could commandeer an escape vehicle and get the hell outta dodge. Go home for the first time in... how long had it been? A year? Longer? Hell if he knew. Time had a way of becoming fluid in this damn place.
Option two was the best way to go. He began calmly walking towards the nearest launch bay, and just let any of those SHIELD punks try to get in his way. He wanted them to. He craved the violence so long denied him.
Mala Suerte - April 1, 2012 08:50 PM (GMT)
Zita had been on the treadmill in the workout area when suddenly the alarms went off. She paused the machine and slid off the back of it wondering what the hell was going on. The agents in the room stopped whatever they were doing and sprang into action. Was the base under attack or something? How in the hell could that be? They were floating around in the sky at an undisclosed location. She then got her answer when Spiral’s voice came over the intercom system. She instinctively reached back and touched her neck as if she would actually be able to feel it. Somehow their control chips were removed with any of them even realizing it. “The hell kind of voodoo is that bitch working with?” she asked no one in particular. Zita wiped the sweat from her forehead with the towel and tossed it aside. Two of the guards turned to her with worried expressions.
The one thing that kept her at bay for so long was now gone. Their power over Zita had been ripped away. She eyed them both, her fists clenched. This was her chance. This was the moment she had been waiting for since being captured. Zita had a way to escape the prison and live her life as she wanted to once again. All she had to do was break both them in half, run, and destroy anyone else in her path to freedom. But… she found herself not wanting to do that. Zita played back several therapy sessions in her mind. She thought about what this would mean if she decided to take advantage. Freedom was the prize, but was it really freedom if she was still considered a criminal? Zita would be on the run never able to rest comfortably. And lately she had been resting pretty damn well. “Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?!”
She took hold of the metal handlebar of the treadmill. A second later her body was composed of steel. “Well,” she addressed the guards, “what the hell are you just standing there for? Go catch that crazy broad before she escapes. You don’t have to worry about me pulling anything.” The decision was made. Zita still had a ways to go before she was ready to quit this program. All of that progress made was not about to be tossed down the toilet. But she wondered what Cain would think, what he wanted to do. She did not have a problem if it came to a fight between her and the others, but Cain was another story. Zita hoped that she would not have to decide between love and rehabilitation.
Henry Orchard - April 1, 2012 09:10 PM (GMT)
Since botching the New York mission Henry had been kept off the active deployment roster. It was supposed to be relegation but he couldn’t help but feel relieved when he’d been told that he’d be assisting with training and education. So, for the past five weeks he’d spent most of his time preparing briefings on old STRIKE cases and lectures on whatever miscellaneous topics he could successfully pitch to the senior instructor.
At first it had been a little rocky, his initial enthusiasm had been quickly stamped out by his students who either couldn’t give a crap about what he had to say or were decidedly unimpressed by Henry’s performance in the field. Early on more than a few people had walked out and sometimes he’d even had to weather verbal abuse. This had made Henry exceedingly angry, to the point where he’d stalked around M-Div with a scowl on his face for days on end. Eventually he scrapped his entire teaching schedule, drew up a new one and implemented it without informing anybody. Lectures were replaced with practical demonstrations, exercises in observation, lateral thinking, deductive reasoning and any other cruel and unusual revenge Henry could think of.
The sudden change in curriculum went unnoticed for weeks until Henry misappropriated some LMD units and used to them to convince a room of new recruits that there were all secretly robots. There had been some discussion in the faculty and it had been decided that while an unorthodox teaching style was suited the unusual world that SHIELD inhabited it was probably best practiced on students who were somewhat more… resilient. To this end he’d been reassigned again, this time to the Meta-Human training division and then only in a consulting role. This suited Henry just fine. It was interesting work, safe but not entirely unexciting, and he didn’t actually have to deal with any students.
Presently, he was running through his correspondence with one of the instructors at Conrad. There was an issue with disparity in ability between the students. Some were breezing through the exercises and others were struggling the make the grade. Finding a balance was going to be difficult and since they couldn’t employ a grade curve it was looking like they were going to have to tailor training to individuals. He was about to start on a reply when the PA crackled to life and a familiar voice came over it. Henry went white.
For about five minutes his brain refused to work. The space inside his skull seemed to yawn and hum, in response to this sensation his senses flooded the empty space it made with information. For a second he could hear everything, see everything, the feeling of the chair underneath him blossomed from ambient pressure to a detailed map of textures. As suddenly as the shock had come he snapped back to reality. He leapt from his desk and practically threw himself at the door of his cabin, scattering his work as he went. He heard his laptop smash and some quiet part of himself was appalled to note that the rest of him didn’t give a shit. Out the door he broke into a run. His emergency station was at M-Div control, he needed to get there. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do when he did but it was paramount nonetheless. In situations like this protocol was paramount. Even if it did mean he’d have to pass near the outer access to the Thunderbolt Lockdown.
Cain Marko - April 2, 2012 12:54 AM (GMT)
Like Zita, he was in the workout area; however he was in the specially designed weight room that let him push himself in ways a normal gym ever would. He was calm as his muscles bulged while pushing against a pneumatic press that was, according to the techs and readouts, generating somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred tons directly against him. "75, 76, 78, 79, 80." It never ceased to amaze him how it never ceased to amaze normal people to see him in action; it was just a normal thing in his eyes, but then again he'd been a mutant for a long time.
He was still going when alarms sounded and lights began flashing. He was as surprised as everyone else overseeing his session, and as he jumped up, the piston dropped to the platform he was no longer sitting on and probably shook a good portion of the Hellicarrier. The techs and soldiers in the room with him instantly readied their weapons and pointed them at him; specialized things designed to take him down. With Spiral's voice over the intercom, he understood what was going on.
She'd not only removed their control chips, but now they were in a position of power. Most, if not all of the remaining Thunderbolts could be considered a a one man army; he himself was more like a siege engine, but the concept was the same. Without anything to control them, they'd lost their greatest asset against them, and now the Thunderbolts were once again a danger to everyone on board the Hellicarrier. "Now, now boys...don't do anything you'll regret. Because without that chip, you can guarantee whatever you do won't stop me for long...if at all."
He took one step forward, then another, then another. He broke into a run not long after that and brushed one guard violently aside before he busted through the wall and into the corridor leading to the main area. The door didn't open fast enough and the two sliding pieces were knocked away as he made his way through. He'd planned on continuing until he found Zita or ran right out into open air; he found Zita first. She was standing there, the color of steel and looking like she was expecting a fight. "Z...come on, we can get out!!!" As excited as his words were, they felt hollow coming out of his mouth. Like he really didn't feel what he portrayed. Was he having second thoughts?
Stature - April 2, 2012 01:40 AM (GMT)
"Everybody bunker down! Get those barricades out now, come on!" Her XO barked over the blaring sirens and klaxon. Cassie helped her fellow agents hoist the large hooded metal barricade, moving it with several others at the end of the embanked corridor that lead into SHIELD lockdown. She had an issued firearm at her back, one she didn't hope to use. She wasn't the surest of shots, and even now so long as she'd been here she'd never yet killed anyone.
Radios buzzed and blared with orders coming from the different parts of the ship. Things were about to go from bad to worse, it seemed.
"Juggernaut and Mala Suerte are in the Thunderbolts Gymnasium. Juggernaut is not complying with orders, we need backup now, damnit!"
She barked acknowledgement and looked to her commander. He spoke back. "Hold the damn line, we'll get people to you ASAP."
"Hold the line?" The trooper came back. "Are you serious?!"
"You heard me, Soldier."
Cassie shook her head. Juggs and Mala, plus Sabertooth and Balam likely not far off. Spiral could literally be anywhere, or even gone by now. There was no way those men in there were going to get out unscathed, even if they did have powers, which given the size of M-Div's facilities, she doubted most of them did.
"Sir!" she said, moving to the man. "Requesting permission to take a squad in."
"Agent Lang, I'm not sending you in there to get butchered. Let us get some armor here and we'll talk about what's going to happen."
"With all due Respect, Commander Taggart, those men are dead in there if they don't get help fast."
"You have your orders, Agent Lang."
She gave the man a fowl grimace and moved back to her position as she spied Orchard entering the premises. Huddling into a low run across the Tbolts Access Hall, she signaled him, tossing him her assault rifle. She was fine with her pistol. She didn't need it. Nope.
"Most of them are still inside, but we've got word that they aren't sure if Juggernaut's compliant. Have you seen Spiral?"
That name gave her brief pause to look around, as if just speaking her name would goad her out of the walls, which, well, it very well could.
Feedback - April 2, 2012 02:14 AM (GMT)
The state of the Helicarrier was chaotic to say the least. Agents were scattering to set up perimeters and locate all of the Thunderbolts that were now on the loose thanks to the one known as Spiral. The most she knew about her was the fact that she could teleport and was a dangerous assassin. Reina had been ordered, along with four other agents, to help secure the aerial vehicles in the launch bays. No doubt the criminals would try to use them to escape. She was forced to think about her sister and what must have been running through her mind now. Reina had been keeping close tabs on the woman and knew that she truly wanted to turn her life around. If she decided to join in on this escape attempt all of that would be tossed out the window. She knew Zita better than anyone else present. Her big sister would not accept this escape. It would be taking the easy route and that was something she never knew her to do.
The chips in the prisoners had somehow been removed so there was no relying on them to keep the dangerous people in order. It was going to take some old school authority and firearms to take care of them. Reina shouldered an assault rifle as the team trotted down the long corridor making their way to Launch Bay B. As soon as the team hit the corner they saw a monstrous mutant heading right in their direction. Sabretooth. He was probably considered the most dangerous next to the Juggernaut. All agents trained their weapons on him.
“Get down on the ground now or we will fire!” shouted the leader.
The guy had an incredible healing factor that made it possible for him to survive being riddled with holes. Hopefully if it came to that, the bullets would at least be enough to slow him down so they could apprehend him. Reina dropped to one knee in front of the others. She had only taken one life since becoming part of this organization, but she was prepared to drop Sabretooth like a sack of bricks if he did not comply.
Henry Orchard - April 3, 2012 09:47 PM (GMT)
Cassandra Lang was a welcome sight to be sure and her assault rifle doubly so. In a rare feat of physical prowess caught the weapon by the fore grip and ducked into cover with Lang. He was only familiar with the weapon having had a few sessions with it on the firing range. He just about knew how it worked and could make the bullets go in vaguely the right direction, still it was something of a comfort to no longer be unarmed and totally vulnerable. He tucked the weapon up into a firing position and carefully drew back the bolt. The sharp sound of a bullet rolling up into the chamber seemed to take another edge off his nerves.
"Most of them are still inside, but we've got word that they aren't sure if Juggernaut's compliant. Have you seen Spiral?"
Henry’s reaction to Spiral’s name was much the same as Lang’s, his eyes flitted around the corners of the room and his grip tightened on the rifle. Their many-armed colleague (for the lack of a better word) had a taste for dramatic irony and do doubt she’d jump at the chance to make an entrance like that.
“No,” he whispered “It was clear all the way down here from my bunk.”.
He peered over the lip of the barricade at the last bulkhead separating them from the Thunderbolt facilities. So far it looked intact, no sign of violent escape although he assumed it was only a matter of time.
“Although, you know, I don’t think she worries about moving around like we do. She could be anywhere. Anywhere at all.”
He did not add that as long as she was anywhere but here he’d be more than happy about it. As long as any of them were anywhere but here he’d be bloody elated. What was he going to do against a pack of the world’s most dangerous professional killers? Make pretty shapes and colours at them while they went paddling in his blood? He hoped, desperately, that Lang knew what to do.
“So I take it we’re holding here then?”
Jara - April 4, 2012 04:48 AM (GMT)
They moved down the hallway in a silent procession, following the helicarrier equivalent of the yellow brick road to see the wonderful wizard of Oz. Well, Dr. Oz. Not the health facts-spouting daytime TV personality, of course not, but a skinnier, less popular and successful and wealthy incarnation, whose shortcomings Jara never failed to point out. Government jobs never paid as well as the private sector, regardless of those paltry little pension funds that waited for them after a life of underpaid government work. Military doctors were no better than butchers, she told him, seeing them frequently in her own fieldwork. Success wasn’t so much measured in patient health and healing rates but how many appendages they could saw off in an hour. And by those standards, Balam deserved the Nobel Prize in Medicine.
The yellow line on the floor wove down the metal corridors of the Thunderbolts wing and away from its heart, intertwining and diverging from the other color-coded paths that led off to different portions of the helicarrier. The military likes keeping its tools in top shape, and Balam was no exception. However, the feral was no fool and knew these visits had less to do with her well-being and more about research and study, or at the very least building a little biological sample bank to easily reference and trace her and the rest of her felonious teammates. Flanked by two officers, personnel had grown very comfortable with the reassurance of that chip welded to her skull. Their guns were more of an obligation, a formality, than anything else. Not when they had a potent little head explosive at the press of a button. Balam was more than aware of that piece of leverage against her, and ever since the chip had been repurposed from its original shocking intent, SHIELD’s toy soldiers had seen a drastic reduction in lost limbs. She remained very much human – no fangs, no claws, no blatant badge of mutancy. It made her handlers feel safer, less hostile, and Jara knew better than to antagonize the jailer.
The changeling strolled very quietly and very obediently down the corridor without incident, at least until a strange sensation bloomed in the back of her head, like some tiny, constant pressure had been alleviated. Green eyes narrowed and she turned to glance over her shoulder at one of the soldiers, who responded with a frown.
“Problem?” he asked sternly, hands tensing their grip on his weapon. Balam continued her sidelong stare. Something definitely did not feel right, and by the time the alarm and intercom crackled to life, Jara had stopped, her escorts motionless as the previously docile clone proved to be much more independent and calculating than ever imagined. Just hearing Spiral’s voice signaled that things had changed. The trio remained silent, or as silent as they could manage. Breaths whispered in her ears, their quickening pulses thundering, tendons clenching and popping as the two officers at her back tensed. She could taste their dread.
She could taste freedom.
A boot shot out and struck the officer to her left in the throat with crushing precision, cartilage crumpling beneath the blow. He fell like a sack of bricks. Her lithe figure bent and twisted in the air, leaving him staggered and rasping as the other shouted and pulled his pistol. She had to give these men credit. They were trained well. They were the elite that this military had to offer. But at the end of the day, they were still pitifully human, and there was no way they could compete with her naturally evolved speed.
The feral lashed out, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling forward, pinning the other officer’s arm against her side. Twist. Crack. Scream. His arm was broken, gun useless, bullet fire roaring off harmlessly to the side while his fingers still clenched the trigger until it finally clattered to the floor. While weapons were the easy way out, the thrill of a fight drove Balam on with a much more physical beating. His pulse was frantic, his agonized cries a song, and the alarms in the background? A siren’s call, goading her further into the red-tinged depths of bloodlust.
Her elbow flew, striking once, twice, into the side of his jaw. Stupid tiny feral size. The feral snarled, turning as powerful legs shot up again, surging forward with a pounce. Jara grabbed that exposed head of his with a clawed hand, sending a knee crashing up into his face. Bones crunched and shattered, his pretty visage regretfully caving in. And it caved in more as the pair toppled backward onto the ground, Jara on top and bringing her full weight on his skull.
Far from forgetting her remaining playmate, Jara picked up his partner’s discarded gun from the ground. He rasped, grasping at the communicator on his collar to undoubtedly send a distress call.
“Ah ah ahhh,” Balam purred, walking over and slamming her foot into his head, then taking aim.
CLICK CLICK CLICK MOTHERFUCKING CLICK.
“What kind of shit do you people use!” Jara snarled, her temper only worsening with the punch-drunken laugh at her feet.
The tiny feral’s scowl only deepened, until a savage roar ripped from her throat, growing in intensity with each stomp on the fallen soldier’s head. Her fury subsided eventually, Balam wiping the bottom of her shoe on the motionless corpse but still glaring hard at the deceased officer. Fingerprints. Hmph.
Her eyes drifted down his limp arm, hand resting almost welcomingly open…
The alarm continued buzzing, Balam’s ears coping already with the loud nuisance. Survival was all about adaptation, after all. Using the colored lines as her guide, the feral sprinted down the corridors for the armory, a shiny Glock already at her disposal. And hey, she already got an extra hand to help, donated by one of her most helpful escorts. Jara couldn’t help but give a bloodied grin.
Spiral - April 4, 2012 06:22 AM (GMT)
"Get a god damned bead on her now!" Belted the squad captain as he lead his tactics group down the hall. "I want her pinpointed and dead ten minutes ago."
The M-Div Supplement put a finger to his head. "Sir, she's bouncing too much, there's no way we can get any sort of solid track on her. My telepathy's not Jean-Grey level, you know."
This was chaos. The Thunderbolts were loose and it sounded like most if not all of them had cast aside any hope for redemption in favor of freedom from the punishments that each of them had well and duly earned.
"What compartments do we have secured in the Tbolt Lockdown?"
"Sir, that whole department is No Man's Land. Commander Chaffey isn't letting anyone in or out, hopes to contain them."
"Does he realize the woman leading this revolt is a Tier 5 Teleporter?"
"Sir. I don't know sir. He says he's got his orders."
"Who the hell gave him those?" The squad leader growled as they stacked up at a corner. Suddenly, the lights went dim.
"Attention, Hellicarrier, it's you're glorious Master of Ceremonies again, here with an update. I've just found this control room, it's pretty sleek and full of dead people. Better yet, I've found a very interesting button. Let's see what it does?"
Down in the brig, where the non-super criminals were kept while waiting on transfer, several cell doors opened. As the inmates stepped out, the chance they'd been given suddenly dawned on them.
"Oh, and I've also turned off everything but emergency systems. So, sorry for the darkness but it only adds to the masterpiece I'm building. Oup! Someone's at the door. Talk to you in a bit!"
Squad Leader Harris cursed as he radioed Central. "Central, come in, this is Harris on D-Level, I need a sit-rep and new orders. She's blacked out the entire ship."
"No shit, Corporal." Came a voice at the other end. "Stand by."
"Stand by and what, wait until -hrk!"
Corporal Harris' body slid down the wall, his head precariously balanced on top of the blade. When she pulled it from the steel bulkhead, it dropped like a melon to the ground with a sickening thud.
The tactics squad raised their weapons, but all was for naught, three consecutive blasts of yellow-white energy blowing each of them backwards down the hall.
Daniel Tucker was having an amazing day. New promotion, his wedding was on track, and he'd gotten his Audi out of the shop for lest than he'd thought it would cost. As he walked out of the Starbucks with his Triple Grande Soy Mocha Chai Latte, he had a bit of pep in his step that he wasn't used to. Crossing the street, he stopped at the fender of his car, giving it an enthusiastic breath and wiping a smudge clean before whipping out his keys and rounding to the driver's side door.
Opening the door he heard a strange noise up above, and looking back, his eyes went wide and he jumped backwards, coffee spilling everywhere as a human body, decked out in military gear, slammed through the roof of his car, splattering blood and hammered bone everywhere. Down the street, it happened again, and again. Ten men fell from the sky, pelting Watts Street with a rain of flesh.
"Attention, former Thunderbolts. If you want a ride on the Spiral Express, all you need to do is ask. You have twenty minutes, give or take. I've got something to do."
Looking at the blue lead line on the floor, her glowing eyes traced it up ahead, the legend color coded in bold primaries hinting at her destination. Walking by it, she sheathed her SHIELD issued swords at her back, passing by the stark stenciled letters.
Sabretooth - April 4, 2012 04:06 PM (GMT)
"Heh," Sabretooth's head tilted to the left, producing an audible crackle of bone accentuated by the light ping of metal, muffled by muscle and skin. A whole little platoon all for himself, with one of the special little super-agents to boot. He'd gotten to knowing all of them, through observation, through overheard chatter - all part of the Weapon X infiltration programming. Listen. Learn. Counter. Feedback, powers of really loud noises. Hell on someone with his level of sensitivity to sound, but it's not like he'd never had his eardrums blown out before. Not like he needed to hear for the five, maybe ten minutes it'd take to kill every last one of them.
He stopped in his tracks as the order was given out, but he did not 'get down on the ground'.
"You do realize that's where I'm headed, right?" he chuckled, smirk growing a bit wider into almost a full grin.
"Tell ya what. I'm feelin' a bit generous, so I'll give ya two options. One: the whole lot of ya steps aside, lets me go past ya and get to where I'm goin'. Two: you do yer patriotic duty an' try to stop me - and die in the process. That ain't a maybe. That's a promise. You go up against me, you will not survive. Ain't personal, just the way it's gotta be. Don't mean I won't enjoy it, though."
He glanced to the young woman, the super-agent. Feedback.
"Ain't no reason a pretty little thing like you gotta die yet. Would yer boyfriend want you throwin' yerself in my way? Sacrificin' yer life for the noble cause of slowing me down a few moments? This ain't an offer I'm usually in the business of makin', so... think hard on it."
And then the lights went out. For the agents, this would be problematic. For Sabretooth, not in the slightest bit.
"Looks like yer choice got all the more crucial, boys an' girls. Clock's a' tickin', an' I ain't got all day. What's it gonna be?"
Spiral's announcement broadcast over the Helicarrier's PA systems, and Sabretooth couldn't help but laugh.
That's my girl.
Stature - April 4, 2012 10:55 PM (GMT)
"Supposed to be." She said to Orchard in a hushed whisper. That was all that seemed to be allowed right now. The rest of them were just as antsy, waiting here to see if the escapees would burst through the doors. Nothing came, and she grimaced.
"Commander Chaffey wants the whole block locked down, nobody in or out, thinks he's going to just wait them out. That's stupid, Henry, they've got a teleporter running the show, she doesn't use doors."
Stature looked over the lip of the barricade. The hall was silent. Suddenly radios chattered to life and the hurried shouts of several groups could be heard, each one chilling and frightening as backup was called for, the requests denied.
"This is bullshit!" She said, standing and moving over to her Commander, who seemed none too pleased, and even annoyed.
"Permission to speak freely, Commander."
"Stature, get back to your post."
"Sir you have people dying in there and you won't lift a finger."
"Listen up, Lang. I've been at this longer than you. I might now shoot lighting out of my hands but I've got more experience and more knowledge on this. These people will walk up and down us the second those doors are open."
"Sir, we've got the whole of M-Div right here."
"Lang this isn't up for debate, return to your post or I'll have you courtmartialed faster than you can say I quit."
"Sir, please. Let me take in a Squad."
"Last chance, Lang. I'm not about to go toe-to-toe with Victor Creed because you feel you're damn honor's in question."
"Sir... Yes sir." She said.
"You're a goddamned coward." She thought.
Walking away, she moved back to Orchard. "Henry. If I die, get ahold of Peggy Burdick and tell her I'm sorry."
She gave Orchard a squeeze at the shoulder. "Wish me luck." In an instant, she was invisible, well, mostly, and into a vent she went, running as fast as someone could at a mere four inches of height.
Within minute she emerged on the other side of the door. No going back now. Unholstering her pistol, she headed into the Lockdown. The lights dimmed and Spiral adressed them once again.
She walked down the dark corridor, gun at the ready.
"Reina." she whispered. "I'm working my way there..."
The sounds of conflict rose up down the corridor. She tensed and turned, heading into the bleak unknown as the alarms provided a soundtrack for trek.
Mala Suerte - April 5, 2012 03:13 AM (GMT)
The ground began to shake at a steady pace. “Shit,” she said. Cain was on the move and that meant he must have decided to take advantage of the breakout. A moment later his body came crashing right into the room disregarding the commands of the agents behind him. Zita stood firm as she stared him down, the man that had her heart in a tight grip. He wanted to be done with this place just like the others. Now would probably be the only time they would get to escape and Cain was not passing up. “No,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere, Cain. I don’t give a shit how much I talked about escaping in the past; things are different now. If you want to leave I won’t stand in your way. But please… don’t make me have to choose.” It would tear her up. Zita did not need anymore emotional trauma in her life. She had just gotten over the guilt and anguish of the shit she had done in the past and some of it even still lingered.
“So what’s it gonna be?” She realized that the decision would hurt him just as much. The lights of the compound suddenly went out blanketing the entire area in darkness outside of the flashing sirens. Anything being done or said right now was ignored. Her focus was on Cain Marko.
The men behind him were still regrouping, but they wouldn’t be for long. They’d press whatever advantage they could get and would be on his back in no time flat. He hoped he’d made a decision by then, because if they tried to stop him, he might be forced to go a bit further than he’d been allowing himself lately…freedom was worth it though, wasn’t it? As he stared down the woman he’d come to consider one of the most important parts of his life; that tunnel vision effect kicked in and everything else went unnoticed. The alarms, the orders shouted and cries for help; everything became a distant thought as he focused on her and her alone, waiting for her answer. ”No.” Her answer was…it was no. How could she say no? She said to forget what she said in the past, that things were different now. She wouldn’t stop him if he kept on going, just left. Not that she or anyone else physically could; but that ultimatum really rooted him to the spot. Continue on to freedom without the person he wanted to share it with…or stay in captivity with the only person who really mattered.
As easy a choice as that seemed to be, there was enough inner turmoil to turn most men. Whatever he did, he needed to do it quick because he was sure at least one or two SHIELD telepaths were on their way to shut him down where directly applied force failed like it always did. She didn’t want him to have to choose, but was giving him a choice. How hypocritical, but he wasn’t one to talk. He took a step forward, then another. There was no build up of speed though, he just walked up to her, ignoring the whine of the large pulse rifles trained on his back. He continued to ignore the orders, even when he felt the heavy artillery slugs and energy slamming into his back.
He finally turned and stared at his attackers; his first thought was to charge them and leave smears on the floor, but Zita was more important, so he turned back to her. “We could get outta here!! Live our lives, not be attack dogs.” As many arguments as he made though, he knew that once she had her mind set, it was set…nothing could changed that. “You’re really set on stayin huh? I guess I am too. Don’t make me regret this though, or I’ll punch a hole in somethin.” He smiled at her as the agents continued to attack and try to subdue him. “Should we uh, do something about them? My shirt can’t take much more a this before it’s just scraps on my back.”
“Trust me, sweetie. You won’t.” Zita was so relieved that he had decided to stick by her side and not become a wanted fugitive. Physically she was not able to stop the man, but emotionally she was a dominating force. She stood on her toes and kissed him before looking to the men firing on him. “Hey vatos! We’re on your side so stop being so damn stupid, unless you want us to kick ya asses!” A stray beam from a pulse rifle knocked her head back. She sighed heavily and stared at the agents. “Really? Come on, baby. Let’s go round up the criminals crazy eyes let loose before they flip this joint.”
“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed her back, then looked over his shoulder and saw the pulse beam heading towards them then hit Zita in the head. She wasn’t seriously harmed because she’d luckily absorbed some metal earlier, but it pissed her off and it damn sure pissed him off. He stayed silent and followed her, but he looked at the agent who’d hit here and narrowed his eyes; two fingers pointed at him with the universal gesture that he was being watched…he’d do well to remember that. “Stoppin Spiral’s gonna be damn near impossible; girl jumps all over creation like a spider monkey. Let’s focus on someone easier to take down.”
Spiral - April 5, 2012 05:18 AM (GMT)
JP With Spiral and Maria Hill
“Last three sightings give us the idea that she’s heading here, Director. We don’t know why she hasn’t just jumped away by now.” The Ensign looked at his bank of monitors on the Hellicarrier bride. Chaos was unfolding everywhere. Most of the ship was running solely on emergency power, the Brig was opened, and worse, the Super-Powered Villain Crème de la Crème were running loose.
“She could be here any second, Director.”
The myriad SHIELD agents on the Bridge Deck were scrambling around with security protocols and issuing orders to the agents throughout the Helicarrier. Pandemonium had only just begun to set in, but those here were armed and ready, or so they thought.
Pulses of light flashed around the chamber, and with each receding mote of light another SHIELD agent vanished, or lost a limb, or fell in a heap with a neck turned too far around. The lightshow continued for several seconds until only Hill and the presence of the dying’s moans were there to accompany the thrumming hum of the massive flying ship.
Her odd voice had lost that slave’s drone. She was up at the observation window, looking around at the water below and the city on the horizon. Decked out in swords and firearms, a peculiar helmet sat on top of her head. “I don’t rightly know who Ken Harada is or why you have a case for him, but I saw this hat in Evidence and I gotta say, he has wonderful taste in apparel.”
She turned, eyes glowing beneath the visor of her headgear. “How are you, ol’ buddy?”
"She hasn't jumped because she's not finished here," Hill said as she prepared herself for Spiral's approach. "She wants something, or she wants to do something. Priority one is that we take her down. Priority two is that she's breathing when we do it. In that order."
They circled her in a fashion fitting to their training. But it wasn't long before that training betrayed them. One by one, the souped up woman took them out. Quick as lightning, invisible as a shadow, she ripped through Hill's defense with the ease of a knife cutting through warm butter. Until finally, it was only those two. Spiral stopped then, only then taking the time to savor her apparent victory.
"I'll be a lot better once you're under control. We spent a lot of money on you. I'm not about to call that a loss."
There was a knowing smile of Spiral's face, as though her victory her was all but assured. And, for all intents and purposes, it was. She was a killing machine. Hill had seen to that herself. And who was Hill to stop her? Just a baseline human with no abilities to speak of. Of course, it wasn't that cut and dry.
"You think it's going to be easy, don't you? You think just because you took these Agents down without so much as breaking a sweat that I'm going to fall at your feet and beg for mercy? I'm old school darling. I was trained by Nick Fury. So, I hope you came to play."
She pulled a pair of guns from her belt and began firing. This would not stop Spiral of course, but that wasn't all she had. Hill pushed a button pinned near the collar of her shirt. A pulse, loud and designed for Spiral's particular hearing capacity, shot through the room.
"I know everything about you Spiral. I've studied every inch of who and what you are." She walked closer, refilling her guns. "Can you hear that, bitch?" she asked. "Because I can't."
Spiral quirked a brow as she moved back and forth at the forefront of the bridge, eying the controls with an inquisitive nature while Hill talked her talk. A metallic finger ran along the controls panel that operated the massive rear turbings. Her grin went wide as Hill's defiant tone grew in marvel and stature. The woman turned her head. "It's really sad then that Nick Fury never met me."
The famliar rustling of guns leaving hoslters clued her in, and as bullets rained forth she jumped in and out of existence, speeding along the spaces between time as she bounced around the room. Glass shattered, steel punctured, and wiring clusters sparked in the flurry of gunfire. As she came to a rest while Hill reloaded, she grinned, looking at her shoulder and her arm where blood streeked from grazed skin.
"Oooh. The only person who's ever managed that is my brother. You should be proud."
She blinked once again, and as she descended out of the nothingness in the air above Hill, a sword came to bear with it's keening age swinging back to build momentum. But then something, on the edge of percept. Dull and mute at first but now growing louder by the moment.
"Argh!" She let out a cry as she twisted, vanishing from sight and reappearing at the end of the aisle of control bays. "Nrgh!" She blinked in and out, never leaving that spot, unable to focus on moving anywhere. "Gaaah! What.."
She looked up towards Hill, face twisted into a sneer of anger, a hand reaching towards her back for a gun. That sound was too much though, and as she dropped the pistol two of her hands gripped at her face, pulled at her hair. it was like a toothache in her brain. Too much all at once.
"I wouldn't try to move too much," Hill said. One gun was pointed at Spiral's head, the other at her chest. "It's not going to get any better. You see, there are any number of cues inside your body. They were put there for an occasion such as this."
Hill sported a smile of her own. "You didn't think we were going to tinker around inside your body without giving ourselves an insurance plan first, did you?"
She flipped her gun around in her hand and swung the but of it at Spiral, striking her across the face. "There are sensors in your pupils that react to a certain type of light. There are pellets in your arms that respond to a certain voltage of electricity and render them useless."
She leaned down to Spiral, looking her square in the face.
"You're mine. You always have been."
Hill's words were coming in muddled with the sound of that infernal screaming in her head. Looking up, she caught the grip of a pistol to her chin, sending her backwards to the floor, helmet spilling across the aisle. Teeth bared and gritted, she struggled to her side. Forced herself to wipe a trickle of red from her mouth.
And then she started to laugh.
"Heh heh heh..."
She pulled herself to her knees, burning eyes glaring down the barrel of Hill's gun. That slow chuckle turned into a cackle, then a guffaw. Then outright laughter. "I'm yours... you know someone else made that claim once." The break was brief but she continued in her sadistic giggle-fit. One hand came up, in it was a small chip.
"Look familiar? They're pretty uncomfortable in your head, but once you get them out it's reeeally liberating. Would you like to try it on?"
Hill began firing. She was almost point blank in range, but she knew that would not be enough. "I need backup at the bridge! Now!" she shouted into her communicator. Spiral had always been a force. It was why Hill got ahold of her in the first place. But the recent modifications made her all the more beastly. Hill knew that is she was going to have a chance, now that the chip she had been counting on was out of the picture, she was going to have to get creative.
She raced away from Spiral, dropping small metal pellets behind her. Alone, they released small electric fields, but strewn in the right allignment, and they could create a barrier, maybe one dtrong enough to hold Spiral. Hill made a sharp right, hoping to finish a small circle and lead Spiral into it.
Spiral danced around the spaces of the room a few moments, anything to get out of range of that sound and collect her thoughts, arriving behind a bay of consoles, she slammed her back against it low to the floor, pulling a set of guns. Running a finger along her ear she felt the blood running from one of them. She pulled at the strings of the room, trying to gauge by sound and awareness just where Hill was going. Popping up from cover, she fired a few shots, and when the Director juked around her own corner, she followed.
The welling up of some strange kinetic barrier sparked her flight and she vanished again. Hill turning the corner, Spiral grabbed the collar of her uniform in one cybernetic hand, crushing it as the sound subsided.
"I put the other control chips inside Doctor Chen's head. I saved mine for you. Let me show you a new trick, hm?" She raised another three fingered hand, the tips beginning to radiate with pulsing spacewarp energy. "You've unlocked my full potential, Hill. Goodnight, and Thank you."
Hill jerked against the Spiral's pull, but it was no use. She was too strong. Even without her recent adjustments, Spiral had strength well beyond that of a baseline human, even one trained by SHIELD.
Hill watched as glowing fingers neared her head. She reared back and gave Spiral a kick, though it didnt seem to count for much. Luckily, Fury had always taught her to keep more than one trick up her sleeve.
She inched her arm close to a hidden pocket on a flap at her coat, slowly so that Spiral would not realize but quickly enough to beat the woman's impending touch. With the push of a secret button, a volt of energy, the same voltage she had spoke of earlier, was sent through Spiral's body.
Hill fell to the ground as Spiral's arms were affected. The director of SHIELD snapped into action, pulling a blade from her back pocket and stabbing the center of Spiral's foot, piercing through it and pinning her to the ground.
The kick sent her backwards and Hill to the ground, bringing out a sword she moved to bring it down on her neck, but a sudden bolt of electricity sent her arms limp and useless. As the numbness began to wear off another problem presented itself as she felt Hill's knife drive through her foot, letting out a startled yelp of pain. Falling backwards she sat up and pulled it free with another grunt, using her robotic limbs to pull her along and behind cover, eying the wound briefly before considering her next move.
"You're good, Hill, but I'm running out of time here, and quite frankly you're not all that worth the trouble."
Spiral picked herself up and moved along the consoles, making odd gestures and fluid motions with her hands, trying to bring sensation back to them and generate as much spacewarp as she could. If she could just get a bead on where these damned failsafes were...
"I'll make you a deal, Pottymouth."
There it was, that flicker of wild energy.
She appeared up front, at the Helicarrier's master control board, hissing as her sore foot landed. "Make you a deal, potty mouth. You tell me what you put inside me and I won't ram this thing into Lady Liberty. Sound fair? All I want is my freedom back."
Two autonomous arms slapped away at the panel, the Carrier starting to roll to it's side, turning towards Ellis Island and it's sister Liberty.
"How's about I put a bullet in your brain and call you the worst investment since my niece's Beanie Baby collection?" She pulled her gun on the woman. It wasn't a superpower, but it was what she knew. It was what she clung to and the sense of protection and accomplishement that had always accompanied her.
"The problem with your freedom, is that it's the kind that steals everyone else's, and I can't have that."
With a pistol aimed toward Spiral's head, Hill shot. She prayed that her aim was true as the bullet sped through the air toward the other woman. With the flick of a wrist though, one of many, a small portal opened up. The bullet passed through it. As if sent by carrier pigeon, it reappeared in, coming out of another portal, this one opening right in front of Hill.
The bullet struck her, knocking her to the ground and rendering her still. She tried to move, tried to speak, but nothing came. Nothing at all.
As The SHIELD director dropped limp to the floor, Spiral turned to look back at the console. Limping too and fro she adjusted this and that, several dials and console windows and keyboards. The Hellicarrier's engine roared to life as it began moving at speed towards The Statue of Liberty. With a grin, Spiral moved towards the exit, picking up her helmet as she limped through the bulkhead, trying to shake off the damage Hill had done.
"Home stretch... Lookout world... wait'll you get a load of me."
The door shut behind her, leaving the bridge quiet save for the same dull thrum of the airborn behemoth, rocketing forward on a crash course with history.
Feedback - April 5, 2012 06:33 AM (GMT)
She was staring down the barrel right into the eyes of a monster. Sabretooth was a horrible creature and Reina often wondered why the hell Hill decided to keep his butt caged up here and not in a grave. From the moment she first found out about it, Reina did not like the Thunderbolt program. And the crap Zita told her about it did not help one bit. Dangerous crimes taken off the streets only to be used as dangerous weapons for the government. It did not make any sense, but that was how the world worked. And recently it became a rehab program. She figured that it was a little too late for all of that. Reina did not flinch as a second order was shouted to the fierce mutant. He had a couple of options for them to choose. Reina very well believed that there was a chance she would not be walking away from this. But if she had to die, at least she would go out a damn hero.
Sabretooth mentioned her relationship with Lucas which got a reaction out of her. “It’s not about what he wants. I’m taking you down no matter the cost.” The lights then went out shortly followed by the voice of the one responsible for all of this. Not only did they have to deal with Sabretooth and the other Tbolts, SHIELD now had to contain the regular prisoners. Things were going from bad to worse real fast. There was barely any light in the corridor making this much harder, at least for the other agents. Before saying anything else, the sound of Cassie’s voice entered through the device positioned in her. She was grateful for the extra backup, the very large backup that could stomp the prisoner to a pulp. “But I prefer option three: the one where we pump your hairy, flea-bitten ass fully of lead while you suffer from an aneurysm.”
In her eyes, Sabretooth was highlighted in all sorts of colors making him very much visible. No matter where the bastard tried to hide, she could see through the darkness and hear his every minute movement. “Dead ahead, open fire!” The barrels of five automatic weapons lit up the corridor. The sound of every round fired, every clattering of a shell, and every grunt, hoot, and holler was absorbed into Reina’s body creating a well of power that could probably knock a bull elephant on its ass. This was going to be one hell of a scream.
Sabretooth - April 5, 2012 04:35 PM (GMT)
"That's funny, really. Cute little kid doesn't even know when she's way outside of her league," Sabretooth chuckled. The arrogance of these SHIELDies. What did they teach them in training? That they were the best there ever was? That they were invincible? That there was nothing they should be afraid of? Nick Fury would have taught these punks better. He would have made sure they knew what to be afraid of.
"Oh, well. Can't say I didn't give ya the option," he shrugged his shoulders, and listened. The moment the sound of a finger trigger clicking into position sounded out, he moved, jumping to his left and to the wall, much more quickly and lithely than his stature would ever suggest was possible. A few bullets plugged their way into his chest cavity, stinging, but really little else overall. He'd been shot so many damn times over so many damn years, you could say that he was officially 'over' bullets.
Another moment, he propelled off of the wall and directly into the fray with the agents. In the dark, in such close quarters, they stood no chance, and their weapons weren't going to knock his momentum off-track. Not at this rate.
A quick, sideways swipe of his left arm sliced through one agent's throat, spraying blood all over and leaving him practically a PEZ container. In a continuation of the same motion, he brought his right arm down in a rapid arc to tear the same arm off of another agent, following that arc to use the arm itself to club three more across the skull before discarding the arm, dismissing it as insignificant.
The scene of carnage was mostly blackened thanks to the lights being out, punctuated by periodic muzzle flashes behaving like a strobe light. Kicks that snapped spines. Swipes of claws that left ugly, gaping holes where faces used to be. SHIELD issue pistols used as blunt impaling instruments, the barrel shoved deep into the throat that when Sabretooth pulled the trigger, all that was left of the head itself was bloody, pulpy chunks. Sabretooth systematically and precisely eliminated each SHIELD agent, one at a time, saving the cute little Super-Agent for last. What was she going to do, anyway? Unleash that super sonic scream on the other surviving agents as well as him? Injuring or killing them in the process and mildly inconveniencing him?
Finally, the fighting died down, and Sabretooth dropped the head of a SHIELD Agent from his left hand, letting it roll on the floor towards Feedback's feet. The sounds of metal plinking on the floor rang through the hallway as Sabretooth's healing factor pushed the bullets out one by one by one by one and healed him of the injuries they caused.
"I left two of 'em alive for ya," he said. "You act quick, you can find 'em and get 'em to the med-bay and save their lives. Or you can try to take me down and add yer own name and theirs to the casualty list. Let's see if you make the right choice this time."
Henry Orchard - April 7, 2012 01:13 AM (GMT)
Henry had never been decisive, at times like this it was his greatest weakness and he was dependent on guidance from others. But right now authority over Henry was fractured between Lang and the commander, and he watched the exchange between them with increasing apprehension. He could feel the tension in his back, slowly tying itself into knots between his shoulders. Lang was right, M-DIV should be on the offensive, they had some of the best trained, most powerful super-humans right here and they were just kicking their heels. On the other hand he could see the commander’s point, containing the lockdown was a priority and it had to be maintained at all costs. Henry kept telling himself that even as he unhooked his radio from his ear. He just couldn’t listen to that anymore.
When the commander shut Lang’s plan down Henry was surprised to find that he was relieved. A cool, calming sensation swept down his back as the knots instantaneously dissolved. As Lang stomped back to him the arguments began to unwind in the back of his head, entirely of their own accord. Henry was quite happy for the commander’s decision to be the end of it but apparently his brain didn’t quite agree. The commander was talking crap, if they were going to have any hope of getting the situation under control they were going to have to be pro-active. The worst of the worst were running wild behind that door and they weren’t just going to slink back to their cells when they’d had their fun. These people needed to be put down. Hard.
Why then, if the problem was so clear cut, had there been any indecision at all? As he so often did these days he tried to put that out of his mind, but in turn that raised further questions. The commander being so full of shit, why was Henry siding with him? As he mulled it over he brushed against an understanding of it but quickly withdrew from it. He could sense the shape of the truth but didn’t care to see the whole of it. Something else at work in Henry’s mind was less keen to let the matter lie and took matters into its own hands. Henry was familiar with this particular personal demon, it was a small part of him but at times it wielded devastating power. It was an aspect of his personality that looked down on his other traits with bitter disdain and whenever it felt sufficiently disappointed by the rest of Henry it would let him know. It spoke with in a low voice that bore more than a hint of disgust.
You just don’t want her to be anywhere near Victor Creed.
Before that could sink in Lang announced her intentions. Every inch of Henry seized up. His throat closed, his mouth ran dry and the knots in his back returned, so tight this time that he felt them pull the skin right around the back of head. He tried to tell her to stay but all he could manage was a few strangled clicks in the back of his throat. He tried to follow but his feet remained rooted to the spot. Fangs and claws and blood flashed before his eyes, scoring white-hot after images in the front of his brain. He blinked and she was gone. For several minutes Henry just sat there, dumbfounded. Eventually he took out a pen and wrote on the palm of his hand: Peggy Burdick. Sorry. He stared at it until That Voice made itself known once again.
You’re a stupid fucking coward.
Henry didn’t even bother to try and rationalise that one away. He’d let pretty much his only friend on this flying craphouse run off alone into the most dangerous place on earth. He scrambled up onto his feet and made to vault the barricade, just as he got his leg over the floor lurched beneath him and sent him stumbling. He righted himself against the wall and turned to the commander, who was shouting into his radio. Henry caught the eye of the nearest agent, “What was that?”
“Is it supposed to be doing that?”
The agent shot him a look and Henry got the message. So things were going from bad to worse, all the more important now to catch up with Lang. Seizing his chance while the others were preoccupied he dashed back to the barricade, but no sooner than he laid his hands upon it the commander grabbed him by the arm.
“What the hell do think you’re doing?”.
Henry just stared him down, blank faced.
“You even think about opening that door and I will shoot you myself. You want to be a hero? You want to get yourself killed? Fine, go right ahead. Go and find out why the hell we’re on the move.”
Henry turned back to the Lockdown and then back to the commander. Without a word Henry turned from the barricade and sat down. Setting his rifle aside he closed his eyes and jammed his hands down over his ears. Furious, the commander loomed over him.
“I gave you an order.”
“Shush.” Henry muttered, his eyes tightening.
“Listen, shit for brains-“
“I don’t know how you do things in merry old England but you’re in the US of fucking A right now and-“
“If you would be so kind as to shut the fuck up and fuck off that would be just marvellous.”
Had his eyes been open Henry would have been horrified to see the commander’s hand snake to the grip of his pistol. He would have been acutely aware of the fact if the air around Henry had not begun to twist and boil. Those agents closest to him, the commander included took a wary step back and watched on in trepidation as the distortion began to take on shape and substance. After a few moments perfect cubes began to fall to the floor about Henry. Roughly the size of a fist they were sort of purple in colour and glistened as if glazed with motor oil. This was raw vorpal, Henry’s thoughts given substance in the real world. When the cubes came to rest their edges tore away and folded themselves in rough, spindly legs. No sooner than they were on their freakish little feet then they were away, scuttling off in all directions.
“What the hell?”
“Scouts.” Henry replied tersely as he churned out more and more of the creepy little things. He could make these things in his sleep and on more than one occasion awoke to find that he’d done just that. All this intense concentration was for the benefit of something far more sophisticated.
He called it Arvid. It had the look of a sinister amalgamation of cat and crow. An almost skeletal feline body with razor sharp claws and a segmented tail lined with vicious barbs. Great black wings rested on its shoulders while the head was dominated by a cruel beak. The component parts of this vicious little bastard were quickly assembling behind Henry’s back, out of sight of the commander and his subordinates. As the last pieces slotted into place it dropped onto its legs, stretched and bounded forward. It was agile and it cleared the lockdown with ease, crawling through the smallest of gaps without even breaking pace. Once inside it opened its wings and took to the air, darting about as Henry directed it to search for Lang.
“Lang!” His voice echoed down the halls, given a glassy edge by the vibrations of a vorpal disc in the Arvid’s throat. “Lang?”.
Mala Suerte - April 12, 2012 05:17 AM (GMT)
The cell door slid open after the crazy woman’s announcement. John Jackson was now a free man. Well he would be a free man if he figured out how the hell to get off the Helicarrier. He stepped out of his cell and looked to the other prisoners that SHIELD had apprehended. “This is it boys, the moment we’ve been waiting for! Let’s get to the loading platforms, steal a jet, and get the fuck outta this joint. I got a sweet lilt hang just waiting for me back in Queens.” He picked up the discarded weapon of an agent that had gotten overrun in the chaos. “I ain’t staying in this joint a second longer.”
“Liar.” A metal fist collided with John’s face and sent him flying right back into his cell. His limp body slumped against the wall. He was going to be out for a couple of hours and when he woke, he would still be imprisoned. Zita looked to the other criminals still in the area and at the ones fleeing. They would all get caught eventually. “Sorry about this, guys, but I got a job to do.” She brought a hammer strike down across one guy’s head and kicked another right in the throat. Zita could break these dudes in half without even trying and part of her wanted to, but she did not. She kept it clean. No spine ripping, no removal of limbs or eyeballs, and no shoving her fists through chests. Just clean breaks and hits to put them all in dreamland.
She looked over to the giant being helping her dish out the royal ass whooping on the morons. “I like how you did that with his arm. Very creative, sweetie.” One of them tried to stab her from behind with a shank. The piece of crap metal bent and broke upon contact. “Are you really that damn stupid? I’m silver for a reason, dumbass!” Zita grabbed the back of his head, pulled it down, and then brought her knee up into his face. There were definitely a couple of bones broken with that one. These guys were chump change compared to the psychopaths they used to work with. She wondered when they would cross paths.
Cain Marko - April 12, 2012 07:47 PM (GMT)
Making the choice to not run was probably one of the hardest he'd ever made, but he'd made it and would stand by his decision. If SHIELD didn't give him a pat on the back or something after this, well...the walls of the Hellicarrier weren't that thick. The biggest threats were the escaped Thunderbolts, but the normal prisoners were dangerous because they were just as ruthless and possessed sheer numbers. They'd swarm over the SHIELD agents like roaches if nobody stopped.
He guessed his name was nobody. With Zita at his side and some confused and likely piss scared guards at his back, he rumbled down the hallways towards the concentration of convicts...he hadn't gotten to bust heads in a while. What they saw when they got to the prisoner area was chaos and madness. Tons of guys in jumpsuits fighting with guys in uniforms; using makeshift weapons and those pried from the fingers of soldiers they'd taken down. It was a madhouse and it was up to he and Zita to put a stop to it. They split up for a bit and his job was pretty easy, blocking the exit.
"Come on Marko, we got a chance to get out man. You can't take that from us!!" He shrugged his shoulders, a look of fake apathy on his face. "Oh, I can't? Okay, cuz you're the one group a people able to take a lickin and keep on kickin?" The guy who'd spoke up tried to do so again, a finger flick to his chest sent him flying backwards and over his friends who started scattering like bugs. They got their courage soon enough though and started fighting back. They weren't smart, but they had balls.
One guy pulled a pistol and shot at him, like that would actually do any good. The gun ran dry as the last bullet fell to the ground, then Cain grabbed the guys hand, turned him around, and pushed his own fist up his backside. Zita saw and gave him props on his creativity. "I probably shoulda told him to shove it up his ass!" He laughed as another random inmate slammed a chair into his back. A backhanded swat knocked him down and out; yet more came. "Damn boys, you just don't know when to quit do ya?"
Eden Fesi - April 18, 2012 12:07 AM (GMT)
She moved down the hall, dragging one of many arms across her bleeding mouth. She placed the helmet atop her head, content that she'd left her Pretender-Master to the scavengers. She'd get those controls out later, and, well, as far as her eyes went, she was never above a little self surgery. A team of Shield agents spun around a corner and she waved her arms and they were gone, plummeting to the sea below the Helicarrier outside. As she continued, she lifted a speaker to her mouth. "Ohhhh Thunderbooolts, it's almost time to goo-Ouf!!"
A riflebutt struck her in the side of the face and sent her spinning, she turned and with a flash the man responsible fell in two, cut diagonally across his midsection. Then she saw an approaching squad. Five more swords appeared each one keen and deadly in her grip. "Oh, what fun!"
He was running full tilt when his body materialized in one of the control rooms on the Hellicarrier, decked out in more gear than he’d worn in a while. Gunfire from one side of the room sounded and when he jumped back into reality this time, he was five feet to the left. “Hold on!!! Just because Spiral can teleport don’t mean ya should shoot everyone who can!!” The men and women in the room still had pistols, smg’s and assault rifles held steady, then lowered them. “Sorry, Eden. We’re all on edge right now.” He was by the man who said it in the next instant and leaning down towards on of the many screens that continuously monitored activity throughout the sky ship.
“Just don’t point the barrel of anything 22 caliber or higher at me and I’ll call us even, mate. Where’s she headed?” They gave him any number of probable locations and tried to track her movements best they could with the cameras, but he already knew the problem. “We can’t pinpoint her location or where she’s going; her movements are erratic, even for her.” He shook his head and was suddenly on the man’s’ other side. “Might seem erratic for you, but she’s like me.
Teleporters don’t look at travel as walking from point A to point B. We think it and we’re there…well in her case she does that Lady of the Seven Veils dance thingy, but that’s beside the point. You can’t track us because we don’t follow standard paths and patterns. Only person, who can take down a teleporter, is a teleporter.” “We found her!! Sector 7B; oh God, she killed Miller!!” As her swords appeared in her hand, he appeared in front of the squad that had found her. “Boys, I really suggest you take a support role on this one. She’s a tricky one.”
Eden's arrival purchased a smile from her. In the dim emergency lighting those burning white eyes took on an even crazier, wild nature. "Hellew." She said with a laugh. "Hope you don't need to see Hill, she's quite dead."
With that Spiral wasted no time, flipping backwards, twisting and turning as her swords vaulted upwards, and as she landed again at her feet six blasts of light purged from her hand, and the swords span in wild arcs towards the group ahead, changed instantly from melee weapons to twirling buzzsaws, their keen edges whistling through the air as she vanished, appearing behind Eden in a spin, her legs wrapping around his neck as she rolled over him, pulling him forward with her own momentum, and in an instant the dark of the carrier bloomed into the oranges of evening, a gaggle of shocked gasps emitting from those below them as the two emerged in the air above the bistro at the top of the Eiffel tower. She let go of Eden now, two hands reaching to her sides and drawing her twin .45 G.P’s, firing downwards. "Adieu!"
“Ello there, Sheila.” He was about to say something funny, but she cut him off and told him that Hill was dead, probably by her hands. His face flashed serious for a moment as he considered the gravity of the situation. He knew the Director was just a human, but she’d been trained by Nick Fury himself…there was no way she was dead. Even if she was, he and the others were still alive and they still had jobs to do. “Doubt it; Hill’s a tough cookie. Tougher than you I reck- DOWN!!!” She hadn’t even had the common decency to let him finish talking before she chucked her swords at he and the team like oversized throwing knives, then followed up with an energy barrage.
The blasts were much faster than the blades, and after he dodged one, he was attempting to pull one of his own blades free and block it; lithe and surprisingly strong legs wrapping around his neck and yanking him off his feet put a quick stop to that though. And then he felt it, the subtle shift of passing through time and space like normal people pass through a doorway. Dark to light, hallway to airspace over the Eiffel Tower…Spiral sure didn’t waste any time. He was still looking down when she let him go, and then he looked up and saw her going for her guns. He teleported back to her level, drew his own pistol, and then fired. “I don’t speak gibberish!!”
A rain of lead missed its target and as she looked up Spiral saw that he was upon her. A shooting war had begun above the streets of Paris. She blinked out and over and fired again, one round two round three round four, click click click.
The guns found themselves back in their holsters, and back at the Helicarrier, her swords ceased to be.
As Eden fired his gun she let herself fall spinning in the air in fluid and graceful motion, her swords sparking as her spatial awareness told her just where to place the keening of the blade. A slug split in twain and caught her, once in the meat of her arm the other half veering wildly off in another direction. One hand placed a sword away and shot a gold lance of concussion at the SHIELD agent, her face twisting to a sneer as she vanished and once again appeared above him, bringing her furious flurry of falchions down upon him.
Like him, she was no amateur when it came to the intricacies of seamlessly blending tactical teleportation with combat. That made this fight one of the harder ones he’d been involved in as he had to constantly be on guard from attack from any direction; this must be how normal people felt when he fought them…he hated it. As the bullets flew back and forth between them, they continued defying each other and refusing to be touched. She was utilizing 45’s, while he was using a 9mm, which meant he had more ammo than her. And like he’d expected, she ran dry while he still had rounds left to fire. Though in the span of time it took of him to pull the trigger, she’d summoned her swords back to her and somehow cut his bullet. He didn’t see this of course, but the impact showed on her body and that big red hole in her one of her arms clued him in.
A bit proud of himself, he was a hair too slow to dodge the sudden beam of force. It slammed into his sternum hard enough to drive breath and bile from his body, disorient him and fracture a rib or two. The force flipped him end over end until he righted himself. He saw her swords flashing towards him and teleported a foot further away, then back in the span of a heartbeat. When he was back in her range though, he had two long kukri blades in his hands and started matching her blow for blow, while porting just enough to evade the wrath of her other arms. As they fell, he opened a portal below them both that swallowed them up eventually and dumped them into the sky again, yet this time an impossibly tall tower scraped the sky beside them and the ground seemed a world away. The Burj Khalifa in Dubai… tallest building in the world. Just how long would they be falling?
He'd hit her! She grumbled to herself and continued in the air above France, their furious airborne dance becoming deadlier each second. Her swords cut a furious ribbon but he was not unprepared. Indeed, close range was fast, furious, and confusing, all of which were important weapons in the arsenal of any world walker such as they. Still, she was a God, crafted by the hands of the brightest mind the world would ever see. She wouldn't lose to some silly pretender.
She plummeted through his wormhole and out into another avenue of the world. The lights of Dubai by Night were beautiful, sparkling in the dark. The building beside them was racing by, and Spiral, flipping away as his twin Kukri's matched the clangs of her own blades, shot herself backwards through her own portal, emerging just in front of him with a missile-booted kick, trying to send him careening into the side of the glass and steel facade.
This was no doubt the fight of his life and everything was on the line. Against a completely ruthless teleporter every bit as competent as him, with just as much, probably more combat training…and four extra arms along with some crazy powers he still couldn’t explain ; his chances of stopping her were almost non-existent, which made his chances of surviving only slightly better. The change of scenery helped him out a bit, but he was still working up a mighty sweat trying to block as many strikes as he could and not get absolutely cut to ribbons by her six pointy blades. As much as he felt any advantage he had was slowly fading, their twirling, falling, clash of flashing steel hadn’t ended with him plummeting to his death on foreign soil, so he must have been doing something right.
After one particularly vicious riposte, she flipped away from him and vanished; it was too much to wish for her to simply be gone though. She was back before he’d taken another breath, and her boots, thankfully only two, were thrust into his already tender chest. He lost consciousness until he collided with one of the steel supports on the frame of the building; that in conjunction with his foot smashing through the glass before he was bounced back into the air woke him up.
Blood was now streaming down his face from a cut, and while his gear had kept him from getting any cuts, smashing through plate glass at the rate he was falling hadn’t done his leg any favors. He was fighting for survival though, and didn’t have time to be injured. It took him a few seconds for his vision to clear, but once it did he took a page directly from Spiral’s book. He blinked out and back in, appearing flat footed and sliding down the side of the building before jumping at her. Then he vanished again, reappearing above her and driving his shoulder towards her as hard as he could.
She grinned as Eden flew into the side of the building, and looking down at the approaching ground; she took a moment for some self pride, enjoying the rushing of the air as she twirled through the air in a perfect swan dive. Ready to leave, her arms began to twist and worm around, and as she tucked into a roll, she caught something in the air above her, and on the second flip it was even closer, and on the third, it hit her, driving her into a wild spin. Her arms locked around the attacker and that strange film of quantum energy folded around them, shooting them out hard into a realm of driving snow and rock.
She lost her grip on her opponent as she tumbled along the craggy slope, cuts and bruises mounting as she tried to gain a footing. Finally, one of her odd, three fingered hands grabbed a jutting outcropping and she righted herself, slowing her tumble to a heavy footed slide in the snow. Shunting one of her swords into the rock she used it as a brake, stopping and staggering about for a moment. That had been rough.
Her eyes glowed bright in the driving blizzard. Where were they? The mountains loomed up around them. Where was he?
"Come out come out wherever you are, little agent. Olly Olly Ocksenfreeee."
Her swords stood at the ready. Everything hurt again.
He could tell he’d slammed into her pretty hard the moment he made contact. First because he himself had been jarred by the impact, and second because it made all the injuries he’d received up until now explode in pain. Holding on for dear life, he got a good look at Spiral’s face. “Ya know, you’d be kinda cute if you weren’t so cra-.” Cold. The massive temperature shift from the desert setting of Dubai to the frosty wherever the Hell they were now was evident the moment the temporal rift sealed behind them.
They hit the ground before either had a chance to react and were separated. Spiral bouncing down the mountainside, he in a similar situation. Trying to gain his bearings was near impossible when he was shifting every which way as he fell, but he got a lucky bounce and was even long enough to spot a patch of flat ground a bit further down from where he was; the next time he slammed into the ground, he was there, coughing and holding his body bruise. He slowly stood up and took in where he was.
The Alps? The Himalayas? Everest? All those snowy mountain ranges looked exactly the same, and the blizzard they were caught in didn’t help things. As he looked around, his ear picked up words on the blowing wind…Spiral was talking. He couldn’t see her, but he’d been hunting since he could walk and knew all the tricks of the trade. He made a quick guess as to where she was from the sound of her voice, then made a jump about a dozen feet away. Slowly, he unsheathed a smaller throwing knife from his thigh and took aim. Then he let it fly at where he hoped she was.
Spiral - April 18, 2012 12:08 AM (GMT)
JP; Spiral vs. Eden, Round 2
"Graagh!" She spun as the knife hit her squarely in the shoulder, well, a shoulder. She felt the muscles in one arm tighten and burn with each movement, and pulling free the offending object she threw it bloodied to the ground. Turning to wear it had come from, she squinted her hollow eyes as she peered into the frosty tumult billowing all around them. Pulling a machine pistol she sprayed off in his direction before she vanished again. This weather simply wouldn't do.
When she arrived she immediately drew her sword, looking around the electronic wasteland of Shibuya. It was late, and still cars flew by in the neon underglow of the Tokyo version of Times Square. She reached a hand to her back, pulling back a bloodied hand and grumbling under her breath. This ended here. He'd be able to trace her. They had an innate understanding of eachothers abilities.
A car swerved around her and skidded on its side into oncoming traffic. The shriek of twisted metal grounded out around her as the busy trafficway began to descend into chaos. She loved it, every damned second of it. Two officers running towards her caught blasts of light to their chests, one flying through a store front and the other into an oncoming vehicle.
"Come on, you... come and get me come and get me come and get me."
An aggravated cry of pain and that always unsettling sound of metal sliding through flesh confirmed a hit, but he wasn’t so foolish and cocky that he’d just stroll on over and see if he got a bullseye. Pulling the two kukri he’d been using to not die by Spiral sword earlier, he took measured, hopefully silent steps forward. Then he heard automatic fire and he jumped backward, adding a good ten feet with an emergency teleport. It seemed Karma couldn’t make it’s mind up who to help though, because hot pain streamed through his shoulder and that same burning could be felt on his cheek.
The bullet had gone clean through his arm, and luckily the second had only grazed his face…how close he’d been to death could be counted in inches, and his own mortality plagued his thoughts even moreso than it had been since this world tour had started. Hissing as he ripped a piece of fabric from his shirt and tied his arm to stem the blood flow, he looked around. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the disturbance in time-space. She’d jumped again, leaving him here…he could track her though. A quick check of his equipment was done before he picked his blades up off of the ground and took a running start. Before his foot hit the snowy turf again, he was in Japan, his feet pounding the pavement and his blades singing as he swung at her. “Surprise, surprise!!”
As chaos desended upon Tokyo, she surveyed her handiwork, more than a bit proud. Her friend would be here soon, and she'd kill him and be done. It didn't mean she had to be bored in the interim. Briefly her mind passed to how her cohorts might be fairing on the otherside of the world, but that was neither here or there.
Eden's voice shot out of the ether, only split seconds ahead of it's owner, and she spun, locking both his blades between two of her own and pulling him in close. Her eyes went level with his, the voiding black around those burning white pupils maddened and crazed. Her silver lips stretched into a cruel grin and she leaned her forehead on his. "SHIELD's a lame dog, you should come with me, be my little lackey. I'd pay you and everything."
Only a person devoid of feelings and decency wouldn’t take notice of the carnage Spiral had wrought, and while he was definitely not that person, he couldn’t allow himself to focus on anything or anyone other than Spiral…he’d be dead in a heartbeat if he did. Sparks flew as Spiral turned and locked blades with him; she was a lot stronger than she looked, but then again she was a lot more everything than she looked. He was clearly at a disadvantage during their standoff because she had two extra pair of arms, and she used them to pull him in close. Not to mention one of his arms had a bullet hole in it and he couldn’t exert as much force as usual.
He had no choice but to allow the forced contact and stare back into her soulless, crazy eyes of her; he couldn’t even recoil when her forehead touched his for fear of getting his head lopped off. His face, one of grim determination changed to puzzling thought, then hilarity as he smiled at her offer. “Sure, I’ll work for you…if you give up your life of crime and murderous ways. No?” He headbutted her and stumbled backwards. “Sorry then, I already got a pretty lady to sign my checks.”
Spiral rolled backwards and onto her feet, standing there, she shoved a sword into the ground, taking her helmet off and placing it on the hilt. "...That had to sting."
She took a few pacing steps back and forth, eying Eden as the crowd swelled and surged around them. People running away, others scrambling for pictures, still others in uniform trying to get through into the human circle that had formed around them. "Well, you can't say I didn't try, Mr. Eden. I guess I'm a big bad villain now though. I wonder, just how many of your friends do you think I killed today. You know, last I saw of her, that pretty little blonde friend of yours was heading straight towards Balam, and Mr. Creed was gonna make a necklace from Feedback's guts. How many service funerals you think SHIELD will pay for before it breaks their bank?"
She kept her remaining swords at the ready, just in case he "acted up."
Whoever had “birthed” Spiral had done a damn good job. Even as battered as she was, she still managed a type of fierce grace as she too got a bit of space. And her little words were right. He’d headbutted a helmet made of all types of crazy high tech metals and polymers; his vision was blurred, his head throbbing, and he was pretty sure he’d broken the skin. What was one more injury though? “I’ve had worse…probably. Not really in a position to have a look back now am I?” He kept his eyes focused on Spiral, with only fractions of seconds glances at the crowd surrounding them and starting to grow in size. It seemed stupidity knew no culture barrier, as people were actually trying to stream a video of two mutants with guns and blades trying to kill one another.
He wanted to fire a warning shot, yell at them; do something to get the people to disperse. But he knew the moment Spiral saw an opening or sign of weakness, she would take it. She was like an Apex Predator who liked playing with her food before killing it. He stayed still and spit a glob of blood to the ground beside him while she rounded off names of Thunderbolts who she, in his own opinion, wrongly assumed would take down and presumably kill his teammates.
“I wouldn’t call you a big bad villain; you’re definitely a rotten apple though. As for my people against yours; let’s compare. Cat lady’s maybe 5’5 in stiletto’s, Stature punched out a Sentinel. And people with hearin like Creed’s don’t seem like the best people to fight someone with a sonic scream.” He was talking big, and he really had faith in his teammates. But they were fighting ruthless killers with no remorse…his prayers with them. “I like that confidence, Spiral. Gonna make it feel so much better when I put you down and drag you back to Hill with your hands behind your back...all of em.” His blades were still in his hands, ready to be brought up at a moments notice…who would make the first move in this seemingly never ending dance of theirs?
She leered sidelong at him, shrugging. Bravado. Stupid Bravado. It was so common. "Sorry, Eden. But I'm not going back. I'm my own person now. Mojo made me to be his, Hill tried to do that same thing. I'm done being a puppet for other people, I quite like holding the strings. Like take right now for instance. I hold them all, every last little one. Even yours. Don't believe me?"
She vanished and the crowd let out a collective gasp. Before long, screams began to erupt. First here, then there, then here and there, then there and here and here and there and then a cacophonous choir of shouts erupted before she appeared again in front of him, winded. Pulling her helmet from her sword and fixing it atop her bloodied, bruised head, she grinned wide again before pulling her sword from the ground and sheathing it at her back.
"I think there were twenty five." She pointed upwards with an idle smile. "Most will start hitting the ground in about forty seconds. The rest of them have train problems." Two of her hands pointed at the ground below them. "You could try to follow me, but you know, you don't get paid commission for dead innocence."
One hand tipped her helmet and offered him a grin. "So long, hero!" She said with a wink and a twirl, and in a spiral of light she vanished.
“Not goin back? I don’t think that’s your call…especially when I’m right here and ready to fight you to the finish if it comes to that. And you got nothing, Spiral.” He was wrong…he was so very wrong. Closing his eyes the moment she vanished, he could track her each and every spatial warp, like lights shining in the darkness that was reality. She was moving so fast though, and the screams began to mount as she continued. She couldn’t have been gone more than 20, 25 seconds tops when she reappeared and retrieved her sword and helmet. His jaw dropped as she explained what she’d done and his eyes trailed her hands. She’d teleported people into the sky, and into the subway. All twenty-five of them were dead if he didn’t do something; she really did have control over him…that brilliant, conniving, psycho bitch. He stayed quiet while she casually joked about murder, then he pulled his pistol and fired a round at where she would have been if she hadn’t been enveloped in the gentle embrace of wormhole.
“FUCK!!!” He dropped his gun and was gone before it hit the ground, and in those crucial forty seconds he put his powers to the ultimate test and pushed past limits he hadn’t known existed. Catch someone, put them on the ground. Catch a couple, drop them on a building. Catch a family of three, dump them in a fountain. His form could be seen blinking in and out in rapid succession if one had a keen enough eye. Once he got everyone on the ground, he went underground and appeared in front of a small crowd while a speeding trains lights grew brighter and larger by the second. They were scattered, running this way and that. And Spiral had deposited them in the tunnels, not the terminal, so there was nowhere for them to escape to.
He knew he couldn’t get all of them in time, so he did the only thing he could do. A whirling disc of energy roughly the diameter of the train opened up just as the horn blared; a half mile down the tracks it’s twin spat the rest of the locomotive out…he kept this up until the whole train was out the other side. When it was gone, he let the portals dissipate and brought a hand up to his nose. It was bleeding… a lot; and why did his head hurt? He fell backwards and over 5,000 miles later, landed on the cold steel floor of the Hellicarrier. Agents who were running around in the chaos took notice of his bruised and battered form and ran over. “Spiral…she got away.” Blackness enveloped him and he welcomed it.
She landed her feet on the Helicarrier floor, the hallway was bereft of activity, and she moved to the intercomm unit, jamming her hand on the button and speaking as clearly as she could.
"Attention, K-Mart Shoppers! I'm going to be popping around at any moment. It's time to blow this popsicle stand before she gives Eiffle's Lady one heckuva high-five. Until then, Blue Light Special on SHIELD agents! Get 'em while they're hot! Give the newsies a story, lighten the mood and redden the decor!"
She blasted the intercom, and vanished into thin air.
Feedback - April 18, 2012 03:24 AM (GMT)
Fighting someone with his agility and speed in an enclosed space was not a wise decision, but they had no other choice. Besides, they had superior firepower and numbers. However, that did not seem to be enough to put the big bastard down. He took the gunfire like it was another day at the office and kept on going. Reina ducked under a swipe of his claws, but a fellow agent paid the price. He moved through them slicing and dicing and dipping away. It was a massacre in the hallway. The killing happened so damn fast that all she could do was watch and try to pick good shots when he was not near a coworker. When it was all over and done with, she placed a hand at her mouth as the head of agent Stevens rolled to her feet. This monster was sick. She leveled the assault rifle and shot for his head.
Sabretooth's head rocked back as the bullet struck his forehead, and he took three steps back, crushing a SHIELD Agent's arm under his second step. He probably could have swerved out of the way of the shot, but that would have invalidated the point he was trying to make. The point being that this little girl couldn't kill him. Didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell, though. Ringing sound in his ears, nasty headache starting up. He let out a growl of annoyance as his left hand went up to his forehead and plucked the bullet out of the skin of his forehead, leaving a bright red dot that was slowly closing itself up. "You do realize that every second you waste with me is another second yer survivors need to stay alive," he said with a grin as a trail of blood leaked down from the bullet wound to the left side of his nose. "But you wanna go, I get that. Try to be the big hero. Catchin' me is more important than the lives of yer brothers in arms. Kinda fucked up, but hey, I can appreciate that." He took a breath, standing up to full height and wiping some blood off his face with the back of his prison uniform sleeve. "It's that need fer blood. That primal desire to kill or be killed. You're more like me than you'd ever admit, aren't ya?”
He took the shot… he took the damn shot like it was a pellet. What exactly did it take to kill someone like this? Dropping his big ass into a vat of acid or kicking him into the Grand Canyon probably still would not kill him. Reina was out of options and he was right. Every second she spent on him was a second leaving the alive agents. But if she allowed him to go free he could just keep killing more and more of their people. She did not want to sacrifice them, she could not. Reina was too nice for something like that. It would eat away at her conscience for life. He accused her of being like him and that make her sick to think about. “I am nothing like you!” Reina inhaled deep and then unleashed a concentrated scream from her core directly into his. The concussive force behind the blast should have been enough to knock back a man of his stature. She marched forward with the blast until she reached the down agents. Reina grabbed them by the collars and pulled them away while Sabretooth dealt with the aftereffects of the attack.
Here it was. The big boom, the push. He'd poked and prodded and here it came. And it was time to take it like a champ. When it hit, he put up no resistance. He let it send him tumbling head over heels down the hallway, let it burst his eardrums, let that bit of nausea sink in. He landed on the floor, on hands and knees, a good distance away from the girl. Further along towards his destination. "Everybody's like me," he coughed out, even though he couldn't hear the words himself. He staggered back to his feet, his healing factor getting to work. "Deep down inside. I am human nature. Most a' you just don't wanna admit it." He turned back towards the flight bay, and glanced over his shoulder as she began to drag the surviving agents away. "Be seein' you around, sweetcheeks."
Reina glared at Sabretooth as he got to his feet. She could have put a hell of a lot more into that scream, but the risk was too high. In the scramble to contain everything that was going on, squadmates did not have enough time to grab the sound suppressors usually worn when on missions with her. If that had them, Sabretooth would not be walking away right now. Thinking about the what ifs and could bes was not helping the two men in her grasp. “I need medical assistance now at Launch Bay B wing. Two agents, barely alive. We had a run in with Sabretooth.” She applied pressure to the bleeding wound in agent Addison’s neck. “Come on baby stay with me.” She cursed and spoke into the comm. again. “Be advised, Creed is still on the loose.”
Stature - April 18, 2012 03:34 AM (GMT)
JP Stature and Jara
With the power out, the Tbolts section became far more frightening than it had ever been before. She'd been here several times. Guard duty, delivering meals, other gopher jobs she'd been made to do when she was still fresh out of Academy. It was harrowing right now. Both hands gripped the pistol. She almost regretted giving Orchard her rifle. What was she going to do with a .44, annoy these people to death?
In the dull red glow of the emergency lighting, she cursed herself for forgetting her visor. The subtle illumination it granted would have been wonderful right now.
And then there was what she'd just done. If she made it out of here, she'd be lucky to get out of it with a court-martial, she was fairly sure. But there was no way she was going to leave Agents to die while the upper command just waited for things to fizzle out.
The walls became sudden enemies, each one a potential gateway for this silver-haired ringleader of this operation. As much as Spiral frightened her, however, it was the denizens still locked inside this department with her that frightened her the most. Vega and Marko had been showing signs of improvement, but how far would that go when escape was dangled before them? And then there was Sabertooth and Jara, the ferals.
"What the heck am I doing." She muttered silently.
"Reina?" She called, wincing. She hoped Reina would here her before anyone else, or some SHIELD agent. Anybody but them.
Turning a corner she came across a pair of bodies. Even in the dim light their state was apparent. Stature wretched, covering her mouth as if doing so would stop what ultimately came up.
Shaking, she continued forwards. The pistol swaying wildly across the hall. Bloodied footprints leading from the grizzly scene had become her guide, and they were leading her to the Thunderbolt's personal armories.
Who the hell decided that was a good idea?
Balam sprinted down the hall, senses on high alert, that poor guard’s amputated finger on the scanner of her new gun. Biometrics were such a pretty piece of technology. SHIELD thought themselves real clever when they devised that piece of protocol for Thunderbolt escorts, ah? Shame they forgot that one factor. Hands were pretty damn detachable, and freedom was one hell of a motivator.
The hallways echoed with gunfire and screams, exacerbated when the lights went out. Her steps did not falter, not for a single moment, as her keen eyes grew even more feline and pupils grew, letting in as much light as possible. She was at home in the darkness, another card in her favor in this high-stakes game. Her small figure passed between three bewildered SHIELD technicians like a blur, claws reaping through their soft sides with detached efficiency. She left their screams behind, grinning widely as their insides plopped wetly in a bloodied cascade on the floor in her wake, popping another head with an impossible shot in the dark down the hall. Using the shouts and panicked fire coming from other brigades across the Thunderbolts wing, Jara made sure to steer clear of the main sources of conflict. Like flies to honey, SHIELD’s personnel all converged on the high-risk targets. Mala and Juggernaut and their ridiculous strength, Sabretooth and his lust for chaos… she was one to talk, of course, but the small feral hadn’t lived this long without knowing how to pick her fights. Besides she had a goal in mind.
Her speed (and the proximity from the armory) put her a step well ahead of recapture. Her boots skid across the polished floor to a stop before a heavy reinforced panel, Balam slamming the pirated appendage on the handprint scanner. Iridescent rays fluidly slid up and down the glass plate, and on the screen before her a man’s face materialized on a three-dimensional mesh, looking adorably serious with his little buzzcut.
“Prepare for retinal scan,” the feminine robotic voice advised, and Jara promptly obeyed. She held the squishy organ between two bloodied fingers, a blue laser pulsing from an optic lens and washing over iris and pupil.
“Thank you, Officer James Perkins.”
The doors slid open with a whisper of hydraulics and levers, revealing a treasure trove of SHIELD ordinance. Balam wasted no time and hurried in, tossing her old gun aside and taking a bite of the deceased officer’s hand.
What? She was hungry.
Stature tracked the bloody tales one by one, stopping briefly to radio back to her post. "Some of these people are injured, you need to send Medics in now."
"Lang, you're ass is done. Get back here now." Came Chaffey on the other end. "Before you get yourself killed."
She switched her radio off. That wasn't going to do any good now.
Picking up her gun and the crimson trail, visible now only through the slick highlights of the dim emergency lights that dotted the hall at regular intervals, she continued onward, gunfire and shouts her constant companion. And there it was, by a bulkhead door she saw the grisly sight; on the floor sat an eye, torn crudely from its owner. Looking up into the lettering above she shook her head. The Armor. It was next to pitch, and clicking the flashlight on her weapon she moved inside.
Don't think of Alien. Don't think of Alien.
If someone was in here, they had to be stopped.
Rows upon rows of tall shelves and lockers created blindspots and corridors galore within the armory. At a time when things had been under control, the convenience of it had seemed a good idea. The longer she was here however, the more it seemed that forethought was not a strength of her superiors.
Strafing along she kept her pistol at the ready, trying to be as quiet as possible, as smooth as possible as she scanned the walkways laden with ordnance.
And then she heard it, quiet rummaging, and she moved towards it slowly. The door slid shut behind her and she jumped, cursing inwardly before remembering herself and turning the corner, hammer back and finger at the trigger.
Grenades? Noisy, but extremely useful in a desperate situation. Bullets? You can never have too many. There were no rules in the game of survival. Only kill or be killed, and Jara had no plans of joining the latter team. A tactical harness was already buckled around her, clasping new explosives and goodies onto every rig available as she tore through shelf upon shelf of weapons like a child through a toy store, only with far less giggling but the same amount of homicidal intent for anyone that got in the way of her prize.
With enough weapons, she could survive the firefights and bloodbath out there, just long enough to find Spiral and hitch a space-time continuum-warping ride out of this flying hellhole, or, worst-case scenario, commandeer her own vessel and make a crash-landing on the ground. Make it back to dry land, run from pursuit, never be found. She’d spent a lifetime running from people that wanted her dead – black ops, druglords, Interpol, terrorists. SHIELD would be no different. It’s easy to fall off the grid deep in a jungle, and she always did fancy the thought of having her own island in the tropics. With the right aliases and complex paper trail, she’d never be found.
She slapped another block of C4 on a metal pillar, lips pursed into a fine line as they gripped a number of blasting caps firmly, Jara driving one of them into the explosive block. By no means was this enough to bring the Helicarrier down in a blaze of smoking glory, but this would be enough to render this armory completely useless and the hallway inaccessible. With the inevitable fires, no one would be able to follow her.
With all of her rummaging and focus on amassing a decent arsenal, she didn’t hear her little visitor, at least not until the heavy doors closed of their own accord. She stopped immediately, hearing a gasp of surprise echo in the room before she, too, dove for cover. A small flashlight gleamed in the darkness, illuminating a barren spot.
Balam didn’t recognize the voice. Not immediately, at least. There were too many people on this ship to care about, few of which had regular interaction with the Thunderbolts. Obviously, she didn’t comply with the command, nor did she respond. Balam remained silent, slowly rising from her crouch as she straightened behind a tall shelf of rifles, prepping another block of plastique and chucking it across the room. It fell to the floor with a thud.
As Jara routed through things, she kept the pistol trained on her back. "I said freeze, damnit! You're going back to your cell."
She recognized the flash of a face in the dim light of her torch. While she'd never seen Balam with trails of blood on her face, it was clear just which of the intrepid Thunderbolts this one was.
"Don't make me shoo-"
Something flew through the air, and Stature hopped back, firing a few shots off, scared into apathy for the fact that they were in an armory. When she realized just what Montenegro's gift had been she jerked backwards even further, foot skipping on something and sending her to the floor, gun and torchlight clattering out of reach. Scrambling to her knees she cursed under her breath, feeling around the floor for her weapon, crawling towards the light that streaked across the cold steel floor.
She couldn't get big, not in here, not big enough to matter. She scrambled around a corner into an aisle of weaponry, grabbing the first thing she could lay hands on.
Coming around the corner, she trained the assault rifle where Jara had been. She was there no longer.
Her new weapon was light, unloaded.
The Dark closed in around her and Stature looked around, trying as hard as she could not to breathe.
Something cold, a lick of fear, traipsed up her spine. She tried to listen, to let her other senses take over for her lack of vision in the chamber. She was scared. What would dad do, she pondered. What would dad do.
"Stand down, Balam. I don't want to hurt you; you really trust that Spiral cares about you? She's just saving herself."
The brick of explosive sat inertly on the ground. Its blast radius was deadly, but moreso were the other volatile materials that resided in this armory. The whole place could turn into a brilliant, scouring spectacle like a Chinese New Year parade and render them both into charbroiled corpses with nothing but teeth to identify them, or, if they were lucky, horrifically disfigured. In which case Jara much preferred to die. Life was nothing without health and good looks.
Tensions ran high and the rookie called for the assassin to stand down. Jara might have listened, had Agent Stature any kind of leverage to begin with. This claustrophobic realm of darkness only capitalized on the feral’s strengths. Add some explosives, and you had one hell of an Easter egg hunt.
“Of course she doesn’t care, mi vida. But it’s the chance that matters.” Plucking a shotgun shell from her bandolier, she flung it outwards, sending it bouncing across the floor.
“There’s C4 on every pillar in this room. I have the switch,” Balam called out, shouldering a shotgun. Her voice was earnest. “And I won’t hesitate to blow us both up. Unless you leave.”
She licked her lips in anticipation, skulking down another aisle, keeping her head low and eyes wide open, keeping outside of the flashlight’s revealing arc. If Lang touched it, however, she was prepared to blow the rookie agent away.
Balam crossed to another aisle, struck by a strong floating vein of the young agent’s scent. She listened. A low, rumbling feline growl stirred in her throat before she slammed her foot against a tall, heavy cabinet. The dense muscles of her legs pushed hard, toppling the heavy rack over and triggering a domino effect of steel weapons cases.
How long had she been out?
In the wrecked armory, she stirred, buried in twisted metal and weaponry and ordnance. When lucidity came she shot up, both in awareness and height, the woman now more than four times her normal height. The place was empty. Had one of those bombs gone off? That much was obvious.
Pulling herself to her feet, Stature became immediately aware of the gashes in her side, the gash in her forehead painting half of her face red in the dark.
Where had Jara gone?
She shrunk back to normal to conserve energy, clutching at her side as she staggered towards the armory command console. Fingerprint checks had been activated, that much was clear through the explosion-blackened monitor. Balam had escaped and gained weaponry.
Stature hissed as she limped towards the door, trying to work her radio.
Henry Orchard - April 22, 2012 01:30 AM (GMT)
All throughout the helicarrier went Henry’s cubedroids. They were clumsy little things, wobbling about on matchstick legs and confounded by the simplest of obstacles. For each one that achieved its objective another five became irreversibly trapped somehow and Henry simply elected to discontinue their existence. Managing all of these independent bodies was taking its toll on Henry and the continual distractions weren’t exactly helping, so any chance he got to reduce the strain he gladly took. To be fair, if he hadn’t expended so much attention on trying to find Lang then running any number of cubedroids would have been easy peasy. More or less they just needed to be told to twitch their legs in the right sequence but the Arvid was another game entirely with proper musculature and several dozen points of articulation.
Speaking of which.
The Arvid crept through the T-Bolt lockdown. Progress towards finding Lang was slow, every time he came across a body Henry felt compelled to check the vitals and this did not prove to be a productive exercise . Many did not exhibit detectable signs of life and those that did were not entirely enthusiastic about the appearance of what one frantic agent had described as a “Flying demon monkey, oh shit oh god no.”. Since then his pace had quickened, if only because it became evident that beyond a certain point there wasn’t going to be anyone left alive.
Henry’s powers were not especially stable under stress and as such the chaos around Henry himself would seep through his concentration and echo out through the vorpal. When Spiral made her last announcement over the intercom the cubedroids emitted a pitiful little whine and shivered so hard that some of them broke their legs. When Chaffey tried to order Lang back over the radio the Arvid barked “Arsehole.”, and the long silence that followed encouraged a nervous humming to echo about the place. Vice-versa some of what the drones picked up filtered back through. When the going was especially tough sheets of vorpal would steam off of Henry and as they broke apart the sounds from distant corners of the carrier. This was a decidedly unpleasant effect and it wasn’t long before somebody had enough. The nearest agent kicked Henry in the knee. “Quit with the poltergeist shit.”
“Ow.” Said Henry, his brow folding up over his eyes as he tried to maintain his faltering control “I can’t… Can’t help it. It happens sometimes.”
“I don’t give a crap. Cut it out.”
“Go away please.”
The patience of his reluctant colleagues had been wearing thin since the crisis had begun and clearly that one curt reply was the last straw. The agent looked to his commanding officer, who returned the look with a stern nod. A rifle butt smashed into Henry’s temple and he toppled over. The world swam and flickered. He could feel the drones shatter on the edge of his awareness. He struggled to hold onto the Arvid, scrabbling about for it in the shrieking confusion that dominated the extra-cranial regions of his mind. His desperate clawing at it sent the Arvid into spasms, his mind failing to engage properly with its systems and instead shooting random or incompatible impulses down the line. These spasms echoed back and for the few seconds before he lost consciousness Henry writhed and jabbered.
When he finally lay still the agents edged in closer. A few raised eyebrows were turned towards the one amongst them who wiped blood from the stock of his rifle. “What? I didn’t hit him that hard.”
Stature - April 22, 2012 02:19 AM (GMT)
"What? I didn't hit him that hard."
A massive fist cracked against the mans jaw, at least three times the size of any normal person. The man went flying in an unnatural, flailing manner to the size, and Lang's fist wrapped around the barrel of one of the many guns that came leveled against her, crushing it and bending it upwards.
"Striking a fellow officer!?"
"Get offa me!"
She was pale save for the streaks of red that painted her. The claw-marks in her side, the gash on her forehead, it was all telltale of the brief but vicious fight she'd only just survived. When she'd come out of that vent, Chaffey had ordered her detained, and at first she'd been willing to accept it, but the display up ahead had been too much, the site of Henry being attacked through the cracks in the barricade, the fact that now agents were turning on agents? It was all too much, and as in the wrong as she might have been, it was enough.
"Stand down or I will shoot!"
She flung another agent off of her, the girls frame shrinking back down to something normal. Gripping at her gut, she moved to Henry, checked his neck for a pulse before looking at the agents now surrounding her at a respectable distance. Chaffey punctured through the ring, eyes lit up in anger.
"I should shoot the both of you right now, damnit." Chaffey barked. "Stupid mutant scuzz thinking just because you can do things we can't that you're above the chain of command. You'll be lucky to get away with less than fifty in a Max Sec, you rotten little sc-"
Chaffey went flying into a group of the marines. It hadn't been a punch from a giant. It had been a slug from a girl, much smaller than him, and it had been tough enough to land him heavy on his ass. She scowled at the lot of them as they cuffed her hands behind her back, dragging her off towards who knew where.
"Racist son of a bitch!" She yelled back at him. "Cowardly stupid son of a bitch!"
She disappeared behind some bulkhead, anger written on her face. Deep inside she knew she was probably done here, in SHIELD, in New York, in the superhero business, whatever. She wasn't sure she cared.
Spiral - April 25, 2012 05:05 AM (GMT)
Well, she'd had her fun, and her cake. Killed a Director and, quite possibly their one means of chasing her down. She'd let out inmates, cut the power, and set the Hellicarrier to Crash into on of the last great testaments to American Liberty.
Chaos tasted so delicious when eaten raw.
Her swords spun in a vorpal hurricane, the agents around her dropping dead or dying. She move to the wall-mounted intercom and flipped a switch. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, friends and foe alike. It's time I left this lovely little bit of engineering. Soon enough it'll collide with the big copper lady in the bay, and you can all scramble for life boats and parachutes. I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you to one and all for this lovely adventure."
She took a breath, one hand idly squeezing the trigger of a .45 and planting a set of lead slugs into the approaching eyes of a SHIELD agent.
"That said, I'm sorry you thought that you could contain me. That you could contain the others. This little experiment has been a failure, and no doubt a costly one. Your SHIELD is left headless and lame in the legs. Consider the Hellicarrier's crash course a mercy killing. That said; Goodnight and Thank You."
With that she vanished, and skipping through the spaces between time, she emerged just behind Victor Creed, only just dodging a surprised swipe from his claws before plucking him from existence. When again the two of them surfaced, they arrived next to Balam, Spiral's cybernetic arm pushing the gunbarrel away from her face as yet another arm laid on her shoulder, and the three were gone...
...only to arrive on a beachfront somewhere in the South Pacific. They did not dally, and before the span of a breath they...
...entered the world again on a roof-top over looking Hong Kong...
...Stone Henge greeted them shortly afterwards...
...The Arctic Circle...
...and finally they came out in some dusty back alley she looked to Creed, to Balam, and, with her wounds catching up to her, let herself fall back into a lean on the dirty stone wall behind her.
"You know what?" She said to the two of them. "I forgot my toothbrush."
She sat silent there for a minute, nearly literally, and then suddenly those wildly glowing eyes flared as she started laughing. Raucous laughter, hearty laughter. Perhaps unwarranted laughter. She pushed herself off the wall, her chuckling and chortling echoing in the alley as she headed out into the sunbaked street, laughing all the way.
"Ahah hah hah hee hee hee hoo hoo hoo hah hah hah ohhhhh."
Taking only a step out into the wide world she looked one way and then the other befroe taking a big breath of freedom.
Sabretooth - April 25, 2012 05:27 AM (GMT)
In the moment that it took him to realize what was happening, Victor Creed had already reacted - programmed Weapon X reflexes kicking in, and the swipe was made. But she was ready and fast enough to avoid it. The following went too quickly for Creed to process. Teleporting always threw him for a loop, as it tended to do to those of a more feral nature, with the enhanced animalistic senses. It threw off balance, it disoriented the nose, messed with the internal compass. Location, direction, speed - they all meant nothing during the teleportation.
But at last it was done. It was over, and they were out. Really out, not just unleashed for a little mission only to be recalled once it was all said and done. They had beaten the system and they had gotten out and it was glorious.
"You did it, kiddo, you really did it," Victor said with a smirk and a nod of his head after Spiral's raucous laughter finally died down.
"Gotta admit, I thought that skinny little bitch had you good and zapped, but you really pulled through," compliments. Praise. Hopefully, she'd eat it up like it was a high-class delicacy.
And now for the next part. They were out, yes. But they couldn't rest. Not just yet.
"You ladies ever been to Vancouver? I tell ya, it's lovely this time o' year. Winter's turnin' to spring, the green grass startin' to grow back, oh, an' that's where I got my own mansion safeguarded by cannibalized Weapon X cloaking tech so they can't find us again unless we want 'em to. S'where I'm headed, yer welcome to come along if you'd like."
Spiral, he was sure he could get to come along. Balam, couldn't say for sure, but quite frankly, she wasn't as important an ally as Spiral was. She'd be plenty of fun, sure. But Spiral was the key.
Mala Suerte - April 25, 2012 06:34 PM (GMT)
A loose criminal struggled to escape her grasp, but his flailing and kicking was useless. Zita listened to the announcement that was made by the crazy teleporter then shook her head. “Man I swear whoever the hell is replacing Hill better shave a significant amount of time off of our sentences or I’m going to be one pissed off chica.” Apparently the clone had managed to take down the big boss lady and now the organization was left without a leader. There was no sadness felt for the loss. The only thing Zita liked about that woman was that sweet ass. Other than that she could jump in front of a train. She punched the convict in his gut to get him to stop moving so damn much and then flung his body into one of the open cells.
They could have taken Spiral up on her offer and abandoned this place or worse, yet here she and Cain were moping up the damn mess left behind. Part of her was wondering if they should just abandon ship. They were both wholly capable of surviving a dive off the side of the Helicarrier and could swim their way to freedom or walk on the bottom of the ocean whichever. But no, she would stay and continue the progress made. Zita captured a guy by the back of his neck. She jumped up placing her knees into his chest and fell backwards to the floor forcing them deep into his torso. As she let him go, the guy bounced into the air from the impact and slammed into a wall.
At least half of his ribs had been broken from that little maneuver and by the amount of blood pouring from his mouth his lungs had been punctured. Zita stared at him as he continued hacking up stuff. “Might have put too much in that one. Oh well, he was probably scheduled for execution anyway.” After a quick survey she saw that all of the loose criminals had been taken care of by their dual effort. Beaten and broken bodies littered the hallways. A couple of agents rounded the corner and came upon the scene of two Thunderbolts standing over the broken bodies. Zita cast a casual glance. “So who the hell’s leading the joint now that boss lady is dead? And is anyone going to do anything about the damn steering system?” She would not die from the crash, but her sister damn well could.
Feedback - April 26, 2012 02:24 AM (GMT)
The medical team finally arrived to take the agents off her hands, but it was too damn late for Addison. Too much blood was loss from the gaping wound in his neck. No matter how much pressure she applied, it was not enough. Reina stepped aside as the team tended to Robinson’s injuries. Her eyes were locked with Addison’s until the lids were closed. She was angry. She had never been this angry in her 27 years. Reina was pissed at Creed and herself. Failure was not something she liked and that failure cost these men their lives. Doubts about her own capableness began to plague her mind. Was this job too much for her to handle? The decision to sign her name on the roster may have been the biggest mistake of her young life. “No,” she said.
No. She could not let this keep her from soldiering on or let her mind be possessed with such doubts. If she did not understand how Zita felt she sure as hell did now. This must have been what it was like out there on the battlefield in Afghanistan. The woman let it get to her to the point that she was depressed and lashing out at herself and the world. Reina was not about to let that happen to her. Learn from the experiences of others. The words coming from medical staff agent Court finally reached her eyes as she shut out the negativity and opened up to the outside world once again.
“Rivera, I asked are you injured?” Court stood up and shined the small flashlight into her eye.
“I’m fine.” She blinked and swatted his arm away. “The only things hurt are feelings, nothing I can’t handle.” She glanced back down the hallway then to Addison’s body. She would personally write home to their families given the survival of this whole ordeal. The intercom system came to life with Spiral’s voice again.
”… left headless”
Those were the words that stuck out the most. “Shit.” That crazy creature had done something to the director. Reina did not want to believe that Hill was dead. There had been only one bit of animosity between the women, but that was gotten over real quick. “Cooper, with me. We’re finding the director.” The two agents took off down the hall with hopes and prayers of the heart that Hill was not laid out with a hole in her chest.
Bishop - May 5, 2012 05:23 PM (GMT)
Her eyes grew foggy. Images lost their sharpness, their clarity. This was getting the better of her. Maria could feel herself getting cold. She knew that soon she would not be able to move and, if that were to happen then she and who knows how many others would be dead come the morning.
If she were in a clearer state of mind, she would worry herself about the fallout. At best, SHIELD would be considered incompetent and disbanded. At worst, they would be branded traitors and terrorists. She would, of course, be blamed and all she stood for would be twisted into an ill fitting lie.
She had to stand. She had to fight. But how could she.
Soon warmth returned to her. It was not her own. No, that was long gone. Hands, arms grabbed at her. A voice, familiar but distant, spoke her name.
"Agent Bishop?" She said as the truth of who he was revealed itself to her. With blood loss came confusion. If he were really here, then he could help, then she could show him how.
"Agent. We are on a collision course with the Statue of Liberty. There's an override, but it takes my fingerprint to unlock it, and the sensors would read my vitals as too low. The system would assume I was being coerced."
She took a shallow breath.
"The only chance we have is for you to drain power from the entire Helicarrier. The back up generators will turn on, but it will reboot any auxillary. But you'll have to be able to hold it all Agent. Can you-can you do that?"
She felt sleep creep up on her and, before he could answer, her body succumbed to it.
“Yeah it’s me, I came as soon as I cou- The Statue of Liberty!?!” This was bad. The hellicarrier was tons upon tons upon tons, a ridiculous amount of weight, metal and flammable liquids flying through the air. With all the vehicles and weapons upon it…it was a bomb the size of an aircraft carrier. If they hit Lady Liberty, not only would most everyone on board die, so would the people on the island, the statue would crumble, and a fireball would blossom, accompanied with flaming wreckage that would easily reach the mainland. It could be Coney Island all over again.
That avenue of thought was quickly exhausted, and he listened intently on what she was telling him. He cursed silently as well, thinking that sometimes they were too damn high tech for their own good. He couldn’t even stop this thing through a complicated series of button presses, it had to be the ole’ fashioned way. There was one way, only one way for him to stop this thing, and it would be one of the hardest and most dangerous things he’d ever done…but he had to do it to save everyone. Hill had fallen unconscious in his arms before he could give her an answer, but it was yes.
He put her down and checked the wound; a clean through and through thankfully, but she was still bleeding. He ripped off a part of her shirt and formed a compress to stop the blood flow; it wasn’t perfect, but it was all he could do for the moment. Standing up, he ran out of the bridge and into Reina and her friend, whoever he was. “Hill’s on the bridge, she’s been shot and she needs medical attention, ASAP!!! Oh, and-.”
He kissed her, a passionate thing that seemed like it would last forever; but it didn’t, and he had to go. And just like that he was running towards the main power generators to drain them dry…or die in the process. He knew the Hellicarrier from top to bottom, bow to stern; it didn’t take him long to get to the generators, but when he did he felt scared. This could be the end of his life trying to absorb so much energy, but it was a necessary risk he had to take.
He removed everything that was conductible or non-conductible, leaving him in only his uniform. Then he walked to the central generator and found a rather disturbing piece that looked like he could fit inside. He stood in the center of the ring and got a firm grip, then he took a deep breath and prayed.
He opened himself to the electricity and came to an instant realization; a Sentinel beam paled in comparison to this. He screamed for all of five seconds before his voice caught in his throat, and he just convulsed in silent agony…at one point he stopped feeling pain and was just numb.
Bishop was a master energy manipulator, but this was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He could usually regulate the flow of how much he wanted, but right now it just felt like an endless floodgate had been opened and he was taking it all in. Power…unlimited…power!!! Electricity began arcing from his body as he absorbed more and more of the Hellicarrier’s life force.
Then the ship died and he fell to the floor. Red lights popped on throughout the ship seconds later as auxiliary power came online and the ship’s auto-pilot engaged, slowly but surely steering it away from it’s kamikaze crash course set in by Spiral. How long did it take for him to assimilate the energy into himself?
He didn’t know, he couldn’t think; once it was his though, he stood and walked back towards the bridge. There was one small issue though; his body now contained enough energy to raze a countryside to nothing but ash and cinders if used correctly, and while he could contain it, he didn’t know for how long.
He finally entered the bridge again, with purple electricity escaping from him in arcs every few seconds. His eyes were glowing brighter than ever before and his entire being was surrounded with an energy corona. He fidgeted and twitched as he saw the people gathered there. “I did it. I drained the generators and the ship reset it’s course. I might have a small problem though. “As if to hammer his point home, a tendril of electricity lashed out over the floor, finally stopping at a console and blowing it out. The floor was left scorched and molten slag.
Small problem indeed.
Feedback - May 6, 2012 06:27 PM (GMT)
There were bodies all over the place, several of them she knew personally. This was by far the most horrible day of her life. She had seen dead bodies before, a few of which she produced, but this was very different. These were people that she worked with, people that she ate lunch with and trained with. These were good people, even the ones that were not so keen on having mutants around. If Hill was still breathing she hoped the woman would never consider initiating something like the Thunderbolts ever again and if she wasn’t… then her damn successor better learn from her mistakes. Reina had been so trapped in her thoughts that she almost did not notice Lucas coming out of the bridge. She grabbed his arms and looked at his facial expression. It was concern, but not too much to indicate that Hill was out. He wasted no time in telling them that the director was still breathing.
As she tried to respond, he took her in a passionate kiss. It was the type of kiss that one received before their significant other went off to do something incredibly stupid or heroic or both even. “Lucas…” He had already left. Reina gazed longingly, but she could not worry about him. He was a soldier, a damn tough one. He could handle himself. She moved into the bridge where Cooper was already taking the necessary care of Hill to make sure that she stayed alive. Reina was not medical staff so she kept out of the man’s way, only helping when he asked for it. They had not been on the bridge long before the ship went silent for a moment and then came back to life. The crash course that it had been on was corrected by the autopilot springing to life and steering the Helicarrier. Reina stood next to the controls checking the systems. Whatever Bishop did turned on the back up and reset auxiliary.
She sighed with relief, but the concern had not left. Lucas entered the bridge again only this time he was supercharged. “Glad to see…” The energy around his body was visible and electricity arced here and there. “Oh my God, Lucas!” Reina shielded her face from the sparks as the console exploded. “You need to get out of here now! The director will make it; you get to the landing bay and empty out before you go nuclear or something. I love you man, don’t need you exploding.” That was the first time that she ever said told him that.