xp_logs | Genosha: The Dawn of Liberation: The Hydra Stirs

The mutants begin their desperate on the monsterous Moreau. However, they have one advantage that Thomas doesn't; teamwork.

Heat was radiating off Moreau like a shield, too intense for anyone but the fireproof or invulnerable to stand. He was using it as a weapon, forcing them to retreat before their lungs were seared from the temperature. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the luxury of a wide open battlefield to maneuver in. Eventually, he was going to be able to trap some of them between the walls and the blistering heat, and kill them without moving a claw.

Kane dodged another blast of lava from the back guns, blessing his renewed powers even in the desperation of the fight.

“That heat shield is going to get us killed if we don’t do something now. Sam, can you see a control unit or a generator or something that is emitting it?” He called over the comms.

"Roger, I'm on that." Sam blasted around Moreau, dodging the monster's assaults as he did so. Flying overhead he looked down, inspecting the thing's grotesque body in search of something like Kane had mentioned, some sort of power source or control panel that they could attack. "There looks to be some sort of housing near the back, I reckon that could be what we're looking for." He was no expert at that kind of thing but it certainly seemed to fit the bill.

"If you get me close enough I can Read it and tell you where the shield's housed!" Adrienne shouted up at Sam, pausing in her steady stream of weapons fire in an attempt to make herself better heard.

Angel had spent most of her time dodging in and out of blasts and listening to the chatter over the comms. She stopped now, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings and thinking hard. "Even if she can find where the shield is housed, the only ones who are going to be able to get in close enough to take it out are the heat resistant," she said to no one in particular. That category, at the moment, was largely comprised of her. No help there. "Is there any way to turn a person with more upper body strength heat resistant?"

"There is, although it's going to hurt like a son of a bitch." Garrison bounced a heavy case off of Moreau's chassis, with little effect. "Angel, I need you to bring up the heat around me. If you keep it steady, my skin will adapt to it as the temperature goes up. Enough that I can last inside that heat shield long enough to hopefully tear it down. But I have to know exactly where it is."

"We're on it, boss." That was where Sam came in, and he landed over by Adrienne, extending a hand to the woman for her to join him. He could get her close enough to get a read on Moreau and find the exact location that Kane needed. It would be difficult, and he would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't a little afraid that Adri was putting herself at risk here, but they were in the middle of a battlefield and it wasn't his call to make, so he'd just play his part and do all that he could to make sure Adri got the read she needed as safely as possible.

"Your chariot awaits, ma'am."

"Why thank you, kind sir," Adrienne retorted with a smirk, doing her best Southern Belle. She loved flying, although this probably wasn't the best time to stop and take in the scenery. There wasn't much scenery here she wanted to look at, anyway. Still, she tried to pretend this was a pleasure trip as Sam blasted her to the housing on Moreau's back. Adrienne reached her left hand out, recognizing that whichever one she used was probably going to get burned, and the left was the least useful. She might have been able to get the reading with just a fingertip, but with the adrenaline and difficulty in concentration she was experiencing, she wanted to make sure she didn't fuck this up, so she slapped her whole hand palm-down on the back housing. The pain hit her immediately, skin charring under the heat. She had to fight to peel her hand off as it seemed to have melted onto the casing. And then there was just the shock, which, thankfully, dulled the pain. "Got it," she said through gritted teeth.

Moreau lashed as Sam with his tail and miniguns, but his blast shield was strong enough to shrug off the attack as he pulled Adrienne away from the chassis, clutching her burnt hand. An arc of lava nearly cooked them both as he went down behind cover.

Adrienne stumbled as Sam landed next to Garrison and Angel, feeling nauseous and light-headed. "There's a mess of yellow wires over the left shoulder and a silver rectangle about the size of a breadbox. That's it," she told him. "Y'know, whenever you're done barbecuing yourself."

The Canadian nodded, almost black as his skin adapted to the temperature, eyes hidden behind a dark membrane. "Molly!" He dodge a missile a got over to where the young girl was. "I need to get on the back of that thing. You think you can make that with a throw from here?"
Molly blinked up at Mr. Kane's appearance for a moment then nodded quickly. "Never threw a person before but I can try!" Usually it was stuff. Stuff didn't wiggle around. But people were definitely lighter than the stuff she'd lifted lately.

"Okay--counta three...." she said. Her eyes glowed purple as she grabbed Mr. Kane and picked him up by the torso, spinning the two of them around to pick up some speed.

"1...2...3! "

She let go, launching him at the Moreaumonster.
Kane arced over Moreau, twisting to avoid a spike as he entered into the heat shield. It clawed at him like a physical force, even with his omni-skin protecting him. He landed hard, grabbing part of the metal and crushing it with his grip as he fought to hold on. Moreau thrashed, trying to dislodge him.

"Not happening, you son of a bitch!" Kane smashed down, the frustration of the last two weeks channeled into the blow, and tearing open the metal armor. He ripped the housing clear, tossing it aside as the computer came into view. He grabbed for it, but a pair of metal tentacles grabbed him, and with desperate alacrity, tossed him from the top. The Canadian landed rolling, sliding along the concrete.

"Cyclops!" He yelled, scrambling to his feet and pointing. "The computer! Hit the goddamn computer!"

Scott looked over at the gesticulating Canadian, turning his head to locate the area Kane was indicating. Scott nodded and took a deep breath before gathering his remaining energy, his eye started to glow as Scott quickly took aim at the exposed computer. With a yell Scott unleashed his gathered energy into a red blast of energy that shot up through Moreau's attacks to smash into the exposed computer. A computer which died in a cascade of flying microchips and sparks.

"A minor setback, bastards. I've got other ways to cook the flesh from your bones." Moreau snarled, and redoubled his attack, sending them running as volleys of gunfire and missiles chased them from their defensive positions.

“Burn! Burn!” Moreau screamed, his bubbling, sickly laughter punctuating his words as the twin cannons on his back shot fiery streams of lava around the prison block. The danger was the natural stickiness of the lava, and Moreau’s blasts were quickly boxing in their ability to move and cutting them off from coverage. Worst, because he had incorporated Amara’s powers into his crazed mutation process, control over the lava was now a tug of war between them.

" you="You">burn," Amara growled at the monster. This was her power, her domain. She finally had control back, over both herself and her powers, and she would not submit again. She would not. Wreathed in flame, catching the lava streams before they hit any of the others, she pushed back against his powers, ignoring her fatigue and letting her fury feed into her control.

Watching the streams of lava actually bend to Amara's will was unworldly and strangely beautiful, despite the chaos. Not just in spite of the chaos, but perhaps because of it, glowing red of the molten rock a bright contrast to the steel and concrete, and Amara's face, vulnerable with it's lack of hair all too human in comparison to Moreau. Marie-Ange had to catch herself from watching. All of her exposure to the unreal and the knowledge of Amara's abilities had simply not prepared her for another woman her own age bathing in fire and molten rock and emerging unscathed like Botticelli's Venus.

When Amara was joined by an Atlas, and the first marble globe that the titan threw was unharmed by the spraying lava, the molten rock passing through it without slowing, her momentary pause broke.

Then Atlas had a twin. Ten feet tall, towering over Amara and the original image, and this one flung it's globe, and it hit one of the guns, deforming into ash colored ooze that sizzled off the gun. This Atlas was solid, and Marie-Ange met eyes with Artie, nodding at the young man to keep going.

Artie moved his Atlas to one side, a flickering stop motion parody of movement before it flung an entirely fake globe, visual distraction to follow Marie-Ange's actual threat. He took a deep breath and the Atlas froze, letting him bring up an image of the Nike of Samothrake, setting it directly across from the Atlas. With two images of this size, he couldn't make them move. He unclenched one fist to give Marie-Ange a thumbs up.

Marie-Ange's projected Atlas went the way of his globe, dissolving as the lava hit it. Almost as fast as the first went down, a second came up, seeming to grow from the puddles of it's predecessor, and with it, a massive one-winged woman, headless and armless, and yet unerringly moving to block Moreau's lava. Nike went forward, and Moreau crushed her, the image barely resisting.

And ten feet away, Marie-Ange faltered. Her knees hit the ground, and the rough orange fabric of the jumpsuit tore and her vision went black momentarily before she blinked away the blindness and pressed on, pushing herself back upright, and making another Nike to replace the lost one, and another Atlas hurling another marble globe that dissolved midair.

Artie's images began to flicker, the strain of keeping two large, detailed and complex images taking a toll on him. He let them go, replacing both with the illusion of pools of ooze (identicall pools of ooze) matching the ones Marie-Angie had created. He rubbed his eyes briefly, a deep stab of a headache building behind his eyes and brought up a third image, this time of Michaelangelo's David (it was all white. White was nice and manageable right about now) in front of the crane.

As lava and destruction started to spew from Moreau as Amara fought him for control, Vance pushed himself up into the air above those whole scene, the pink nimbus highlighting his body as he pushed himself skyward, surveying the chaos below him, looking the best spot to apply himself.

As he watched Moreau react and battle the imaginary titans, Vance surveyed the scene. And when Moreau swung for the materialized David, his massive arm swinging through the image with a scream of rage, Vance took his opportunity to strike.

A suddenly beam of pink light streaked out from Vance's head, grabbing the top of the crane just above the status of David, and the young man gritted his teeth tightly as he clutched his hands, as if grabbing the crane itself, and then wrenched his arms downward violently, releasing a ragged scream as he did so, ignoring the blood that started flowing from his nose as the blood vessels ruptured with the stress, "Nyaaaargh!!"

The metal of the crane's arm screeched violently in protest at the sudden leveraged pressure against it. But as Vance continued to keep pressure up, glaring intently at his target, the metal squealed its final protest and almost snapped, bending sharply along heat-weakened steel girders-- and a few tons of metal crane literally toppled violently on top of Moreau's arm, smashing through the armor and weapons, mangling it beyond repair in a cacophony of rending metal and destruction.

Catgirl in his arms, Warren was soaring over the battle, moving towards the ideal position to drop Sharon onto the hulking monster. He flashed her a small smile moments before he dropped her.

"Good luck," he said quietly before letting her go, winging away as soon as he had.

Catseye had time to lick Warren's nose before he set her free, where she shifted into girlform and then BigCat on the way down. She hit the creature with a metallic thunk and started to rip the housing for the lava gun control panel off with her claws, giving it one last good tear with her teeth to expose it completely before she was shaken off, flying through the air and hitting the wall with a thud, where she crumpled into a ball and stayed, her breathing shallow.

Lex watched as the cat exposed the system for the gun and he reached out and noted the junctions he'd have to overload to cripple the weapon. He reached out and stopped the power to the heat regular. Within moments the system started to overheat and Lex fed more power into it. The results were appreciably destructive: the gun blew apart with a thunderous roar of sheering metal.

He ran to Catseye's side, "please be safe." He saw her chest rise and fall and he sighed.

Small heat-seeking missiles flew out of the box launchers mounted high on Moreau’s back, like robot shoulders armed with dangerous weapons. The salvos had driven several of the fliers back to the ground, and now they threated to saturate areas that were being used as cover by other people. With the enclosed nature of the cell block, it was only a material of time before a volley overwhelmed their defenses and killed several mutants all at once.

The entirety of this situation was unacceptable, but the part that irritated Jean-Paul more than anything else was that he'd been forced to retreat to a point on the ground. The salvos had kept him immobile because he wasn't suicidal, but when they paused and he took a chance to see what was coming next, a chill slid down his spine. Without really thinking, he wolf-whistled to get Angel's attention and pointed up. They had to keep the missiles from reaching the others and the two of them were the only ones who stood a chance of outrunning them for long enough to make a difference.

The Quebecois took to the air at speed, hoping Angel's fire-form would help to attract the already airborne missiles.

Angel looked around at the sound of Jean-Paul's whistle, her lips twitching slightly into a completely humorless smile as she realized what he was proposing. As soon as she saw an opening she shot up, blue flames forming in the air around her, staying close to her body and sending her heat signature sky-rocketing, turning her into a neon sign for the heat-seeking missiles. "Dance my puppets, dance," she muttered as the missiles turned in her direction, and she streaked off, dragging the missiles away from everyone else. Now all she had to do was make sure she didn't get shot down. And really, how hard could that be?

North spent precious seconds staring up at the fire show, or more specifically at the missiles that were tailing the two mutants. “Well, that’s not good,” he muttered, craning his neck to peer up Moreau's side. When he spotted the missile launchers, the Maverick paused for a moment, his eyes whiting over as he deliberately searched for the best course of action to take, considering and discarding several options before he made up his mind. It had been a while since he had needed to go beyond relying on the almost subconscious shifting byplays in his head. But he could deal with the migraine later.

“Pyro!” he called as blue irises bled through the film of white, the vision in his mind now a reassuring replay of his decision. Nevermind that they had never spoken in their lives. “Grab your beau and we’ll go someplace fun to play with fire.” The German man pointed his handgun at the launchers. "Just stick close to me and I'll get you there."

[[Placeholder Da'mien - Feel free to assume that North'll start climbing once John and Amara approach him. And/or take some liberty with what he's doing.]]

Amara shot North a look for being referred to, basically, as someone's girlfriend - she was her own person, thank you very much. But she moved with John regardless, shifting into her fire form. It was familiar, and for the moment - it made her feel safe.

Thanks to North's powers, they avoided Moreau's scrambling attacks, spikes kicking up concrete chips as they missed. As the flyers streaked overhead, more missiles climbed after them, trying to kill them by saturating the skies.

[Da'mien to start heating the launchers]

Amara flung more flame at the missile launchers, watching the metal starting to warp and buckle under the twin assaults. There was a ghostly sense of satisfaction on her face as the metal glowed hot, and she glanced at John with a smile on her face.

"We should burn things together more often, lover."

Angel would admit, she was starting to get tired. Flying around and around and around non-stop at the same speed wasn't what one would call easy. But Angel didn't slow, didn't even try to entertain the thought because this was far too important and no. Just no. There would be time for exhausted later.

Finally, Angel pulled a wide turn, teasing the missiles as they turned with her, and headed back for the monstrosity that was Moreau. "Just a little further," she muttered, coaxing both herself and the missiles. "Come on my pretties, don't leave me now."

She turned up, flying close along the outline of Moreau's armor. Target: the missile launchers. As soon as Angel was close enough she banked a very sharp turn, bouncing off her path and then, just to make sure the missiles stayed locked on the launchers, Angel did something possibly not so smart - she cut off all heat.

After watching Angel turn around and head back toward Moreau, Jean-Paul performed a complicated tuck and roll in mid-air. He dropped, the missiles still behind him trailing in his wake, and then sped up. Catching himself a few meters above the floor, the Québécois hurtled toward the creature as fast as he was able, disregarding the way his stolen clothing tore from the force. He could feel the heat from the chassis as he sped toward the one on his side and wished that he had some minor form of resistance to it the way he did to the cold, but it wasn't important for now.

Flying as close to the chassis as it was possible for him to get, the Québécois could only hope that the plan would work. As he continued past Moreau, he saw Angel's fire flicker out - she was still in the air. Without thinking, he twisted around and allowed himself to hit feet-first before rebounding off of the wall - if he'd been in a gym with judges and that had been a landing, they would have said he stuck it. However, he was far too busy trying to get to Angel to worry about that.

The missiles tracked in on the white hot launchers, slamming into them with massive force, staggering Moreau for a moment as both ruined launchers belched smoke.

In retrospect, Angel had not thought her last stunt through. Well, she had. Sort of. She'd thought through as far as it was the best way to get the missiles off her back. She hadn't really thought anyone would notice, though. So she was very surprised when a pair of arms snagged her midair. "My hero," she said with a rather stupid, exhausted smile as she tilted her head up to look at Jean-Paul. "Thanks for that, really."

An attack was beaten back as a cloud of green gas suddenly erupted from Moreau’s body. Only a lucky instinctual reaction and a gale force wind from Ororo had kept the gas from claiming three lives. Unfortunately, there was more gas pumping out in a steady stream, and it wouldn’t be long before it filled the combat area. Mutants and X-Men fell back, looking for a way to stop the gas.

Ororo's eyes darted to the X-Men around her, quickly sizing them up and formulating a plan as she funnelled the noxious gas away from the battlefield. First and foremost, they needed a distraction, something or someone to draw the poison gas away from the more vulnerable members of the team. "Lorna, Sooraya, stay behind me," she ordered, sending another gust of wind towards the injectors. "Cammie, Sam - we need to direct the spray away from the field and buy some time. Do you think you can do that?"

"Fuck, I can walk right through it if you want," Cammie said with what could only be defined as a shit-eating grin. "It'll taste great." Of course, there was the question of how much she'd be able to take in before having it come right back out, she wasn't a unicorn or anything idiotic like that. No magical air purification from her. Just some storage.

"Then I can give it right back to the fucker."

"I'm on it." Sam didn't have any resistance to the poison at all, not even when he was blasting - his blast shield was gas permeable, after all - but he'd be able to divert Moreau's attention from the main gathering of combatants in order for Cammie to do her job in containing the noxious fumes.

He leapt into the air, blasting towards Moreau and buzzing in front of his face to grab his attention before darting away to an empty area off to one side of him. Thankfully the poison gas injectors tracked him, belching out poisonous fumes in his direction.

"Now... that is only a temporary solution," Ororo murmured, half to herself, half to the two women standing beside her. "Let's see if we cannot find something a bit more permanent. Sooraya, I think we might be able to work together to clog the dispensers, at which point Lorna, you can remove them without harming anyone. Let us work quickly, there is not much time."

"That we can do." Sooraya nodded, carefully eying the various locations of the injectors and taking them in. "It should not too different from trying to clog a gun or another objects." With those words she dissolved back into her sand form, hovering in place as she waited of for her former teacher to do her part.

It was a simple enough task to call up a wind that would sweep Sooraya up and direct her towards the belching nozzles, the gusts serving to clear the area of poison even as they deposited the swirling mass of sand over the injectors.

The only thing Sooraya had to do while in sand form was the more detailed aiming. The winds made sure she went in the right general direction and had plenty of force to penetrate the injectors, but she had to make sure that she filled the injectors quickly enough, so the fumes stopped belching.

Lorna watched as Sooraya disappeared into sand and up to the injectors. Once the fumes stopped, Lorna moved the nozzles. "Okay, I got it." Being careful as possible, she didn't want to die from breathing in poison gas.

Sam made a wide turn, careful to avoid any remaining gas, then curved back to Storm and the others. "Just the reservoirs of the stuff left now. Think you can get rid of it once we bust it loose, storm?" He'd be more than able to help with that as long as Ororo was able to safely dispose of the fumes once they'd been set free, removing one more weapon from Moreau's extensive arsenal.

"That should not be a problem - all at once is certainly easier than fits and starts," Ororo confirmed with a nod. "Get ready to hold your breath..." A great gust of wind whipped around her, and as Sam and Lorna began to smash open the reservoirs she funnelled the toxic gas directly upwards, high above the field of engagement and away from anybody who might be affected by its fumes.

Moreau twisted, trying to get free of the attack. But his gas reservoirs were shattered, and he didn't have time to focus on them. Instead, he knocked Sam flying and into Lorna, breaking their hold and re-establishing himself to make a fresh attack, ready to take revenge instead.