Siege Perilous - Part 4 - Sniper
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xp_logsSiege Perilous Day 13 - X-Force’s desperate attempt to halt the ritual starts with a sniper.
The Hellfire Club had the best security money could buy. The physical building was in a dense block, protected by mercenaries and former special forces, warded against magic assault and watched by their criminal allies. It meant getting to a sniper position that allowed line of sight access into their courtyard and through the windows into the main hall, required a well trained person capable of sneaking past a dozen eyes, silently eliminating three different layers of exterior perimeter guards and free climbing four stories of brownstone to get into the right spot. Fortunately, X-Force had just such a person.
"Should have brought a rope," said person mused, grunting with the exertion of having to swing himself upward from a window ledge with only his fingers to propel him. No one responded, though he could clearly hear the tap-tapping of someone on their phone through an open comms line. "With a grappling hook. Padded with foam if noise is an issue."
"Shut up, North," someone sighed, clearly of the opinion that he was being louder than an unpadded five pound grappling hook.
"My name is now Kevin, thank you very much," North replied, but obliged by ceasing his commentary as he clambered up the last storey, swung his feet over the edge and quietly rolled himself on the thankfully flat roof. A film of white covered his irises as he padded across the roof half crouched, brushing wayward strands of hair off his forehead and under the black beanie he sported.
There was a strange energy in the air that made the hairs on the back of his nape stand on end, but North ignored it in favour of using his powers to select the spot with the best view-to-visibility ratio. The black case on his back came loose with a whisper of fibreglass against fabric that was easily lost in the wind. It opened without noise, revealing rows of bullets and lines of smooth metal that the German caressed with the callused pads of his finger before getting to work, deftly lifting and fitting together the modular pieces in seconds.
Moving into prone, he peered through the scope of his rifle with an occluded gaze and counted his potential targets, weighing them against the number of bullets in the case. Three pairs of stationary guards, four groups of four-man patrols. Seven blind spots. Probably not enough ammo, yet good enough as it were.
"Clearing a path through," he murmured into his comm, breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. "Follow the bloodshed. Move out in 35, 34, 33..."
North stopped counting as the first muffled shot was fired at 30, a guard bleeding from his forehead as he crumpled to the ground. His partner had exactly 2.65 seconds to react before joining him. The reactions were slow by his count but shouts started rising in quantity and volume as figures darted out from the shadows. Empty bullet cases hit the roof with an almost pleasant clink through the waft of gunpowder as the sniper worked diligently, firing, reloading and re-angling his weapon to draw a path ahead of his teammates across the courtyard and into the main hall.
Magic was best left to the experts. This, though, he could still do.
***
The alarm was sounded inside the Hellfire Club. Despite the intensity of the ritual, Selene held up one hand as she saw their security guard tentatively approach Amanda and waved him forward to her instead.
“What is it?”
“Sniper has engaged our exterior guards. We’ve got at least six men down and several squads unaccounted for.”
“A futile suicide attempt, it seems. Their sniper is that changeling. Send units into the surrounding perimeter and onto the roofs. You should be able to flush him out.” She dismissed the man and returned to the ritual, motioning for the Head Acolyte to continue. “A handful of broken fools won’t delay my glory tonight.”
The ritual continues.
TW: blood and death
Blood spilled, hot and thick, over Amanda's hands as she cut the throat of the Morlock being held by two guards. This one was a thin young man, possibly in his twenties - it was hard to tell under the rags and unkempt shock of hair and the bloody socket where his 'laser eye' had been - and he had glared at her with his one good eye until the life left him. His blood filled the large copper bowl set beneath him, and Amanda nodded at the guards.
"That should do."
The body was added to a pile off to the side, cast off shells sacrificed for Selene's ascent into godhood. More useful now than they'd ever been alive. Amanda shrugged and looked over to Clea to see if her apprentice had finished her own bloodletting.
Clea was already picking up the copper bowl carefully as it was filled with warm fresh liquid. She had no remorse in her eyes, for a moment she was no better than her Uncle in this regard. But to the interdimensional princess, they weren't her people. Feeling eyes on her, she looked over at Amanda and gave a nod. She was done and ready for the next steps.
Selene let her robe fall to the ground as the two witches approached, her naked skin preternaturally pale in the light of the candles that encircled the room. At her nod, Amanda and Clea slowly tipped the heavy bowls, letting their contents spill over her in a thick, red torrent, until she was covered head to toe.
As the blood ran down her body, Selene held up her hands, and twisted tendrils of black energy spilled from them. They writhed along her body, punching through the blood and drawing it up into it, fusing both elements together. In moments, the energy travelled along her body and now puddled at her feet; the blood and dark energy pooling around her. There was not a drop of blood left on her nude body as she motioned towards Illyana. The pool started to flow towards the young Russian woman, almost sentient and eager to possess her.
"I'm afraid this is the end for you, young one. Just a few more minutes and while you end, my new life begins."
"Gross," Illyana said flatly, keeping her eyes on Selene. She'd learned long ago not to waste her time on pathetic minions. "Why is it always like this with dark sorcerers? Have you never heard of modern hygiene? Trust me, it's a goddamn miracle." Her voice rang a little hollow, and she wondered if this lunatic knew what she was about to unleash on the world - if Belasco's theories held any water, anyway, which wasn't a sure thing - but in the end it was almost a relief, knowing that it would be over for her by then. Whatever happened.
Amanda recited the incantation, aware of only the magic coursing through the room, the power building up and centring on Illyana. It was heady, intoxicating and, although it was a terrible cliche, completely bewitching. It filled the empty spaces in her, blurred the memories of all that tormented her and for the first time in her life, she felt she finally had the power to keep herself safe. And she'd do anything to maintain that.
Clea felt herself being swayed with the magic as the ritual was taking place. It was almost like being drunk but more on a personal level. More intimate. Almost like it could last forever.
The explosion rocked the room, staggering them all as thw wave of sound washed over them. The stately doorway had disappeared in a cloud of acrid smoke, and gunfire began to pour through. A cultist to Selene's left went down as she pulled her robe from the ground and wrapped it around herself.
"Security! Security to the front!" She called, as the guards started to pick themselves up. Through the gap, the remaining members of X-Force poured, North in the lead. Adam and Jubilee followed him closely, an obvious last ditch assault on the club. Despite the surprise, the guards were already rallying and Selene gave the team a cold assessment. The sniper attacks that had been reported minutes before meant that their sharpshooter was out of play, and Clea and Amanda's insistence that they'd injured Jean Grey seemed to be supported by the lack of her presence. This wasn't a calculated strike. This was a suicide mission. Her lips curled in amusement.
"Kill them, my coven. Let their blood join the rest in our ritual." She said, pointing at the attackers. "We snuff out this pathetic group tonight, and tomorrow, Xavier's remaining brood joins as our slaves."
The Hellfire Club had the best security money could buy. The physical building was in a dense block, protected by mercenaries and former special forces, warded against magic assault and watched by their criminal allies. It meant getting to a sniper position that allowed line of sight access into their courtyard and through the windows into the main hall, required a well trained person capable of sneaking past a dozen eyes, silently eliminating three different layers of exterior perimeter guards and free climbing four stories of brownstone to get into the right spot. Fortunately, X-Force had just such a person.
"Should have brought a rope," said person mused, grunting with the exertion of having to swing himself upward from a window ledge with only his fingers to propel him. No one responded, though he could clearly hear the tap-tapping of someone on their phone through an open comms line. "With a grappling hook. Padded with foam if noise is an issue."
"Shut up, North," someone sighed, clearly of the opinion that he was being louder than an unpadded five pound grappling hook.
"My name is now Kevin, thank you very much," North replied, but obliged by ceasing his commentary as he clambered up the last storey, swung his feet over the edge and quietly rolled himself on the thankfully flat roof. A film of white covered his irises as he padded across the roof half crouched, brushing wayward strands of hair off his forehead and under the black beanie he sported.
There was a strange energy in the air that made the hairs on the back of his nape stand on end, but North ignored it in favour of using his powers to select the spot with the best view-to-visibility ratio. The black case on his back came loose with a whisper of fibreglass against fabric that was easily lost in the wind. It opened without noise, revealing rows of bullets and lines of smooth metal that the German caressed with the callused pads of his finger before getting to work, deftly lifting and fitting together the modular pieces in seconds.
Moving into prone, he peered through the scope of his rifle with an occluded gaze and counted his potential targets, weighing them against the number of bullets in the case. Three pairs of stationary guards, four groups of four-man patrols. Seven blind spots. Probably not enough ammo, yet good enough as it were.
"Clearing a path through," he murmured into his comm, breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. "Follow the bloodshed. Move out in 35, 34, 33..."
North stopped counting as the first muffled shot was fired at 30, a guard bleeding from his forehead as he crumpled to the ground. His partner had exactly 2.65 seconds to react before joining him. The reactions were slow by his count but shouts started rising in quantity and volume as figures darted out from the shadows. Empty bullet cases hit the roof with an almost pleasant clink through the waft of gunpowder as the sniper worked diligently, firing, reloading and re-angling his weapon to draw a path ahead of his teammates across the courtyard and into the main hall.
Magic was best left to the experts. This, though, he could still do.
***
The alarm was sounded inside the Hellfire Club. Despite the intensity of the ritual, Selene held up one hand as she saw their security guard tentatively approach Amanda and waved him forward to her instead.
“What is it?”
“Sniper has engaged our exterior guards. We’ve got at least six men down and several squads unaccounted for.”
“A futile suicide attempt, it seems. Their sniper is that changeling. Send units into the surrounding perimeter and onto the roofs. You should be able to flush him out.” She dismissed the man and returned to the ritual, motioning for the Head Acolyte to continue. “A handful of broken fools won’t delay my glory tonight.”
The ritual continues.
TW: blood and death
Blood spilled, hot and thick, over Amanda's hands as she cut the throat of the Morlock being held by two guards. This one was a thin young man, possibly in his twenties - it was hard to tell under the rags and unkempt shock of hair and the bloody socket where his 'laser eye' had been - and he had glared at her with his one good eye until the life left him. His blood filled the large copper bowl set beneath him, and Amanda nodded at the guards.
"That should do."
The body was added to a pile off to the side, cast off shells sacrificed for Selene's ascent into godhood. More useful now than they'd ever been alive. Amanda shrugged and looked over to Clea to see if her apprentice had finished her own bloodletting.
Clea was already picking up the copper bowl carefully as it was filled with warm fresh liquid. She had no remorse in her eyes, for a moment she was no better than her Uncle in this regard. But to the interdimensional princess, they weren't her people. Feeling eyes on her, she looked over at Amanda and gave a nod. She was done and ready for the next steps.
Selene let her robe fall to the ground as the two witches approached, her naked skin preternaturally pale in the light of the candles that encircled the room. At her nod, Amanda and Clea slowly tipped the heavy bowls, letting their contents spill over her in a thick, red torrent, until she was covered head to toe.
As the blood ran down her body, Selene held up her hands, and twisted tendrils of black energy spilled from them. They writhed along her body, punching through the blood and drawing it up into it, fusing both elements together. In moments, the energy travelled along her body and now puddled at her feet; the blood and dark energy pooling around her. There was not a drop of blood left on her nude body as she motioned towards Illyana. The pool started to flow towards the young Russian woman, almost sentient and eager to possess her.
"I'm afraid this is the end for you, young one. Just a few more minutes and while you end, my new life begins."
"Gross," Illyana said flatly, keeping her eyes on Selene. She'd learned long ago not to waste her time on pathetic minions. "Why is it always like this with dark sorcerers? Have you never heard of modern hygiene? Trust me, it's a goddamn miracle." Her voice rang a little hollow, and she wondered if this lunatic knew what she was about to unleash on the world - if Belasco's theories held any water, anyway, which wasn't a sure thing - but in the end it was almost a relief, knowing that it would be over for her by then. Whatever happened.
Amanda recited the incantation, aware of only the magic coursing through the room, the power building up and centring on Illyana. It was heady, intoxicating and, although it was a terrible cliche, completely bewitching. It filled the empty spaces in her, blurred the memories of all that tormented her and for the first time in her life, she felt she finally had the power to keep herself safe. And she'd do anything to maintain that.
Clea felt herself being swayed with the magic as the ritual was taking place. It was almost like being drunk but more on a personal level. More intimate. Almost like it could last forever.
The explosion rocked the room, staggering them all as thw wave of sound washed over them. The stately doorway had disappeared in a cloud of acrid smoke, and gunfire began to pour through. A cultist to Selene's left went down as she pulled her robe from the ground and wrapped it around herself.
"Security! Security to the front!" She called, as the guards started to pick themselves up. Through the gap, the remaining members of X-Force poured, North in the lead. Adam and Jubilee followed him closely, an obvious last ditch assault on the club. Despite the surprise, the guards were already rallying and Selene gave the team a cold assessment. The sniper attacks that had been reported minutes before meant that their sharpshooter was out of play, and Clea and Amanda's insistence that they'd injured Jean Grey seemed to be supported by the lack of her presence. This wasn't a calculated strike. This was a suicide mission. Her lips curled in amusement.
"Kill them, my coven. Let their blood join the rest in our ritual." She said, pointing at the attackers. "We snuff out this pathetic group tonight, and tomorrow, Xavier's remaining brood joins as our slaves."
