X-Men Mission: Town Called Malice - Log 3
Oct. 22nd, 2022 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsWildechild and Bevatron start their recon through the tunnels.
The long hallways of concrete were occasionally broken up with steel reinforcements and the odd expansion into bunker-like rooms. Heavy cables ran bolted along the ceilings and snaked through to provide power throughout, which fortunately was still on. It was stenciled in warnings and notes clearly from decades ago. The only clue it wasn't still world war era was in the larger rooms, where modern phones, laptops and televisions could be found. The entire place was like a tomb, more so with the discovery of the occasional area littered with dead bodies from what was obviously a one-sided conflict.
"I can still smell fuck all except shit and blood." Kyle complained quietly as he peered quickly around a corner. "Which, you know." He pointed at a particularly bloody body with a gaping hole in the shoulder. "Expected, but gross." He glanced back at his teammate. "Any of the wires like, live or is everything just fully fucked here?"
"Shielded and sealed up tight," Jean-Phillipe observed after taking a long look at the ceiling and walls. "I suppose that makes sense for whatever this facility was originally built for, but very well kept considering the age." He shrugged. "But given these cultist culs taking up residence, I suppose they would maintain the space. But still, very odd." Something most certainly did not seem right, beyond the bodies strewn about.
Kyle shrugged. "I mean it's a cult compound. Everything about this is fucking abnormal." He tilted his head, eyes unfocusing for a moment as he checked in with Jean. "Just giving the heads up that we have found fuck all except more dead people. Doesn't smell like cult anymore though, I was getting like, patchouli, armpit and aloe vera before. And Axe. Seriously, you'd think cultists wouldn't smell like a middle school locker room." His eyes traced the line of power cables. "You think we could... well, you, you think you could follow those to whatever powers this place?"
Jean-Phillipe's eyes narrowed and he gazed along the length of the cabling. "Doubtful, given the amount of shielding," he declared. "We would have just as much like simply following the physical cables, to be honest."
Before he could say anything further, the ping of a metal cylinder bouncing end over end down the hallway. The flashbang went off like a miniature sun, sound cascading through the narrow tunnel like a thunderclap; a physical force buffeting them both as much as the heat from the flash.
Kyle was in motion almost as soon as his ears screamed at him. He shoved into Jean-Phlippe, and rolled him to the ground, shielding him from the worst of the heat. He came up wary, ears past the point of ringing, the world muffled under the blanket of snapped eardrums and dark from the spots in his eyes. "Stay down." He ordered, quiet - with a matching hand gesture. Bevatron's ears were probably just as damaged, if not worse.
Jean-Phillipe had also hunched away from the first ping, but reflex and Kyle shielding him from the brunt only meant that he was still conscious after the flashbang went off, still able to somewhat see past the spots in his own eyes, and barely able to hear the loud thud of footsteps approaching from...somewhere. "Incoming," he attempted to hiss, but having no idea of what the actual volume of his voice was at the moment.
"No shit." Kyle hissed back. Hearing was coming back barely, but the other man's face had been right by Kyle's ears. "You stay down." His hands flashed out signals - tapped at his ears, then one hand, palm flat towards the ground. He crouched, one hand on the ground to aid in balance and waited, tapping his fist to his leg twice. "Two.'
They were fortunate they had stayed low, as the air above their heads suddenly was full of tiny objects which hissed past at high speeds. They could hear constant 'plock' sounds as they hit off the walls and pinwheeled off of the concrete. Behind the swarm, a man approached, moving carefully forward, holding what looked like a spear in front of him.
Kyle couldn't quite prevent the startled grunt as one of the pieces of metal bit into his leg. He bit down most of it, and pulled what looked like a bloody flechette out of the meat of his calf. He shook his head at Jean-Phillppe, and showed mostly clean fingers. "Okay. Healing." He signed, and then pulled the other man behind him more, waiting. He'd seen the bodies before - rent like they'd been through a blender, and now it seemed the blender was a person. He flexed his claws and then mimed the pulling motion that Bevatron often used in combat, trying to signal "I'll attack, then you zap." and hoping the other man could make sense of it.
Jean-Phillipe's instinct was to separate, present two targets rather than one, but the sight of the flechettes left him realizing that Wildchild was intentionally taking the brunt of things to shield him. From the jagged edges on the thing, it must have hurt going in -and- on the way out. He intentionally let a few sparks cascade off his hand as he gathered his power. From their minimal reaction with the barb, it was likely not metal - something organic?
A spear ripped through the space between them. At least, it seemed like a spear if it was transformed into energy. The crackling energy spike ripped up the stone, sending concrete shreds to rip through their uniforms.
The long hallways of concrete were occasionally broken up with steel reinforcements and the odd expansion into bunker-like rooms. Heavy cables ran bolted along the ceilings and snaked through to provide power throughout, which fortunately was still on. It was stenciled in warnings and notes clearly from decades ago. The only clue it wasn't still world war era was in the larger rooms, where modern phones, laptops and televisions could be found. The entire place was like a tomb, more so with the discovery of the occasional area littered with dead bodies from what was obviously a one-sided conflict.
"I can still smell fuck all except shit and blood." Kyle complained quietly as he peered quickly around a corner. "Which, you know." He pointed at a particularly bloody body with a gaping hole in the shoulder. "Expected, but gross." He glanced back at his teammate. "Any of the wires like, live or is everything just fully fucked here?"
"Shielded and sealed up tight," Jean-Phillipe observed after taking a long look at the ceiling and walls. "I suppose that makes sense for whatever this facility was originally built for, but very well kept considering the age." He shrugged. "But given these cultist culs taking up residence, I suppose they would maintain the space. But still, very odd." Something most certainly did not seem right, beyond the bodies strewn about.
Kyle shrugged. "I mean it's a cult compound. Everything about this is fucking abnormal." He tilted his head, eyes unfocusing for a moment as he checked in with Jean. "Just giving the heads up that we have found fuck all except more dead people. Doesn't smell like cult anymore though, I was getting like, patchouli, armpit and aloe vera before. And Axe. Seriously, you'd think cultists wouldn't smell like a middle school locker room." His eyes traced the line of power cables. "You think we could... well, you, you think you could follow those to whatever powers this place?"
Jean-Phillipe's eyes narrowed and he gazed along the length of the cabling. "Doubtful, given the amount of shielding," he declared. "We would have just as much like simply following the physical cables, to be honest."
Before he could say anything further, the ping of a metal cylinder bouncing end over end down the hallway. The flashbang went off like a miniature sun, sound cascading through the narrow tunnel like a thunderclap; a physical force buffeting them both as much as the heat from the flash.
Kyle was in motion almost as soon as his ears screamed at him. He shoved into Jean-Phlippe, and rolled him to the ground, shielding him from the worst of the heat. He came up wary, ears past the point of ringing, the world muffled under the blanket of snapped eardrums and dark from the spots in his eyes. "Stay down." He ordered, quiet - with a matching hand gesture. Bevatron's ears were probably just as damaged, if not worse.
Jean-Phillipe had also hunched away from the first ping, but reflex and Kyle shielding him from the brunt only meant that he was still conscious after the flashbang went off, still able to somewhat see past the spots in his own eyes, and barely able to hear the loud thud of footsteps approaching from...somewhere. "Incoming," he attempted to hiss, but having no idea of what the actual volume of his voice was at the moment.
"No shit." Kyle hissed back. Hearing was coming back barely, but the other man's face had been right by Kyle's ears. "You stay down." His hands flashed out signals - tapped at his ears, then one hand, palm flat towards the ground. He crouched, one hand on the ground to aid in balance and waited, tapping his fist to his leg twice. "Two.'
They were fortunate they had stayed low, as the air above their heads suddenly was full of tiny objects which hissed past at high speeds. They could hear constant 'plock' sounds as they hit off the walls and pinwheeled off of the concrete. Behind the swarm, a man approached, moving carefully forward, holding what looked like a spear in front of him.
Kyle couldn't quite prevent the startled grunt as one of the pieces of metal bit into his leg. He bit down most of it, and pulled what looked like a bloody flechette out of the meat of his calf. He shook his head at Jean-Phillppe, and showed mostly clean fingers. "Okay. Healing." He signed, and then pulled the other man behind him more, waiting. He'd seen the bodies before - rent like they'd been through a blender, and now it seemed the blender was a person. He flexed his claws and then mimed the pulling motion that Bevatron often used in combat, trying to signal "I'll attack, then you zap." and hoping the other man could make sense of it.
Jean-Phillipe's instinct was to separate, present two targets rather than one, but the sight of the flechettes left him realizing that Wildchild was intentionally taking the brunt of things to shield him. From the jagged edges on the thing, it must have hurt going in -and- on the way out. He intentionally let a few sparks cascade off his hand as he gathered his power. From their minimal reaction with the barb, it was likely not metal - something organic?
A spear ripped through the space between them. At least, it seemed like a spear if it was transformed into energy. The crackling energy spike ripped up the stone, sending concrete shreds to rip through their uniforms.
