Or Is He Both? - Fight! (Day 3)
Aug. 28th, 2024 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsTeam One encounters an operative known as Bushwhacker while getting Del out.
Carl - better known as Bushwhacker these days - watched as his adversaries headed towards the exit of the lab. He followed them on silent feet, sticking to the shadows until the opportune time to strike.
He gave an almost silent signal to the rest of the operatives, a single, faint beep in their ears, then counted to ten before launching a modified blast ball into the group. There was a concussive wave and a bright flash as it hit, and dark purple smoke started to billow around the clustered group. A grim smile crossed his face for just a second before settling back into his normal flat professionalism.
Another signal went out. Two tones, time to engage. Operatives poured out of the shadows, kitted out for protection. Professional. Three converged on the known biggest threat, currently in the form of former Brotherhood member Jean-Phillipe Colbert, and another two converged on the mutant known as Cyclops. The final two converged on the mostly unconscious man, attempting to reobtain their prize.
Bushwhacker started taking shots, aiming at the feet of anyone that got clear of the smoke. His mental plan to make the chaos a beautiful tableau required the pieces staying where he wanted them, lest the canvas become too messy.
There was always something, some unknown element that would throw a spanner in the works, it was always the case. It was getting annoying, the way that fate always saw fit to disrupt his plans, almost like there was something out there determined to see him suffer. The flashbang would have been bad enough, but the swirling purple smoke was worse, making it hard to see, hard to recover in the smoke. It was only instinct that saved Scott, honed through decades of training and combat that had him moving, dropping back and to the side, a hand reaching up to slap away a fist. "Ambush, Fall back and support one another. We'll make them come to us"
Jean-Phillipe jumped quickly to the 'support' part of the instruction, not so much the 'fall back' portion. Or at least only as far as Scott had fallen back - his hands sparked, and he slipped smoothly into the spaces Cyclops' vision could not cover as easily. The smoke was certainly an impediment to being able to check on the other members of the team, or the pair they were escorting.
For her part, Nica needed no checking on. The flashbang hadn't impacted her and while the smoke was an impediment, switching to infra-red meant she could see the outlines of everyone in the corridor. With a quick glance at Rick and Del, she made sure they were okay before diving into the fray. Flashes of red light pierced the smoke, well-placed beams engaging the attackers trying to reclaim Del.
"Stay behind me, yeah?" Marius told Rick, positioning himself between the two men and the action. He'd had the presence of mind to follow Nica's example and cycle his vision to infrared, but he wasn't advanced enough with her powers to mimic the intangibility required for flight, nor did he want to risk -- or, frankly, cause -- friendly fire. Perhaps he should have stacked an additional mutation, but whilst Nica's power could absorb gamma there was no way to tell what might happen if it were commingled with another. Ah, well. If he was shot he'd packed Kyle's healing factor for emergencies.
"You got it," Rick agreed. He knew what his role was here- keep Del and himself from getting shot. He wasn't the kid who once was who would try to rush in. Better leave this to the big hitters- and these four were proving to be really big hitters. Still, he moved to position Del so the teenager was more against the wall and if one of them was more likely to shoot it would be him. Thankfully Del was able to stand with minimal support now.
"Are they shooting at me?" Del asked, suddenly much more aware.
"Don't worry, kiddo, the big guns have got it handled," Rick assured him.
Carl adjusted on the fly, a long tone indicating a change towards a specific one of the mutants - in this case, the woman in the fray that seemed to be entirely unphased by both the flash and the smoke. His eyes narrowed, and his arm cycled to a tranq gun as he took aim at her torso while hoping to bring her in as an extra for study. If she wasn't harmed by the two, she might be worth something. Useful.
The tranq dart sailed through Nica, winding up in the wall behind her. She glanced up, trying to track where it had come from, while also tracking friend from foe. "We have someone firing tranqs, team. Looks like they're looking for new specimens to replace Del," she said into her mic. "Stay alert."
While he might not possess the enhanced senses that other members of the team had, Jean-Phillipe had quite a bit of experience dealing with hampered vision and the like. Enough of the other members of the team could blind, deafen, or otherwise impair people around them, so between sparring and some of Garrison's more devious Danger Room scenarios... Plus he had seen several of the operatives key on him before the smoke had fully engulfed the space, so knowing that attackers were headed on him had him prepared enough to engage.
He hunched downward slightly, minimizing the target he made to whoever was shooting into the scrum, and then a trio of forms came dashing in, momentarily distinguishable amid the eddies of smoke around them. They were well trained, doing their best to spread around Bevatron and cage him in. But 'well trained' doesn't necessarily mean a cohesive unit, and against multiple opponents, the trick is to keep in motion, and use one or more to block the others' lines of attack. And so Jean-Phillipe darted forward to grapple the one of the three he could make out most clearly, circling and wrestling him off balance to interpose a body between the X-man and the other two attackers.
There was a time when Scott had been concerned that his powers would burst out of control, that he'd be left to contend without his sight, it was something that had happened in the middle of battle more than once.
So he'd prepared.
His senses weren't a match for many of his teammates, but they didn't need to be, they just needed to hear enough to react. The shuffle of a foot and sound of clothing was enough to have him shift, one arm sweeping out to knock aside a punch. It wasn't just defense, he was looking for their location. An arm twisted, wrist clasping hold of the man's as he tugged at his hand, pulling him off balance as a rising knee sent one of the guards into sweet unconsciousness. Then the X-Man fell still, waiting for the next opponent to close with him, willing to take a blow or two to knock them out quickly..
Rick took advantage of the fight the X-Men were putting up to keep Del moving- keep them to the shadows and out of the way and on the way out while the X-Men did the fighting. That's how it was with superheroes- you let them draw the attention while the civilians got out. And these four were good at drawing attention.
He stayed mostly behind Marius, especially since Del was still stumbling after weeks in the tube. But whatever healing factor had put him in a trance and kept him alive instead of dying was making him recover quickly.
Marius' amber eyes narrowed to slits as they picked up a man-sized heat signature coming towards them. Someone had slipped past the team and was advancing on the trio, gun raised.
Raised, but not firing. This, Marius realised, was probably because he had soaked up so much gamma that whatever data his googles fed him could not conclusively discern the difference between Marius and Del.
"Stop ri-"
Men wielding rifles did not expect to be rushed, but Marius had always considered common sense to be more of a guideline. In an instant the Australian had shoved the rifle aside, ripped off the man's goggles, and thrust a hand directly into his face.
Marius had a personal aversion to the smell of burning flesh, and regardless of circumstances it just wasn't on to give some stranger cancer. Really, when it came down to it "only" searing a hole in someone's retinas was practically doing them a favour.
The man's scream at the point-blank burst of visible light was cut off by a wet choke as Marius drove his foot into his gut and kicked him into the nearest wall. Their assailant slid down to the floor, keening. Satisfied, the X-Man turned back to Rick and Del.
"Let's keep moving, shall we?" he said pleasantly.
There was a burst of noisy fire as Bushwhacker cycled through weapons. Pellets, bullets, and small metal balls sprayed around the group, nicking grooves in concrete and sending the tiny chips towards the would-be heroes as he stalked forward, signalling to the team - what was left of it - to advance in with weapons hot. The beautiful art he'd planned was already ruined, but he could still make a Pollock out of things.
Another cycle, and flame started to shoot from his hand, a slow gout that increased in strength and length the longer it was able to flare. Exhausting work, but excellent for catching the unaware.
The man with the multiple weapons was the leader. Nica made a beeline for him, adjusting her wavelengths as she walked through the flames and prepared to disable what she thought was a device. Only, it wasn't a device, it was the man's hand. Well, that made things more complicated - she wasn't about to fry off somebody's hand, at least not without trying something else first. "Bevatron!" she spoke through her communicator. "We need to swap targets! The leader is a mutant and I think your powers would do better with him! I can deal with your guys!"
Jean-Phillipe disengaged, shoving one of the mercenaries into the other two, resulting in several precious seconds to target swap with Nica, amused at the idea of the men attempting to hit someone they could not touch. He darted toward where his teammate had been and behind him several flashes indicated her arrival and disposal of the men he had been fighting. As he closed with the leader, he directed several bolts of electricity, low-energy test shots. As he watched the play of electricity across the hand, his eyes narrowed and he understood why Nica had called out to him. A more powerful blast was enough to send Bushwacker's attempt at a return shot wide, though apparently there was some kind of EMP hardening at play. "Shielding? A solid thought, but not enough," he declared, drawing deep on his reserves and moving inside the man's field of fire.
By the time he was done, an involuntarily twitching played over his opponent, the hand smoking a bit from the fried circuits inside. "Clear!" he called, just as Nica announced the same from where she stood over a pile of unconscious mercs.
Team Two fights operatives looking to protect the data.
The operatives that rushed in were nondescript, in classic black head-to-toe coverings, but they carried big AIM-tech guns and moved like a unit. They went to shoot at Rogue, who was closest to all the precious data.
"Just once." Kyle planted one hand on Rogue's head for less than a second and leapt over her to come down foot first into the face of an operative. "I want these assholes to wear the fun colors. Black's boring."
"They're afraid we'd laugh, I think." Sooraya relayed over her comms as she shifted, diving low to avoid the first bursts of plasma. Wrapping a tendril around the ankle of the woman she'd ziptied, she gave a yank, pulling her under the questionable shelter of the table, but it was the best she could do at the moment. Other tendrils lashed out a second later, pulling the first two operatives of their feet. "Watch it, Mayhem!"
"LAUGH ANYWAY." Mayhem jumped, webs shooting to the ceiling above the operatives and launching herself forward, tendrils snapping out to wrap around the gun in question and crumpling it with a laugh of her own. "HELLO, YOU WANT TO PLAY?" A wide mouth full of sharp teeth split across her face, and she beckons the still standing operatives with two blue-tipped claws.
Rogue was having a blast, punching people and not taking names. Did it matter to her? Not really. What was important as these fuckers went down for what they were doing. In a weird way, she was happy to let Logan take over her mind a bit, let the bloodlust run. She could sniff the fear, the terror, and let it fill her up.
She could feel her fists going numb but she wasn't going to stop until she was told to.
Dust dropped several of the guns she had liberated on a heap to the side, taking in the fight with a quick glance to see where she most needed. Her 'eyes' almost narrowed when she caught sight of Rogue's almost wild swings and the look in her eyes was almost distant. Quickly activating her comms, she quickly signaled: "Rogue, are you okay?"
The sound of her friend jolted her and she stopped suddenly. No one was dead, but there were several fallen bodies, and she could feel herself panting a bit. She took a deep breath. "Uh. Let's define okay later, sugar...'cuz I need a moment.... and I don't know if I've left much for the rest of us."
"Oh no, less being shot at." Kyle took a moment to pause, and then delivered a stomp to the ribs of the operative he'd taken to the ground. "Remind me to buy you flowers for taking out like, a bazillion of these assholes. Or cookies or beer or whatever. How Wolverine-y are you feeling in terms of thank you gifts?" He was deceptively casual, despite sporting blooded forearm from a plasma bolt he'd barely dodged. "Cause this looks like that sort of situation."
THWP
Web shot at the ceiling, Mayhem swinging in a wide arc over the heads of her teammates with a laugh, hands moving in a blur of poses.
THWP THWP TH-THWP THWP THWP
A set of operatives take the first two webs to the gut and end up spun together and dangling from the ceiling like an oversized pinata from the stutter-blast of webbing, the final two bursts snatching their guns and webbing them to the ceiling. April lets go of the web mid-air, arcing her body into a piked double Arabian that lands her next to Kyle. "Cool, are there more? The plasma bolts were an okay workout, but the aiming was pretty predictable."
Carl - better known as Bushwhacker these days - watched as his adversaries headed towards the exit of the lab. He followed them on silent feet, sticking to the shadows until the opportune time to strike.
He gave an almost silent signal to the rest of the operatives, a single, faint beep in their ears, then counted to ten before launching a modified blast ball into the group. There was a concussive wave and a bright flash as it hit, and dark purple smoke started to billow around the clustered group. A grim smile crossed his face for just a second before settling back into his normal flat professionalism.
Another signal went out. Two tones, time to engage. Operatives poured out of the shadows, kitted out for protection. Professional. Three converged on the known biggest threat, currently in the form of former Brotherhood member Jean-Phillipe Colbert, and another two converged on the mutant known as Cyclops. The final two converged on the mostly unconscious man, attempting to reobtain their prize.
Bushwhacker started taking shots, aiming at the feet of anyone that got clear of the smoke. His mental plan to make the chaos a beautiful tableau required the pieces staying where he wanted them, lest the canvas become too messy.
There was always something, some unknown element that would throw a spanner in the works, it was always the case. It was getting annoying, the way that fate always saw fit to disrupt his plans, almost like there was something out there determined to see him suffer. The flashbang would have been bad enough, but the swirling purple smoke was worse, making it hard to see, hard to recover in the smoke. It was only instinct that saved Scott, honed through decades of training and combat that had him moving, dropping back and to the side, a hand reaching up to slap away a fist. "Ambush, Fall back and support one another. We'll make them come to us"
Jean-Phillipe jumped quickly to the 'support' part of the instruction, not so much the 'fall back' portion. Or at least only as far as Scott had fallen back - his hands sparked, and he slipped smoothly into the spaces Cyclops' vision could not cover as easily. The smoke was certainly an impediment to being able to check on the other members of the team, or the pair they were escorting.
For her part, Nica needed no checking on. The flashbang hadn't impacted her and while the smoke was an impediment, switching to infra-red meant she could see the outlines of everyone in the corridor. With a quick glance at Rick and Del, she made sure they were okay before diving into the fray. Flashes of red light pierced the smoke, well-placed beams engaging the attackers trying to reclaim Del.
"Stay behind me, yeah?" Marius told Rick, positioning himself between the two men and the action. He'd had the presence of mind to follow Nica's example and cycle his vision to infrared, but he wasn't advanced enough with her powers to mimic the intangibility required for flight, nor did he want to risk -- or, frankly, cause -- friendly fire. Perhaps he should have stacked an additional mutation, but whilst Nica's power could absorb gamma there was no way to tell what might happen if it were commingled with another. Ah, well. If he was shot he'd packed Kyle's healing factor for emergencies.
"You got it," Rick agreed. He knew what his role was here- keep Del and himself from getting shot. He wasn't the kid who once was who would try to rush in. Better leave this to the big hitters- and these four were proving to be really big hitters. Still, he moved to position Del so the teenager was more against the wall and if one of them was more likely to shoot it would be him. Thankfully Del was able to stand with minimal support now.
"Are they shooting at me?" Del asked, suddenly much more aware.
"Don't worry, kiddo, the big guns have got it handled," Rick assured him.
Carl adjusted on the fly, a long tone indicating a change towards a specific one of the mutants - in this case, the woman in the fray that seemed to be entirely unphased by both the flash and the smoke. His eyes narrowed, and his arm cycled to a tranq gun as he took aim at her torso while hoping to bring her in as an extra for study. If she wasn't harmed by the two, she might be worth something. Useful.
The tranq dart sailed through Nica, winding up in the wall behind her. She glanced up, trying to track where it had come from, while also tracking friend from foe. "We have someone firing tranqs, team. Looks like they're looking for new specimens to replace Del," she said into her mic. "Stay alert."
While he might not possess the enhanced senses that other members of the team had, Jean-Phillipe had quite a bit of experience dealing with hampered vision and the like. Enough of the other members of the team could blind, deafen, or otherwise impair people around them, so between sparring and some of Garrison's more devious Danger Room scenarios... Plus he had seen several of the operatives key on him before the smoke had fully engulfed the space, so knowing that attackers were headed on him had him prepared enough to engage.
He hunched downward slightly, minimizing the target he made to whoever was shooting into the scrum, and then a trio of forms came dashing in, momentarily distinguishable amid the eddies of smoke around them. They were well trained, doing their best to spread around Bevatron and cage him in. But 'well trained' doesn't necessarily mean a cohesive unit, and against multiple opponents, the trick is to keep in motion, and use one or more to block the others' lines of attack. And so Jean-Phillipe darted forward to grapple the one of the three he could make out most clearly, circling and wrestling him off balance to interpose a body between the X-man and the other two attackers.
There was a time when Scott had been concerned that his powers would burst out of control, that he'd be left to contend without his sight, it was something that had happened in the middle of battle more than once.
So he'd prepared.
His senses weren't a match for many of his teammates, but they didn't need to be, they just needed to hear enough to react. The shuffle of a foot and sound of clothing was enough to have him shift, one arm sweeping out to knock aside a punch. It wasn't just defense, he was looking for their location. An arm twisted, wrist clasping hold of the man's as he tugged at his hand, pulling him off balance as a rising knee sent one of the guards into sweet unconsciousness. Then the X-Man fell still, waiting for the next opponent to close with him, willing to take a blow or two to knock them out quickly..
Rick took advantage of the fight the X-Men were putting up to keep Del moving- keep them to the shadows and out of the way and on the way out while the X-Men did the fighting. That's how it was with superheroes- you let them draw the attention while the civilians got out. And these four were good at drawing attention.
He stayed mostly behind Marius, especially since Del was still stumbling after weeks in the tube. But whatever healing factor had put him in a trance and kept him alive instead of dying was making him recover quickly.
Marius' amber eyes narrowed to slits as they picked up a man-sized heat signature coming towards them. Someone had slipped past the team and was advancing on the trio, gun raised.
Raised, but not firing. This, Marius realised, was probably because he had soaked up so much gamma that whatever data his googles fed him could not conclusively discern the difference between Marius and Del.
"Stop ri-"
Men wielding rifles did not expect to be rushed, but Marius had always considered common sense to be more of a guideline. In an instant the Australian had shoved the rifle aside, ripped off the man's goggles, and thrust a hand directly into his face.
Marius had a personal aversion to the smell of burning flesh, and regardless of circumstances it just wasn't on to give some stranger cancer. Really, when it came down to it "only" searing a hole in someone's retinas was practically doing them a favour.
The man's scream at the point-blank burst of visible light was cut off by a wet choke as Marius drove his foot into his gut and kicked him into the nearest wall. Their assailant slid down to the floor, keening. Satisfied, the X-Man turned back to Rick and Del.
"Let's keep moving, shall we?" he said pleasantly.
There was a burst of noisy fire as Bushwhacker cycled through weapons. Pellets, bullets, and small metal balls sprayed around the group, nicking grooves in concrete and sending the tiny chips towards the would-be heroes as he stalked forward, signalling to the team - what was left of it - to advance in with weapons hot. The beautiful art he'd planned was already ruined, but he could still make a Pollock out of things.
Another cycle, and flame started to shoot from his hand, a slow gout that increased in strength and length the longer it was able to flare. Exhausting work, but excellent for catching the unaware.
The man with the multiple weapons was the leader. Nica made a beeline for him, adjusting her wavelengths as she walked through the flames and prepared to disable what she thought was a device. Only, it wasn't a device, it was the man's hand. Well, that made things more complicated - she wasn't about to fry off somebody's hand, at least not without trying something else first. "Bevatron!" she spoke through her communicator. "We need to swap targets! The leader is a mutant and I think your powers would do better with him! I can deal with your guys!"
Jean-Phillipe disengaged, shoving one of the mercenaries into the other two, resulting in several precious seconds to target swap with Nica, amused at the idea of the men attempting to hit someone they could not touch. He darted toward where his teammate had been and behind him several flashes indicated her arrival and disposal of the men he had been fighting. As he closed with the leader, he directed several bolts of electricity, low-energy test shots. As he watched the play of electricity across the hand, his eyes narrowed and he understood why Nica had called out to him. A more powerful blast was enough to send Bushwacker's attempt at a return shot wide, though apparently there was some kind of EMP hardening at play. "Shielding? A solid thought, but not enough," he declared, drawing deep on his reserves and moving inside the man's field of fire.
By the time he was done, an involuntarily twitching played over his opponent, the hand smoking a bit from the fried circuits inside. "Clear!" he called, just as Nica announced the same from where she stood over a pile of unconscious mercs.
Team Two fights operatives looking to protect the data.
The operatives that rushed in were nondescript, in classic black head-to-toe coverings, but they carried big AIM-tech guns and moved like a unit. They went to shoot at Rogue, who was closest to all the precious data.
"Just once." Kyle planted one hand on Rogue's head for less than a second and leapt over her to come down foot first into the face of an operative. "I want these assholes to wear the fun colors. Black's boring."
"They're afraid we'd laugh, I think." Sooraya relayed over her comms as she shifted, diving low to avoid the first bursts of plasma. Wrapping a tendril around the ankle of the woman she'd ziptied, she gave a yank, pulling her under the questionable shelter of the table, but it was the best she could do at the moment. Other tendrils lashed out a second later, pulling the first two operatives of their feet. "Watch it, Mayhem!"
"LAUGH ANYWAY." Mayhem jumped, webs shooting to the ceiling above the operatives and launching herself forward, tendrils snapping out to wrap around the gun in question and crumpling it with a laugh of her own. "HELLO, YOU WANT TO PLAY?" A wide mouth full of sharp teeth split across her face, and she beckons the still standing operatives with two blue-tipped claws.
Rogue was having a blast, punching people and not taking names. Did it matter to her? Not really. What was important as these fuckers went down for what they were doing. In a weird way, she was happy to let Logan take over her mind a bit, let the bloodlust run. She could sniff the fear, the terror, and let it fill her up.
She could feel her fists going numb but she wasn't going to stop until she was told to.
Dust dropped several of the guns she had liberated on a heap to the side, taking in the fight with a quick glance to see where she most needed. Her 'eyes' almost narrowed when she caught sight of Rogue's almost wild swings and the look in her eyes was almost distant. Quickly activating her comms, she quickly signaled: "Rogue, are you okay?"
The sound of her friend jolted her and she stopped suddenly. No one was dead, but there were several fallen bodies, and she could feel herself panting a bit. She took a deep breath. "Uh. Let's define okay later, sugar...'cuz I need a moment.... and I don't know if I've left much for the rest of us."
"Oh no, less being shot at." Kyle took a moment to pause, and then delivered a stomp to the ribs of the operative he'd taken to the ground. "Remind me to buy you flowers for taking out like, a bazillion of these assholes. Or cookies or beer or whatever. How Wolverine-y are you feeling in terms of thank you gifts?" He was deceptively casual, despite sporting blooded forearm from a plasma bolt he'd barely dodged. "Cause this looks like that sort of situation."
THWP
Web shot at the ceiling, Mayhem swinging in a wide arc over the heads of her teammates with a laugh, hands moving in a blur of poses.
THWP THWP TH-THWP THWP THWP
A set of operatives take the first two webs to the gut and end up spun together and dangling from the ceiling like an oversized pinata from the stutter-blast of webbing, the final two bursts snatching their guns and webbing them to the ceiling. April lets go of the web mid-air, arcing her body into a piked double Arabian that lands her next to Kyle. "Cool, are there more? The plasma bolts were an okay workout, but the aiming was pretty predictable."
