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Seek and Destroy; [Brotherhood, X-men, FOH]
Topic Started: Oct 2 2007, 04:11 AM (2,628 Views)
Mystique
Unregistered

Infiltration team, code name: Spectre. What a load of bullshit. Especially since there was no team, there was only Mystique. Why on earth Magneto had decided to skip town and take his freakish autobot with him, she would never fathom. Hadn’t he been the one going on and on about mutant supremacy and how they were in this together or some crap? So where was he now on the day they had chosen to launch their attack? Missing in action, with no hint of where he had gone or when he would return. How’s that for guidance?

But where one leader faltered, another would step up, and Mystique had seamlessly taken over the position. They were going forward with the mission, minus the silly little codenames, of course.

Lunch hour came and went at the Friends of Humanity headquarters in Stafford and Mystique was right in the middle of it under the disguise of Mr. Knappy. Really, the man had the most boring job on the face of the planet as far as she was concerned; she spent the first half of the day behind his desk typing away on his computer to make it look like she was doing work, while in all actuality she was watching every single thing that went on. You’d think the Director of Public Relations would have something better to do than answer emails, but apparently not…unless you count choosing a layout for an anti-mutant propaganda pamphlet that was set to be distributed throughout the city next week.

And then two o’clock came around and she calmly shut off the computer and opened the desk drawer, removing a pistol with a silencer from its depths and laying it on the desk. The office walls were too thin to use it, though; even with the silencer someone could possibly hear it, and she wasn’t going to risk it. The gun was for an emergency, and she laid a few manila folders over it before going to the door and peering out into the hallway.

“Ah, Michelle, just the pretty lady I was looking for!” she said, Todd Knappy’s deep baritone voice rumbling from her altered vocal cords as she spotted one of the interns heading down the hall, a briefcase tucked under her arm. “Can you come in here for a minute, I want your opinion on the new pamphlets.”

Michelle was happy and eager to prove herself to her boss, and if it had been possible in those 4 inch pumps she was wearing, she probably would’ve skipped into the office. As it was, she hurried inside, her steps a bit wobbly as her ankles struggled to support her weight at such an awkward angle. It’d take her a bit more time to really work those shoes, but sadly, Michelle’s time was up.

The intern had immediately gone to look at the pamphlets sitting on the desk and picked one up just as Mystique stepped up behind her, taking a hold of the woman’s head by her jaw and forehead, blue hands contrasting starkly against her pale skin as she cleanly snapped her neck. The paper fluttered to the floor as Michelle dropped like a sack of potatoes and Mystique dragged her body behind the desk, out of sight incase someone peeked inside looking for Todd.

Minutes later she was walking down the hall towards the main security room, Michelle’s designer shoes on her feet, the gun tucked inside her jacket, and a briefcase dangling from her fingers. It seemed the pretty blond intern was apparently quite popular among her co-workers and it took her a bit longer than anticipated to make it down to the security room, but no matter. The other members of the Brotherhood had their orders, and they were to sit tight until she gave the signal.

The FOH headquarters was a veritable fortress, but every great palace has its weak spots. Luckily enough for her, they all happened to be in the same spot, and to make it even easier, little intern Michelle happened to be dating one of the security guards. Aww, how sweet. Too bad they’ll never get to see that beach wedding they’ve been planning.

The fortified door to the security room was located down a secluded hallway and she knocked twice, smiling at camera that peered at her just to the right of the door frame. A second later a buzz sounded and the deadbolt clicked open and she stepped into the circular room, doing a quick headcount. Three guards sat around the console that ran along the back curved wall of the room, and a fourth had just gotten up from his chair to greet her. No doubt, this must be the boyfriend.

The man came towards her with an eager, almost sickeningly devoted smile on his face, but she stopped him with a quick bullet to the head. The three other security guards immediately went for their guns but they had never been trained to deal with a professional like Mystique, but they were down before their weapons even cleared their holsters.

She checked to make sure the locks on the door were secured before going into action. Opening the briefcase she put a small transmitter in her ear and immediately set to work on the computers, using the dead guards’ security clearances to worm her way into the very heart of the security system.

“Noxious,” she said smoothly as her fingers flew over the keyboard, disabling the alarms that were wired throughout the building, knowing that the Irishman was listening keenly on his end of the transmission for her orders. “I’m in. Hold your position. Alarms going down…now.” With one last keystroke the monitor directly in front of her went down to be replaced by a flashing red screen. She ignored it and moved to the next monitor, once again using the pilfered security codes to gain clearance

“Unlocking doors...four minutes to infiltration.” Again the monitor went dark and was replaced by a flashing red screen. Time was limited now that the doors were open; someone was bound to notice, and without another word she set the briefcase down on the desk and left the room, locking it behind her. Inside that briefcase was enough C4 to take out a small school, but the walls of the security room were fortified like the hull of a tank, and Mystique wanted to make sure the job got done. Just as she came to the end of the hallway another security guard passed her with a smile.

Crap. “Change of plans. 15 seconds, Noxious.” She sprinted back towards Mr. Knappy’s office, ignoring the odd looks she was given as she ran full-out in 3 inch heels. She wasn’t even out of breath when she reached the door and slipped inside, shedding Michelle’s blond appearance for her own blue skin, her gun still hanging in a shoulder holster under her left arm. Minus the four she had already used, she had 9 bullets left in the gun and another clip in her pocket, which for most people would’ve been plenty, but not for Mystique. She hadn’t risked smuggling in more than the one gun, but make no mistake, there were more on the way.

And now there was no turning back. The security guards she’d taken out earlier were little fish in a tank full of sharks. The FOH employed heavy hitters as well, and they would jump into action the moment that bomb went off. But they were prepared, and she had no doubt that they would be victorious.

“Three…two…one…show time.” She pressed a button on her watch, and the detonation was instant. The building shook violently as a great, rumbling explosion rocketed outwards from the central security room, shattering walls and tearing down support beams. The lights flickered and screams erupted from everywhere, and through it all Mystique remained quietly inside the office, leaning against the door, counting the seconds until the rumbling and shaking stopped.

“Go, everyone, go. Remember, do as much damage as possible, but do not get caught. If you find Bennett, incapacitate him but do not kill. He is our example. When I give the word, get out of the building,” she said loudly into the transmitter and then turned to face the door, drawing her gun as she pulled it open and moved into the lobby, taking aim without a second’s hesitation.

From among the screaming, the quiet pops of muffled gunfire could be heard before the section of the building she was in began to quiet.

Let’s see how well the Friends of Humanity can spread bigoted anti-mutant dogma without a public relations department.
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Noxious
Unregistered

Peas in a pod.

Her ruthless ambition, her willingness to do whatever it took to meet goals -- these were qualities the both of them shared, to an outright frightening degree.

It was no surprise the blue-skinned mutant picked the Irishman to be her second-in-command -- and he was more than ready to shine in the role.

Of course, as gifted as he was in the role of espionage, this was Mystique's forte -- and she'd execute everything perfectly, as always.

He wouldn't expect anything less.

As a result, the Irishman was willing to hang back and play a support role -- a sign he respected her abilities.

Just where was he?

Up on a nearby rooftop -- not too close, though, as he was posted there on sniper duty in case any shit hit the proverbial fan. And watch he did, through the scope of that massive, .50 BMG anti-material AW50 sniper rifle.

“Noxious,” she said smoothly as her fingers flew over the keyboard, disabling the alarms that were wired throughout the building, knowing that the Irishman was listening keenly on his end of the transmission for her orders. “I’m in. Hold your position. Alarms going down…now.”

Her voice crackled slightly over the shortwave radio of his transmitter, but her message was more than clear. "Ten-four," he responded back through his headset, ever watchful and listening for just what was going on.

When the time was right, he'd get in there ... and unleash hell.

“Change of plans. 15 seconds, Noxious.”

A quirk of the brow. Well, that was new -- but not to be unexpected. He waited, biding his time, watchful through that scope of any approaching threats that may cancel out their hard-thought plans.

And the floodgates opened. Literally.

The distinct muffled boom of an explosion. A smirk, and a slight wisp of smoke leaving the tip of his cigarette.

Oh, how he loved that sound.

“Go, everyone, go. Remember, do as much damage as possible, but do not get caught. If you find Bennett, incapacitate him but do not kill. He is our example. When I give the word, get out of the building."

That was the cue. And, calmly but quickly, the Irish mutant folded up the barrel of his scoped rifle, lashing the large gun to his back before straightening his jacket and grabbing a black duffel bag -- and, in a quick instant, dissipated into a gaseous fog.

Travel in style.

Of course, he couldn't get into the Friends of Humanity headquarters immediately -- that would be impossible. No doubt Mystique dispatched most of the assailants in the lobby before his wispy self entered into the complex -- and coolly began to rematerialize right behind her, still clutching that bag, puffing on his cigarette with that smirk on his face.

"Ye know, I hear FedEx has speedy ground delivery," he mused lowly in that deep, raspy voice of his before calmly sliding the bag of firearms over to her -- and, in fact, he unfastened the lash around his bag, tossing the sniper rifle on top of the bag for her to use.

"Take good care o' me baby," he said to her with a sweet little smirk, glancing right to the rifle -- just before the sounds of heavy, booted footsteps echoed through the main lobby.

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

Security -- and not just any ol' rent-a-pig. These guys looked SWAT-worthy, with their automatic guns and body armor -- but none of it was a challenge to Nox.

The Black Shamrock earned his name through assaults like these.

As Noxious advanced towards them brazenly, with a slow pace to his step and a puff to his smoke, they fired shots -- just before an outer shell of weapons-grade adamantium coated his outer body in plates, deflecting every shot fired.

A raised brow, as he dusted off slug fragments from his adamantium-plated shoulders, just as the guards looked on in both fear and awe -- before Nox brought out the sidearm holstered at his hip and dispatched all three of them.

A smirk back at Mystique, over his shoulder. "Goin' up, lass ... keep things cool down here," he smoothly said to her, before dissipating into an invisible gas -- and making his way through the vents and up to the second floor of the building.

Security was working overtime upstairs -- guards were trying to evacuate suits and other office workers, to keep them away from the assault.

Too bad it didn't matter any to Noxious.

"Clear!" One heavily-armed guard called out to the other, beckoning his teammate to follow as a group of office staff followed between them. "This way, everybody!"

Only, it was clear when he looked -- and appearing right in front of them, as if materializing like a ghost, was Nox, standing there with a slick smirk and holding his folded knife in one hand and sidearm in the other -- and calmly lighting himself a new smoke.

At first, the guards looked stunned -- but that wore off as Nox's cold eyes shot up to one of them, unloading an FMJ slug into his head through the eye socket.

The second took barely a moment to reply with automatic gunfire, the crowd of workers behind him screaming and taking cover -- but Nox slipped back into a gaseous form, leaving him to shoot into blank space.

The guard looked stunned. He paused ... only as Nox appeared behind him, and popped a cap right into the back of his skull, dropping his corpse like a co-dependant girlfriend.

A slight flex of the neck, as he re-cocked his slide pistol -- and looked back at the screaming and fleeing crowd with a sick grin of twisted glee.

Target practice.

Shots fired -- and one by one, they fell, as he drifted from one to the other in an almost ethereal, fearsome manner.

Soon, all that was left was one woman in a business suit, who ran into a small office, realizing she was trapped -- and Nox appeared there in the doorway, giving that sociopathic smile of his.

With fear in her eyes, she backed away, pushing back the office table and screaming at the top of her lungs -- but as Nox stepped forward, he took her hand, and raised his other to his lips, a finger against them in a soft 'shhh' for her to be quiet.

She was paralyzed. Utterly. And she began to weep ... sob for mercy. Without a hitch, the Irish mutant turned her around, right up against behind her, revelling in her sobs.

"Please ..." she cried, gulping back her words with tears. "I ... I have a husband ... and t-three kids..."

Once again, Nox gave her a reassuring 'shhh', pulling close to her form, a hand against her side -- and she gave an almost disgusted expression.

But it was all for naught -- because, just as quickly, like the hand of God, the Black Shamrock slung out his adamantium folding knife, jamming the sharp blade straight into her neck, right to her jugular -- but he didn't pull out.

No ... he watched her wide-eyed, dying expression as he looked down to her eyes in a cold smile, like the Angel of Death himself.

The blade was keeping her alive for the moment, as he spoke.

"Here's the kicker," he almost purred lowly to her ear. "So ... do ... we."

Out slid the blade, bleeding her out -- and sending her lifeless body to the floor.

With a raised brow of almost inconvenience, Nox began to wipe the blood from his knife -- before two guards approached with guns drawn behind him, standing at the doorway of the small office.

"Hands where I can see 'em, buddy!" One of them commanded -- and Nox smirked deviously, all too happy to oblige, as he lifted them, pistol and knife in his left and right respectively.

"Do ye see them?" He coolly said back to the pair of guards with an evil smile -- as he once again disappeared into invisible, odorless gas.

The pair looked around in confusion, walking into the office a little bit to find him -- but they wouldn't.

In fact, the doors would shut behind them as they entered, and locked, as they looked around frantically.

"Squad Four, we request additional units, I repeat, additional uni-" One of them called into his radio -- but his request was cut short by a slow, ragged choke, followed by a cough -- and a heavy heave.

The coughing turned to hacking, and into spatters of blood -- and their eyes became jaundiced, mouths slung open as if gasping for air, and skin turning an eerie pale yellow. They clawed along the ground, desperate -- before falling still.

And the gas lifted.

Mustard gas is a bitch.

Slowly, Nox materialized at the door, whistling a casual tune before opening the door -- and looking over his shoulder at the array of bodies strewn about.

"Quite a party," he murmured to himself, before setting a casual stride down the hall -- to sow more chaos.

It's what he did best.
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Longshot
Member Avatar
Probability, Psychometry, Cloned Origin, Empathic Charisma
"Artie," came the irritating voice of one of the copy girls. "We're all going out after work for drinkies! You wanna come?"

Arthur grit his teeth, just an imperceptible clenching of his jaws. He'd been working in the Promotions Print Shop of the Friends of Humanity Headquarters for six weeks now, his cover here as one of the genetically inferior flat scans almost completely undiscovered, though he suspected that Bennett knew more than he was saying. Arthur worked with the office staff, a general go'fer, his pretty looks and friendly manner making it so that he honestly worked very little, but had his fingers in everything that passed through here. The fact that the only sign of his mutation, his oddly shaped hands have been hidden beneath gloves that he wore to 'hide burn scars' made him all the more attractive to the girls here. He was damaged, and needed comforting.

Stupid little monkeys.

He turned to see some of the hopeful copy girls huddled at the spacer of his cubicle. Forcing a smile on his face, he folded his arms and said, "And what is the ocassion, lovely ladies?"

"Kari's birthday." coo the girls, "She's hoping to get lucky!"

"Oh, stop!" Kari giggled, and Arthur tensed. Obviously he was what this horrible screeching woman wanted for a gift and he cursed the day he was born pretty.

But, as luck would have it, at that moment, the building was rocked with Mystique's explosion. His aura of good fortune washed over the girls and not one was hurt as the building began to fall.

"Oh god!" the girls panic, clinging to each other in terror, and Longshot got to his feet, quickly.

"Hurry!" he shouted, "Follow me! We have to get out of here!"

Eagerly, the girls fall into line behind him, and they move through the smoke and the shattered debris that had begun to fall. More people found them as Longshot led them to what they prayed was safety, men and other women. All were frightened, all were angry. He heard many derogatory remarks about how the filthy muties were behind this, surely. Death to them all.

"Quickly, through here!" Arthur shouted, waving them through a door.

The group piled in and found themselves in the storeroom, trapped without a way out. "Artie!" they cried, "There's no exit!"

Longshot stood in front of the only door, and his eye blazed with golden glory. "Oh, but there is," the mutant smirked, "The final exit."

He flung out his hand and the first barrage of razors sliced eyes and cheeks, and throats as the human cattle stampedes. He flipped over their heads, using the overhead pipes as parallel bars. One flat scan thought himself brave and swung on Longshot, but as luck would have it, the mutant dodged and the human instead broke his hand on one of the concrete pillar that supported the room. Longshot grabbed the injured fingers and ground the splintered bones together, driving him to his knees. "You son of a bitch." the man moaned, "Disgusting freak!"

Longshot grabbed his face in his hands and squeezed hard enough to make the man's tongue loll out of his mouth. "Such ugly words." he said, and with a slash of his razors he sliced his tongue clean off. Slitting the 'heroes' throat, he thrust the bleeding, dying man away and looked at the only one who was left, Kari the birthday girl, cowering in the corner. "Still want me to be your present, Primate?"

She spat at him, trying feebly to slap him, to escape, "You are a monster!" she cried.

Longshot swung his foot, kicking her hard in the face, "No, darling, I am evolved, and you, well, you're just a dead end on the evolutionary ladder. But don't be so quick to judge, Kari. You're going to get lucky tonight just like you wanted."

He grabbed her by the throat and began to squeeze. A wicked smile curved his lips and he said, prettily, "Or am I going to get lucky? I always confuse that."
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Jara
Unregistered

All right. Maybe the mission code names were lame. And maybe Jara was better suited for sniping at a distance, considering that she couldn't taste the difference between friend or foe when it came down to that point. But this... this was a downright insult.

Clunky plastic wheels creaked lazily down the carpeted corridor, pushing an innocuous gray cart before her. Loaded with scrubbing brushes, sprays, cleaners.. not exactly the tools of the trade one would expect an assassin to carry. Nor was the pressed and trim green and white uniform, a dainty button-up blouse and slacks completing the vision of her newest assumed identity.

Jara Montenegro, domestic sanitation engineer extraordinair. Good God, if anyone saw her, the changeling was positive she'd die, or murder any witnesses. This inspired anything but fear, though she had to admit, no one spared the latina cleaning lady a second glance, unless it was some asshole trying to make a pass at her. She tried her absolute best to play the role of the submissive foreign minimum wage worker, putting up a show of tidying things, spot cleaning a window here and there.

Ooh, a license to clean. Be afraid, be very afraid. There was a very sick sense of irony at work here. But it gave Jara a chance to look around, confirm the studied layout of her floor that she'd memorized from her mission files and pinpoint exactly where her objectives were.

"Excuse me, miss!"

Jara pulled her cart to a stop, taking a deep, stabilizing breath. Iguana woman hadn't given the o.k. yet, so vicious mauling would have to wait. But motherfucker, if he wanted something cleaned... "Yes, sir?" Jara asked, feigning professional politeness and a broken accent that even she had to cringe at. Speedy Gonzalez was a God damned Oxford graduate. "Is there somet'ing djoo need?"

"Yes, there is. One of the toilets in the men's bathroom is clogged."

The Cuban changeling simply looked at the pencil-pusher with an expression that clearly said how much she cared. Really, she was trying her best not to eat his face. It was ugly, anyway. Such a bulbous nose, and saggy basset hound eyes.. oh god, it gave her indigestion just thinking it. "Y?" she asked.

"Y," he began, mimicking her accent. Oh, fuck you too, buddy. "Someone needs to clean that. The water's flowing beyond the stalls...."

Somehow, Jara managed to tune out his little bitchfest, taking a step back and seemingly focusing that keen jade gaze of hers on the office worker. Instead, she was observing a long window behind in, one that she'd spent a long time wiping down. There were rows upon rows of computer terminals inside, along with televisions glowing mutely with prefixed news channels and broadcasts, along with a rather impressive assemblage of radio equipment. That was where this FoH sent out and received communications from other cells, keeping an ear on the airwaves and throwing in their own sound bites when convenient.

".. And frankly, the quality of cleanliness leaves a lot to be desired." Oh, thank God. He was finished.

"Umm, okay sir. I will clean," Jara nodded, trying her best to act eager, as though the five bucks an hour they had been ripping off the real Maria with meant the world to her. The suit seemed satisfied enough, walking back down the hallway towards his cookie-cutter office. And just in time.

Parading as a housekeeper had its perks. Mainly because she got to carry around a nifty set of keys for every single door around. And look! They jingle! She approached the communications office, cat-like green eyes glancing down at the lock for only a brief moment. Lock type, manufacturer, the number of tumblers inside... they all came to Jara as easy as her name, and in no time, she pulled out what she assumed to be the key and slid it into the lock. It opened, no surprise to the confident little shapeshifter, and she stepped inside, closing the door behind.

This was her position. Take out the communications networks, let no one outside hear of the chaos within until the blood went dry and the bodies cold and stiff. There were a few technicians inside, but they dismissed the petite housekeeper, who busied herself with sweeping the floor with a dolly broom. Her attention never wavered from the small bud nestled in her ear, waiting for Mystique's signal.

It came sooner than expected, an unignorable tremor coursing through the floor and up the walls, computer equipment shaking. The humans looked about bewilderedly, suddenly their ambient cast into darkness, save for the blue glow of their monitors. Seemed like the blast took out this portion of the power grid, though the PCs obviously ran on their own independent source. Their faces looked pale and sickly, whereas Jara's welcomed the shadows, all too used to blending in with them.

"What the hell was that?" once asked, but it seemed he was addressing his computer, typing furiously on his keyboard.

“Go, everyone, go. Remember, do as much damage as possible, but do not get caught. If you find Bennett, incapacitate him but do not kill. He is our example. When I give the word, get out of the building."

And that was all she needed. Concerned with their intelligence gathering, or rather, compensation, they didn't notice Jara dig beneath her shirt, a bulky mass welling out of no where from her diminutive shape. It was only until the tell-tale cock of a combat shotgun echoed around the room that they looked up. And got a face full of buckshot. They screamed and rushed out of their seats in a panic, but Balam was on them already, tearing into their bodies mercilessly with explosive pellets of lead. Sparks shout out of mangled computers and circuitry. Yes, a bit crude, but if you didn't want computer communications, the best way to do that was to beat the shit out of the computer itself. Screams continued, but with a final roar of gunshot, it became still. Glancing out of the hallway, she detected no movement beyond the darkened glass. The office was built like a sound production studio. Soundproof. Ahh, such conveniences.

Jara prowled over mutilated bodies and bullet-ridden corpses, directly to the circuitry panel were their network converged. Dismantling that sort of electrical engineering took finesse... which Jara so kindly ignored, by blowing the shit out of it with another round. The same went for the radio equipment. She pressed a finger against her ear, activating her transmitter.

"Fourth floor communications down," she stated, slipping out of her staff uniform with a careless rip of the fabric to reveal more practical combat wear beneath. Kevlar, baby. And nothing pink.

Alright. So she'd been a good girl, did her chores, and told the blue iguana just what a good job she did.

Now for the fun part.

As she stepped outside of the office, she could hear worried voices, the crackle of hand-held radios, and a few pen lights swiveling uselessly about.

"What happened? There was an explosion!"

"You felt that too?"

Blah blah blah. Shut the fuck up and bleed already. With her last cartridge ready in the chamber, Jara let loose a final blast, the screams of the terrified and wounded putting an end to their idiotic questions. They heard the gunshot, knew where it came from, and thus tried running the opposite way. She could hear them trample one another, see the fallen writhe listlessly on the floor in the darkness. The smell of blood was growing, and Jara more than invited its psychologically warping effects. She was quick, silent, rushing past the injured and weaving through staggering bodies towards the center of their group. The skin on her left forearm itched and parted, yielding a serrated blade, which Jara didn't hesitate to pull out and embed in the base of a nearby man's skull. She yanked the blade out with merciless efficacy, and he crumpled to the floor.

Realizing that the predator was in their midst, a woman screamed nearby. Moron. Jara lashed out with a lethally clawed hand, sickled nails driving deep beneath her jawbone as Jara's hand slapped onto the woman's face, and with a forceful tug dragged the woman back towards the changeling.

Her screams incensed the growing fear around them, Jara almost able to taste the hysteria and sweat growing in the air. Her claws tore deep bloodied crevices into the woman's face, but that was nothing compared to the damage Jara wreaked as her fangs lodged themselves into the fine muscles of her cheek, ripping out a chunk of live meat in animalistic fashion, then again upon the woman's throat, crushing her windpipe and silencing her forever.

But then she promptly spat the mouthful of human sinew back out.

"Eww. Collagen," Jara grimaced, wiping off her tongue with the back of her hand. But she didn't forget the stampeding buffet before her. She lunged forward, hitting the ground on newly turned paws and lashing out with claw and fang at the legs of the fleeing humans. With eat bite of muscle she swallowed, she could feel her own grow more dense, powerful. And she put this added weight to use, the feline pounding down doors and sweeping offices clean of all living life, spurred onwards by the shrieks and screams of her food.

No one saw her coming. Her smooth velvety pelt blended seamlessly with the floor's darkness, a feline shape occasionally flitting tauntingly beneath the all but safe halo of poor illumination cast by the emergency lights. Those that managed to avoid the cannibal followed the herd down the hallway, flocking towards the exits.

Except they were all locked. They pressed in upon themselves, crushing those closest to the door in their panic to escape.

"Oh, this is no fun!" Jara called, the feline rising from her quadruped stance. Her stature grew, far past her normal 'human' height, a hulking mass of muscle and fur, a murderer crafted by Nature itself. She stood beneath an emergency light, rather enjoying the dramatic effect her changing into a hybrid shape elicited from the mob. Sure. Let them look upon perfection. Might as well make death memorable.

And the were-cat lunged forward, screams and pleas drowned out by psychotic hunger, defiant bodies soon becoming less and less distinguishable and more in one with the pulpy mass accumulating on the floor, dragging bodies by the ropey length of their intestines across the floor with almost childish gusto, strangling off their last breaths with their own innards.

"Yep. You definitely need someone to clean this up," she grinned, the smile contorting her feline maw.

She paused, ears swiveling atop her head as she suddenly focused on noises below. Gunshots. Hmm, she hadn't run into any of that yet.

"Probably need my help..." she mused. It was times like these she thought of revamping her fighting attire, like getting a B inscribed on her chest. B for Balam. Or more like B for Super Bitch.

"Up, up and away." The feline laughed to herself, shoving through the pile of corpses that had accumulated at the exit and giving the doors a forceful shove, stepping into the stairwell.
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Wanda
Reality Warping
OOC- JP among Wanda, Pietro, and Alex

It was a sunny day with blue sky overhead. Three people, two men and woman, stood together on a rooftop near the Friends of Humanity headquarters building. For the most part, the little trio was silent, still waiting for a signal. The woman looked at the building, her red lips pursed; such a serious expression was unusual on her face.

"Pietro," she paused for a moment before continuing, "They are bad people." It sounded suspiciously like a question and a statement at the same time.

"They are our father's people." Pietro said, quietly, "As are we."

"The Friends of Humanity aren't good humans, Wanda," Alex said, unhappily. "These are everything Magneto warns us about. Bigots and persecutors. We're doing right here." His voice was tight and not at all certain.

She listened and found it interesting that her brother thought she was referring to the other Brotherhood members, while Alex thought she meant the humans; it was telling where each man's mind was at that moment. She turned her gaze away from the building and back to them. "This town," she looked around at the Norman Rockwell small town; people smiled and waved to each other in the street, in was still a normal day for them. "I look around and I see blood everyway... It needs ... to be cleansed." Her words were strong but her eyes looked from her brother to the man they were beginning to see as a friend, their only friend, silently asking: are we sure it must be like this?

Pietro and Alex exchanged glances. "We have a duty," Alex finally said, "To your father, to mutantkind... to ourselves. You've seen what they are capable of. Filthy flatscans." He can't stop the words that came out of his mouth. He looked away and said, "I mean, they'll kill us if they get the chance to."

"And, the innocents of Stafford? What of them?" Pietro asked.

"Do you really think there are any?" Alex said, coldly, squinting his eyes as if he can see the blood that Wanda did, "Your sister knows that we just don't have any choice. We're supposed to be patriots, here, rebels, revolutionaries. They always call people like us terrorists until we win the war."

"The war... then let the war that looms over us like storm clouds be quick ... over as soon as possible." She looked at her brother, his silver hair fluttering in the breeze, "Mercury..." She looked at blond man who brought fire with his hands, "Vulcan..." And then down at herself, magic crackling at her fingertips, "Circe... We are vengeful gods, are we not?"

Havok lifted his chin and said, "Vengeful maybe, but not cruel. We're better than them. We don't have to make this hard."

"They're going to die, Havok, and we are going to be the instrument of their deaths." Pietro said, with a shake of his head. "How can that not be hard?"

Alex looked at this man, the only person in the world he might call friend, and he said, "We make it quick, and we let them know that that is as far more mercy than people like that are worth."

Wanda nodded, though if it was because of his words or something in her own head, it would impossible to tell. "Today... we will do what must be done and see what changes it brings." Behind them, the FOH building rocked and on another rooftop, she saw Nox gleefully pick up a bag and disappear. She looked at Alex, "This is only the first of many such days to come."

In the wake of the explosion, Havok looked at the twins and said, "I'll take down the buildings but I won't hurt anyone, all right? I..." He followed Wanda's gaze to Nox and said, "Whatever we are, whatever we are about to become, we're in control of it. I'm sort of tired of everyone telling me who I am."

"So you would let the Brotherhood make you a monster?" Pietro murmured.

Havok smirked grimly and lifted a fist that glowed with white light, "No, my powers do that. I'm going to let the Brotherhood make me a man." He turned to Wanda, "Stay safe, stay... yourself." Then, he hurried down the fire escape of the building, taking his position in the street.

"He's an idiot." Pietro muttered.

Gun shots in the distance went unheeded by Wanda, "I believe this day will open many eyes, my love. The others will be angry with me but I don't care, our sister loves him, I will try to open his eyes. He thinks he knows what I see... what is to come," she shook her head making her auburn curls bounce, "but I will show him." She looked up at her brother, maybe they would learn from this day too. She stretched up on her toes and kissed his lips briefly, "Come back safe, my darling.”

Pietro returned the kiss and said, "I will always come back for you, my love." He looked over at the FOH Headquarters and said, "There will be blood in the streets today, but I will shed none. I will return to you with my hands far cleaner than my heart."
And, then, he was gone in a silver streak of wind.

She walked to the edge of the roof and took hold of her broomstick. It levitated under her as her took a seat and rose into the air. Beneath her, people gasped and cried out, not at her, but at the smoking building, and rushed toward it. She barely heard their calls for the fire department and shouts that there must’ve been a gas leak. All innocent speculation stopped as they finally began to notice the gypsy in red riding a flying broom. It was not very long ago that she and brother went for a day in Central Park; Pietro had disdainfully told her that the newspaper had labeled her the Scarlet Witch. Those two words sounded through the crowds as she hovered over the roof.

“Blood is that everyone wants… blood is what they shall have,” she said to no one. She thought about what her eyes saw and gathered her strength, then gestured down at the building.

Within the building, a scarlet glow appeared on every level and in every room. In fact, the glow manifested wherever there was air. Instantly, the molecular make-up of the air changed… to something - liquid, red, and completely unbreathable. Everyone within the building was suddenly swimming in blood. The already damaged structure couldn’t take the strain and buckled. A river of blood spewed out the broken windows on all levels, the force of the torrent ripping apart doors, taking people and corpses and dumping them outside.

As people floundered in the blood-soaked lawn of the FOH building, the Scarlet Witch soared into the sky. For a moment, she floated high in the sky and could almost believe that it was still that beautiful sunny day. Wanda sighed, keeping one thought in her head, she let go of her restraint and dove into madness… into her power. The town loved the blood of mutants… the Brotherhood loved the blood of humans… she would give them both more than enough.

Like a crop-duster trailed by white powder, Wanda’s heels were trailed by angry black and red clouds that expanded and rolled over the town, blocking out the sun. Red lightning flicked across the storm clouds once before the torrential downpour began. Thick blood fell from the sky, the droplets so close together it resembled a vertical river rather than rain. She looked down, the flashflood of blood roared down the streets. In minutes, it was sweeping away cars and collapsing electricity poles and lines.

Wanda, like entire town, was covered in blood. The scarlet figure sailed back up into the black and reds clouds; her power… her madness feeding the Blood Storm.
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Fate
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Meetings. How incredibly boring. Hardly suited for the telepath. to sit and listen for hours and hours on end while someone else took notes, obliging to nod your head or laugh at some stupid joke. How she so loathed Meetings. Yet here she was. Fate was sitting in one of the higher up meetings. Department heads, some Chairmen, only the great Alexander and a few of the major players seemed to be missing. Oh, and Mr. Knappy. Everyone wondered where he had gone. -oh, he's dead. Didn't you know?- she thought to herself happily.

"take note's Eliza". It took her a moment to remember that was the name she was going by. Her "Boss" a severe looking woman, was whispering to her to do her job. Well, she certainly was a spritely seventy year old. Bitch. Fate was posing as an assistant to one of the leading ladies in the program. It wasn't hard to get the position really; her tekepathy allowed her to manipulate just about everyone she came across.

So here she was, in hell.

While everyone discussed the next bout of propaganda that was going to be spewed at the American public, Fate merely sat there, supremely bored, while everyone around her bickered and fought their points. Anything to please the great Alexander Bennet. He seemed to be the prospect of admiration among everyone at the meeting today. She personally knew her "boss" would do anything to please him. Well then. Have you tried fucking him?

“Go, everyone, go. Remember, do as much damage as possible, but do not get caught. If you find Bennett, incapacitate him but do not kill. He is our example. When I give the word, get out of the building,”

Fate smiled. Finally, there was a way out of this hell!

Immediately she began to fill the room with her telepathic blasts. One by one, people started screaming, and the best part was, they had no idea it was her who was doing it. Yes, unlike the other Brotherhod members, whose powers were so..obvious, Fate's powers were very refined, nearly impossible to detect, but just as deadly. She watched happily as blood began to gush from everyone's eyes, and ears, their screaming still resounding in the room. A minute later, they were all dead.

She stood and activated her transmitter. "Major players taken out, all heads of departments and most chairmen. No sign of target-objective Bennet." Well she had completed her required duties, and now her job on this floor was done. time to go do some damage.

Until the blood came. Almost immediately, blood came flowing like a river. The room was filled with blood, and it was heading at her like a freight train. Oh hell no. She was wearing Yves-Saint Laurent! she slammed the door and watched the blood crash through the window outside and begin to empty. she sat there for about ten minutes until all the blood was gone. Then she pened the door cautiously and steped outside.

"Great. I got blood all over my Chanel Shoes. Someone is going to fucking die." she said, and looked up into the sky at the Scarlet witch, now flying around like an idiot on her broom. Insane Bitch. Oh well. She'd get hers soon enough. She had a mission to accomplish. and Damned if she was going to sit back and be angry over ruined shoes.Even if they were Chanel. Coco would be soooo pissed. She heard gunshots downstairs, and figured whoever was down there needed help.

So off she went, heading for the rest of her team, yet still keeping an eye out for Jara. The girl was pretty cool, but with blood around. Fate was soooo not getting mauled. It would damage her YSL blouse. Vain much? incredibly, Materialistic? oh hell yes. Deadly? you bet your sweet ass.
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Havok
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Superheated Plasma Blasts
He was furious. Alexander Summers knew this was wrong, knew that his actions today were the result of anger and hatred, and disgust with not only the state of the world, but himself. After leaving the twins, with his head still ringing with what Maximoff had been trying to tell him, what he had heard thoughwould never admit the stubborn bastard he could be, he had taken his place, waiting for the sign that he was to act.

Mystique's order came through loud and clear and Havok took a deep breath. He did not wear civilian clothes over his suit this time, wanting the assholes who ran this disgusting organization to know who he was, to know that he was not one of them, not anymore. His suit was as black as ink, almost as if it drew the light from the sky, and the white monitor on his chest pulsed with his energy, completely charged. Electric white and blue crackled around him, the three banded headpiece helping him to focus on what he was doing here, what powers he was going to channel through a body changed by evolution and genetics.

The wave of blood did not reach him, drained to a trickle that lapped sickeningly around his black boots by the time it got to where he stood. The blood rain though, it crackled when it streaked into his heat, clotting and cooking on the fever hot of his face. He was disgusted and appalled, but he did not move from where he was put. His fists balled with white glow and as the first of the panicked humans emerged from the beseiged building they discovered him, a demon at the end of the world.

One of them brought up a gun, and Havok threw out his powers, slamming them into the man, knocking him backwards, his chest smoking, his hand blistered. The heat of his attack set off the bullets in the man's gun, and the stupid human actually took down two of his own.

Some of the bolder man tried to charge him, but he threw his powers forward, driving them backwards. They begged and pleaded and he wanted to show them mercy, he really did. It would be so easy to just let them run and say he hadn't. No one was watching him, after all.

But it was too late to stop. He saw it in their eyes. They hated him, they would kill him and anyone who protected him, anyone he loved, and these attacks today had only cemented their hatred.

He knew that he was lost, and he knew that there was no going back.

He showed them every mercy they would show him, and though he took no lives, he drove them backwards, and slammed his powers into the building they fled back into, bringing the front of it down, trapping them with those more ruthless than himself.
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Quicksilver
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Superspeed/ Superstrength
He ran, even as the blood flowed and the rain streaked down his face and form, the white of his hair and on his suit darkening to red. What was going through his sister's mind, my god, what had they committed themselves to? Those monsters his father had gathered were probably enjoying this to no end, and maybe even Summers was caught up in this terror and mayhem, but Quicksilver, Pietro Django Maximoff, the oldest and only son of a noble people, whose power gave him the speed to outrace everything but his own self doubt, was running now to beat the devils within them all.

He saw no one in his run, though there were people on all sides of him, begging for help, mercy, calling for the deaths of the mutants who had done this, praying for deliverence from their evil (whose evil the Brotherhood or the FOH's?) But Pietro heard, saw, touched none. He was what Wanda had termed him, Mercury, the messenger of the Gods. He was herald to the end of the reign of bigots who would use their hate to infect the world, and the wind that whistled before him, the vacuum he left behind him cycled his warning to all he wove through.

The speed of his passing tore glass from the window frames of the buildings on either side of him, his pounding feet tore the asphalt of the road into impassible chunks, cars overturned in his wave, and trees were uprooted. He ran until the blood rain sliced into his flesh like needles.

He prayed this ended soon, that his part in this misery would end, so he could take his sister and erase the pain of her madness, to fall to his knees in front of her and beg her forgiveness for bringing her to this den of evil. Magento was their parent by birth perhaps but he had proven now that he was no father.

He was a murderer and he would damn them all.

But still he ran, still he obeyed, because this debt was to be repaid before he and Wanda could be free.
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Vibe
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JP with Vibe and Sabertooth.

Tactically, the role made sense -- the guards and individuals inside the Friends of Humanity headquarters were only half the story.

No doubt their assault would call the attention of authorities -- namely, the police, special response teams like SWAT, and possibly even the military.

So an intelligent tactician would have someone posted at the door -- preferrably, someone with the capabilities of a large-scale assault.

It was a good thing Mystique was more than an intelligent tactician.

The pairing was a bit odd -- the sound-manipulating mutant paired with a hulking, adamantium-laced cohort -- but Vibe was more than capable of producing a distanced assault, while Sabertooth would easily suffice as muscle.

But it was also a reason to keep Creed away from primary combat. His recent internal struggles with personal, mental demons were hard to keep secret.

For now, they needed control. And Sabertooth couldn't offer it.

It wasn't long before the activity in Stafford saw the response of the police -- sirens ablaze, as cruisers and armored SWAT vans screeched to a halt outside othe large building, with officers piling out and taking up position, guns drawn and at the ready.

That was their cue.

Really, Creed wasn't stupid -- he knew why he was here, relegated to the perimeter, and he really didn't blame him.

He just hoped, in all this, he was able to keep the true beast within him in check ... or else he'd be lost when it broke free.

Advancing from a nearby park, the unlikely pair strode down the street, both clad in long trenchcoats, with Trent taking the lead -- and they stood close to where the police were, looking on with feigned surprise.

One police officer, after guiding a SWAT team inside the building, caught the pair out of the corner of his eye -- and he walked over to them, shaking his head as if signalling to them that they shouldn't be anywhere near here.

"Sorry, guys, this location isn't safe," the policeman said, looking off to the side and pointing down one of the streets. "You're gonna have to leave the area until the situation's been dealt with."

Both Vibe and Sabertooth lifted their brows, with one looking to the other -- and they both looked back to the officer, Creed speaking up from the pair.

"Is that right?" The large mutant said, tone guttural and almost laden with a growl.

Another nod. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave. Sorry."

Looking up to his larger comrade, Vibe gave a conceding sideways nod, with Creed giving a short nod in reply. The pair began to turn away, leaving the scene.

Of course, it was all a ploy -- and Vibe was waiting for a distance of a few yards before spinning back around, unfurling his coat to reveal his custom-made combat suit.

A simple tug at the bill of his Decepticon hat, to sling it low and shade over his eyes -- and he held his arms out in front of him, targeted to the general direction of all the police officers and their stationary vehicles.

Even Creed was wise enough to take a half-step back, before an intense bass wave launched from the speakers in Vibe's custom-made suit, stemming from the palms of his carbon-fiber gauntlets and upper body cuirass -- and the larger mutant was cautious enough to hold his massive hands over his ears.

Rightly so, too. The sound was deafening, like a roaring, deep sonic-boom cutting through the neighborhood -- and it ripped through the police squads outside of the headquarters like a speeding freight train, tossing large trucks aside like toys and flinging armed lawmen like tiny rag dolls.

A glance passed down the street, to the distant echo of approaching sirens -- more were coming.

He was ready for them.

Out of the wreckage from the scattered forces just outside the building, a few sparse officers started to stir, rising to their feet -- but leaping into the midst of everything and perched on a wrecked car like a predatory cat crouched Sabertooth, emitting a dark, vicious growl, four large adamantium claws emerging from his hands.

They didn't even have time to react. Before they were even able to get up, the massive mutant pounced, drawing his claws into them -- and the intensity in his eyes seemed to be descending more and more into wild, unchecked, primitive instinct.

All the while, Vibe seemed to be having a bit of fun with all this -- and as he stood in the middle of the empty street with wrecked cars strewn about on either side, awaiting the approaching police forces, the distinct beginning riffs of The Who's 'Won't Be Fooled Again' could be heard on the air.

He smirked, arms outstretched at his side ... biding his time.

The music continued to play as the police pulled up, opening the doors to their cruisers and response vans, guns drawn -- and looking distinctly confused as the music filling the surrounding air, which seemed like it was increasing in volume -- and Vibe stood there, his eyes closed and arms rising at his sides, as if conducting the music.

His eyes shot open -- and in perfect synch.

The sound of Pete Townsend's distinct 'YEAAAAAHHHH' from the intro ripped open like a massive explosion, blowing back the cars and officers in a tattered heap. Windows all along the block shattered in a shower of glass shards from the sheer decibels.

What a way to go.

Back at the area around the headquarters, an officer tried to frantically flee -- but so struck the large predator, driving his adamantium claws into his back and snarling like a beast -- but Creed gave his head a shake.

He couldn't give in. He promised himself.

It wouldn't happen.

But some things weren't under his control -- and as Wanda's drizzle of blood began, the large mutant looked up to the sky, furrowing his brows.

Vibe seemed to almost sense what was coming, and wisely put away his cap, returning back to the perimeter outside of the Friends of Humanity headquarters as the blood rain began to fall.

He could sense something wasn't right about Creed -- the way he blinked back, fighting something in his mind at the sight of all that blood ...

A warning sign.

With another blink, the hue in Creed's eyes changed to amber, and he let out a roar -- and the first individual he set his sights on was the one right next to him.

Trent.

But the sound manipulator had his wits about him -- and before Creed could turn any focus on him, he let loose a high-frequency sound to fend off the larger mutant -- a warning sign that he should know his place.

Sabertooth let out a pained sort of braying roar, eyes clenched shut in slow agony as he lurched back -- and, with a shake of the head to ward off the pain, his eyes shifted back to their normal hue, a more relaxed expression on his features.

A pause, before looking to Trent.

" ... Thanks," Creed uttered -- and Vibe gave a nod back to him, before gesturing a sideways cock of the head to an area under a storefront canopy, to take some refuge from the deluge of blood.

Weird forecast, indeed.
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Alexander Bennett
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"You're more than welcome, Mr. Johannson. Please be sure to-" Alexander stopped mid-sentance, his level smile faltering just a tiny bit, shifting to something more sinister, more excited.

"I think, my friends, the time has come for a bit more excitment than a custody battle can gain. Please, proceed to your armaments. If you'd prefer to stay out of the fight, there's a safe route to the city just beind the hot water heater in the first level basement. I, however, must work on containment." Alexander stood, gave a pleasant nod to husband and wife, and pleasantly strode into the hallway. No rush, no fear- hell, he noted that a great deal of the lesser beings were dead; alright, he could manage that. They weren't the heavy hitters anyways. Those.. those were stored in the underbelly of the building- well, not so much stored as... housed.

"Clara, please alert the first wave that their task is upon them. No mercy." Each were equipped with a scanner- able to detect mutants. Of course, they all had various forms of weapons, and each were highly and advancely trained. He'd been more than ready, when the brotherhoood.. had not fully researched.

He was ready for them. While he wouldn't go wandering the halls freely, he hardly was afraid of the various near useless mutants bickering their way through the Friends of Humanity.


[Notes on attacks, fighting, and confrontations with Alexander]

Weapons:

~Mutant Field scanners: Scans a small radius for mutant signatures, and pinpoints locations.
~Neurological impulse Field: Gun that creates a 10 foot wave of brain-altering waves. Induce vomiting, discomfort, tiredness and confussion
~Electric charge emitter: Emits an electric charge that generates between .01 and .02 amps. getting hit by this can cause severe shock, Unconciousness, Or muscular paralysis

Beyond these especial devices, each operative is equipped with the usual arms and devices- flash gernades, hand held firearms, tazers. the riot squad has shields that have a thin but effective adamantium core.


please note: Since I can't keep up with each person rping with their various attackers, I'm going to leave it up to you guys. However, remember that this isn't supposed to be a full blown win, so if you all want to discuss what happens to who, feel free.

Facing Alexander: PM ME UNDER ALIX. Give me at least a bit of notice, and remember i have class during the day and am only available roughly after 7pm.
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Jara
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The fire fight below seemed to be dying down, no doubt one of the other Brotherhood members getting their fair share of fun. Not that Jara was left out.

She was quite a mess, really, black fur matted and soaked around her mouth and down her throat, sticky blood up to her elbows. She licked the back of her hand idly, savoring the absolutely delicious smells stirring up in the air, practically purring. Jara shifted once more, feeling more comfortable in her human height of 5'3". And with a booted foot, she kicked the door to the third floor open, greeted with a still hallway. She stalked on, feeling the muscles of her abdomen grow taught as a bruise welled beneath her skin, yielding another blade. She pulled it out without fuss, cat-like eyes drifting down the hallway... and pausing on the wall.

"I don't even work here, and I kept the place more tidy," she snickered to herself, dragging her blood-soaked fingers over the wall across what she thought was a scratch mark.. but that wiped away, the slight crack in the drywall filling with the strangely viscous liquid once more.

Was that...?

Without much thought, Jara brought her face closer to the suspicious leak, sniffing it tentatively. She quickly backed away.

"What the fuck is up with this Amityville horror shit?" she called out, the leak beginning to dribble as she finished speaking. Oh hell no. She crossed herself, which coming from Jara made it a blasphemous act. Something wasn't right, and she didn't need a God damned feline sixth sense to figure that one out. She felt something drop onto her shoulder, eliciting a paranoid snarl from Jara, then another one land on the bridge of her nose. Her head snapped up, watching ominous stains of red well across the ceiling tiles, saturate, and drip miniature cascades to the ground.

Now would have been a great time to call an exorcist. Instead, out darling Jara smiled, holding out her tongue as though she were catching snowflakes, closing her eyes in temporary bliss.

If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops, oh what a rain it would be...

Or more like a typhoon. She felt the drizzle increase on her face, her ears picking up on a distinct rumble of thunder outside, but she failed to draw the connection. And from the other end of the hall, a tidal wave of red came barreling through.

So there is such thing as too much of a good thing.

She had no time to run, and even if she did, it would have changed little. The wave crashed into her petite body and swept Jara off her feet, the current dragging her back to the stairwell and down, finally stopping as it slammed her into a wall. As the red waters rose, Jara swam to the surface, albeit a bit dizzily. It was like falling into a tank of LSD.

Some might have been scared out of their mind, afraid of blood, a fear of drowning. Jara spat and snarled because her feet couldn't reach the ground. Oh, it sucked being short.

It took her a moment to orient herself, paddling to the twin metal doors leading to God knows what floor, kicking them with a newfound ferocity until they finally opened, the crimson tide rushing towards the new space and equilibrium. It finally deposited Jara on the ground, soaked from head to toe in blood, still clutching her blade in a shaking fist. The smell was maddening, and her heart raced on its own accord, feeling a euphoric high.

She could have cared less what she looked like, rising from the ground in a crouched stance. And with perfect timing, who else would pop out of an office suite but her good friend Faith?

"Great. I got blood all over my Chanel Shoes. Someone is going to fucking die."

Indeed they were. But Jara was beyond one-liners. It took only that flash of movement, and the changeling rushed Fate head-on, the slippery floor undertoe doing nothing to slow her down.

"Freeze!"

And just as quickly Jara had set her sights on Fate, she darted past her, throwing a hard shoulder into the gut of the armored soldier that had manifested around the corner. He let out a grunt, swatting at Jara with the butt of his rifle. She dodged at the last moment, ducking to the side and swinging out with her knife for his throat. When he leaned back, Jara grinned, and with an unforgiving kick slammed her foot into his knee, leaving him scarcely any time to buckle before she took his helmeted face into her hands and leaned forward, biting savagely into his neck.

But the soldier had friends, as evidenced by the small metal canister that rolled innocently towards Jara's feet... and exploded in a burst of bright white light.

She screamed, tossing the soldier's twitching body in a fit of rage as she clutched her face with her hands, blinded, and an easy shot for the four other members of the FoH cronie. Their weapons hissed and crackled with electrical energy, while the blood-soaked woman spat and snarled, blinded and mad as hell about it. Alot of good that would do her.
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Fate
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of course. Leave it to Fate to end up near the damn crazed Jara. Although she had to admit it was funny to watch the feline come surfing in, if only for a second. In the next Second, However, Jara was rushing at her, ready to attack. Fate thought back to what she had said moments before. "I am soooo not getting mauled." she said to herself, preparing to tear into the changeling's mind, when, all of a sudden, Jara rushed passed her 'friend' and headed toward some crazy security dude. But there was something different about this one. He seemed more at ease, more... trained than the others she had encountered.

Didn't stop Jara from taking him out with little effort. Fate saw the flash grenade however, and was smart enough to shield her face with her hands, and turn away. Obviously jara didn't get the memo that flash grenade=BAD. Jara heard the hissing and yeowling, just like a cat. Fate turned the next instant to see his little friends show up. Now, She wasn't stupid enough to stick around. She turned on her heel and ran, taking refuge behind a desk. She entered their minds, her laughter echoing in their ears. ::I don't have to see you to attack you:: she thought, before firing telepathic blast after telepathic blast at the soldiers, dropping them like flies. She stood up and looked at Jara, still hissing, and being of no use to anyone. "I saved your ass, you owe me. I suggest not eating me is a good way to repay me." she thought, before turning on her heel, and heading down the stairs. Things were going to start to get bad, and she was not about to be caught in the heaviest of the fighting.

She moved down the stairs incredibly quickly for a woman in heels, not caring to pay attention to where she was going. Bad mistake, as she reached the second floor landing, a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her around the neck. She turned, but suddenly she couldn't breathe. One of the trained security bastards were strangling her. Bastard. She fired a telepathic blast at him, and his head snapped back before he crumpled to the floor. She opened the door that lead to the second floor offices, only to see a group of 9 security guys standing there with guns. Oh hell no. She turned and closed the door, and continued her descent. Fuck this. Mission accmplished on her part, no more destruction. She wasn't ready to die for a man who didn't even have the balls to show up here in the first place.

As the telepath made her way down, she ran into... of all things... A woman. She held a gun, and stood at least 6 feet tall. Definitely worthy of Chyna status. Before Fate had a chance to act, she was sent into a wall by a humongous back hand. Stars immediately burst in front of her eyes, and before she had a moment to react, she was being lifted and thrown. She tumbled down a set of stairs and hit the wall. She screamed out in pain, and tried to focus on the woman, but she had pulled some kind of device out of her hand. "SUCK ON THIS MUTIE!" Fate immediately enteret the woman's mind, and worked her magic, coufusing the hell out of her so tht she thought Fate was up, not down. She turned and ran down the stairs just as another burst of light hit the woman. She screamed and turned back down. Granted, she couldn't see Fate, but the blast seemed to have brought her back to her senses.

So here comes the neglected wrestling woman, stumbling down the stairs, swiping blindly at the telepath. Fate made it to the bottom floor, and pulled open the door, breaking into a full run, ignoring everyone else. As she came crashing out the door, she breathed in a sigh of fresh air, then blood began to hit her on the head. Stupid Scarlet witch. She turned and headed around the side of the building, crouching in a dark corner for a breather. After all, she needed it after this crap. Her mind wandered to Jara, and immediately she felt bad. Jara stil had quite a few floors to go. ::Jara if you can hear me, get your ass outta there!:: she thought desperately to the woman, before she sank into a crouch, and closed her eyes for a moment...
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Mystique
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With so few bullets to waste until Nox reached her with her bag of tricks, Mystique carefully chose her targets and picked them off one by one. The women cowering in the corner by the water cooler were of no concern at the moment; her attention was on the security guards clustered near the front entrance, all with their weapons un-holstered, nervously scanning the lobby for any sign of their attacker. By now the word had spread through their ranks, that most feared phrase uttered over and over again: the mutants are attacking.

Mystique crouched in a hallway just out of sight of the guards and studied their uniforms before shifting from her blue form into the appearance of a young brown-haired security guard, his looks remarkable simply because of the fact that they were so typical. No one would be able to describe his physical appearance to anyone later that day, and not just because no one would survive to do so.

She hurried over to the group, mimicking their skittish movements to a tee. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is goin’ on?” she asked, her voice a low tenor as she edged into the group, gun held in two hands and pointed at the floor, an amateur’s grip.

“It’s those mutants…those mutie freaks are attacking us, just like Bennett said they would!” one of the guards closest to her exclaimed. She ignored him as he continued to babble on, however, inching up behind one of the guards that wasn’t really paying as much attention as he should have, his gun held loosely in his hand by his side. Rookie. In a moment she was behind him and wrapped her arm around his neck, cutting off his air supply as she used her free hand to jerk his gun out of his grip. By the time his fellow guards heard his strangled breaths it was too late; using his body as a shield, Mystique raised the guard’s gun and fired in quick succession, each of her shots hitting their mark.

Within seconds she and the guard she held were the only two beings left alive in the lobby and she smirked slightly as he fumbled for his tazer, his movements slow and heavy from lack of oxygen. Now really, she could’ve done the merciful thing and shot him in the head, effectively ending his life and saving him several minutes of agony, but really, why would she want to do that? She tightened her arm around his neck and followed him to the floor as his knees buckled from beneath him, hiding her face against his shoulder as he began frantically beating his hands against her arm. Even when he finally went limp she didn’t let go, knowing from experience that there was always a chance the fucker might get back up.

Only when she was sure the guard was well and fully dead did she let go, straightening up just as that familiar Irish-accented voice reached her ears. She turned to face Noxious as he materialized in the lobby and slid her bag of weapons over to her, dropping his sniper rifle on top of it. At his words she merely smirked, returning to her normal appearance just as the next wave of defense entered the lobby, and by the look of it, these were more than just your run-of-the-mill security guard.

“Take care of that for me, would you?” she asked Nox casually and then nonchalantly slid behind the security desk for cover as he began to advance towards the team. She didn’t even seem to blink as gunfire erupted in the lobby, instead concentrating on readying her weapons. Her own personal handguns were reading and waiting in the bag, already holstered, and she strapped them to her hips. Next came a vest she’d had made for operations such as this made out of light Kevlar and containing all sorts of nifty pockets for the various ammunition she would use and she slipped it on, zipping it up. Nox’s gun went across her back, angled so that it would be easy to pull it around and fire in case she came up against anything that needed such a powerful weapon, like say…a tank.

When the gunfire tapered up she stood, adjusting her attire briefly as she looked to Nick. “See you on the outside,” she remarked, and pulled her last and most beloved weapon from the bag. It had started its life as a M4A1 sub-machine gun, but over the years had been modified so extensively that no name really fit it any more. It was one of a kind, and all the bugs had been worked out of it. While a normal M4 might become excessively hot if fired too much, Mystique’s gun could go all day and feel as cool as a cucumber to the touch. It would not jam, break, or mis-fire, and was perfect for close-combat situations such as this.

She took three steps towards the stairwell and halted as her boot splashed in blood that came up to her ankles. Drips began falling from the ceiling, splattering against her already blood-red hair and causing a scowl to appear on her features. She knew whose powers would do something like this, and she was going to have to have a talk with Pietro about keeping his crazy sister from doing something that interfered with their operation.

She continued on and had just left the lobby when Havok’s blast nearly leveled the front of the building, crushing anyone who had been trying to escape through that entrance. A cloud of dust billowed towards her and she casually stepped into the stairwell, shutting the door just as the wall of debris hit. Above her, she could hear dozens of pairs of feet heading down her way coupled with frantic shouts and screams. Ah, yet more cattle being led to slaughter. She charged up the first flight of stairs just as the group of office workers reached her, and fired point-blank range into the oncoming wave of humanity.

The screaming was cut off abruptly and she had to pick her way over the mangled corpses of the office workers, nearly slipping several times on the blood that coated the concrete stairs. Her hand was on the knob to the second floor door when it seemed to explode outwards and she stepped out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit, but that was the least of her problems. A squad of combat soldiers spilled out from the doorway, the first one driving his shoulder into her chest and slamming her back against the wall, holding her gun up against her throat.

Her lips curled into a snarl as she held the gun inches away from her throat, amber eyes narrowing dangerously. She reacted instinctively, bringing her elbow up and slamming it into the soldier’s face while simultaneously kneeing him firmly in the groin. He stumbled back and she had control of her gun again, leveling it as she squeezed the trigger. A spray of bullets erupted from the muzzle of the gun, tearing through skin, muscle, tissue, and bone as they ripped into the team.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw another guard raise a strange looking weapon at her and wheeled around, bullets tearing through his torso just a second after he managed to get off one shot from the weapon. The wave hit her without warning and suddenly up was down and down was up, the whole world spinning precariously around her. She dropped to her knees and retched, and it took her a few moments to shake off the effects of the weapon. Her mind felt sluggish as she pulled herself to her feet again but she shook of the lethargy, stalking over to the soldier and ripping the weapon from his hand. She studied it for a brief second and figured out the controls before making her way into the second floor corridor, firing haphazardly as she went, taking out any humans that hadn’t managed to make it out of the building yet.

And where was Alexander Bennett in all of this? No doubt the great leader was cowering in his office clutching a teddy bear, leaving his pathetic little minions to do his dirty work. Coward.

With a weapon in each hand Mystique continued to make her way through the building like the efficient, heartless assassin she was, and as she came into the main area of the second floor she froze. This area was completely free of any human civilians, and it was entirely too quiet…the back-up generators had finally kicked in and the lights overhead flickered dimly. From the other end of the hallway she could hear the faint buzz of the elevator shaft and she quietly moved to peer around the corner, hearing a quiet ‘ding’ as the elevator arrived on the second floor.

And then all hell broke loose.

She had maybe half a second to see the next squad spill out of the large elevator before a grenade went whizzing over her head, landing somewhere against the back wall behind a cluster of desks. Without thinking she hit the floor, covering her head with her hands and tucking herself against the wall as the grenade exploded and sent shards of wood and debris everywhere. She was covered in rubble and bits of furniture and quickly backpedaled into the next hallway as the squad burst into the main area, guns blazing.

Glancing over her shoulder she realized she had backed herself into a corner. Fuck. The wave she’d been hit with earlier had disoriented her enough so that she’d somehow gotten turned around. She was pinned down without an exit, and she was not happy about it in the slightest. She could hear the soldiers as they made their way through the wreckage, their boots crunching over pieces of wreckage, and she fired blindly around the corner, listening intently as she heard at least one body hit the floor. Well, that was an improvement. Now it was only nine against one, instead of ten. She’d dealt with worse odds, and she would deal with these just the same.

She pulled herself into a crouching position against the wall, inching closer to the corner. “We’ve got you trapped, mutant!” came a voice from the room. “Throw out your weapons and we’ll show you mercy.” Mystique smirked from herself and shook her head slightly, remaining silent. There was no way in hell she was going to fall for that. If she went down, she was taking this whole goddamn building down with her. She counted slowly to three before discharging the scrambler weapon around the corner and was rewarded with the sounds of vomiting. How lovely. She took the opportunity that was presented, however, and emptied the clip of the machine gun in one final burst, taking out anyone who happened to be doubled over in nausea without cover.

Quickly, she poked her head around the corner and managed to make another head count before the shooting recommenced and she leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for a lull in gunfire. Three down, seven to go. Great, at this rate she was going to miss out on all the fun upstairs. Where’s backup when you need it?
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Havok
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Superheated Plasma Blasts
The gunshots didn't phase Havok, nor did the explosions. He was so beyond feeling anything but the hate and the overwhelming violence. He was trying to control himself, trying to keep his promise to Wanda that he wouldn't kill anyone, but the fact that they were trying to kill him took away any mercy he felt. He blasted his way forward, slamming through the FOH base like it was made of paper. He left boiling bloody footsteps behind that still cooked in his wake.

His heat rose, and where his rings of power exploded against anything flammable, it went up in smoke. Flames began to spread through the building, and anything that wasn't soaked with blood began to smoulder.

"Freeze, y-you freak." said a guard, a rent a cop no older than ninteen, emerging from the rubble, a gun held in his trembling hands.

"Who's the freak?" he growled, "We just want the right to live. You brought this on yourself. You're the freaks. You're the monsters." He raised a fist, crackling with white hot light.

"We hurt no one!" the Guard gasped, "We... this was just a social organization, public pr-protests. You and your kind... you d-d-do all this. H-how are we supposed to react?"

Havok pressed his fist up against the man's chest, the barrel of the shaking gun aiming somewhere around Havok's elbow apparantly, the terrified guard was so close to pissing his pants. "We wouldn't have to do this if you people didn't threaten our lives."

"But... we... don't..." the guard moaned.

"Yes, yes you do." Havok said, "You maybe didn't see it, but the people you were working for... they are the monsters." He lifted his fist from the man's chest and raised it so he was aiming above the guard's head. "You run, and you remember that a mutant, a freak let you live today."

The guard dropped his gun and ran. He was just a kid, after all, and maybe he truly believed what he thought this place was.

“We’ve got you trapped, mutant!” came a voice from the room. “Throw out your weapons and we’ll show you mercy.”

Havok crept forward, looking around a corner to see a group of FOH soldiers suddenly mowed down by machine gun fire. Who did they have trapped in there? Obviously one of the Brotherhood. He stepped into the hall way and shouted, "Whoever's back there?! Take cover!" Then thrusting his fists forwards, he unleashed wave after wave of white hot plasma!
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Noxious
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To say the experience was surreal was only the tip of the iceberg.

There was Nox, heading down the hall and performing his part of the mission with aplomb -- to seek out Alexander Bennett and bring him back to Mystique incapacitated, but viable and alive -- and, out of nowhere, the air about him turns the hue of red.

Blood. Everywhere.

The ability to slip into a gaseous state was never so convenient -- keeping him away from the torrent of blood that rushed through the halls and out the windows, while also keeping his threads clean.

A man's got to look good doing his job, after all.

The result of Wanda's attack made for a very eerie aftermath setting -- an empty, unlit hallway, halls stained red and still dripping with that heavy, metallic smell, with the warm moisture hanging in a stiff, stifling humidity. The structure of the building itself threatened to buckle, with low creaks and groans coursing through the structure.

And then, a point of light -- dim emergency lighting, from the opening doors of the utility elevator at the far end of the second floor hallway -- and a beam of light looked down through the hall.

Empty.

Or so it seemed.

Two of Bennett's elite-armed guards peered past the doors, looking through their mutant field scanners -- and with the slow step of their militia-grade boots, they stepped into the hall with sub-machine guns drawn, glancing between the lay of the forboding hall in front of them and the scanners, the slight crackle and hiss of a two-way radio transmission passing from their earpieces.

"I got a reading," One said to the other, holding up his hand to halt his teammate's stride down the hall -- but with his eyes affixed to the scanner, he lowered his brows in frustration and shook his head.

"This thing's got to be busted. The reading's everywhere, and it's ... erratic." He looked up to the other armed guard a few steps ahead, who kept a steady gaze back at his teammate from over his shoulder.

" ... It doesn't make any sense."

The building made a low, prolonged groan from one of its strained supports -- and the other guard stood by his partner, glancing at the scanner with the same look of confusion.

"A lot o' things don't," A deep, gruff voice sounded out from nowhere, echoing through the hall -- and the pair of guards looked around in fear, guns drawn, aiming generally up at the ceiling.

"Who's there?!" One of the guards shouted out. "Show yourself! We know you're here, and we know you're behind this!"

The scanner's reading started to go a bit haywire, reacting as if the mutant was right behind them -- but there was nobody.

At least, nobody they could see from the poorly-lit hall.

A low, raspy laugh.

"I'm behind this, now?" The voice taunted back. "I'm flattered, really, lads."

The pair of guards began to back away -- and as they did, their retreating gait backed them right up into Noxious, who stood there with a mild, devious smirk on his rugged features, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. With one guard bumping into him, he looked around -- and his face went white as a sheet at the sight of the Irish mutant.

"JESUS!" The guard called out, firing errant shots back at Nox, eyes closed -- but as he staggered back from the gun's short recoil, he looked again ... and there was no one there.

Just behind them, though ... Nox rematerialized, and silently drew out his folding knife -- standing in wait as the other guard began to step away from the sight unfolding before him.

"He was ... right there," the guard uttered, letting out a heavy breath drawn with panic -- and the tense, creepy atmosphere of the hall didn't help any.

The strike was swift -- a motion in, and Nox jammed his adamantium knife right into the guard's side, drawing a yell of pain. His partner, turning on his heels and thinking quickly, fired at Nox -- only to peg nothing but air.

In pain, the other guard dropped to his knees, holding his side, as blood pooled along his armor, joining the mess already coating the halls -- and his breaths were strained in panic and agony, as his partner did his best to patch up the wound.

"You hold on there, Ted, okay?" The guard said to his wounded friend, trying to egg him on -- but then, the scent of cigarette smoke.

And stepping out of the shadows was Nox, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, looking on the pair with feigned concern, as if just coming across the injured individual.

"That looks serious," he uttered, giving a sick sort of smirk. "Ye may wan' tae get that looked at before it gets infected, nae?"

The other guard's brows lowered in rage -- and he grit his teeth before shouting at the mutant.

"You sick sonovabitch!" He yelled, reaching to the electric charge emitter strapped to his back, pointing it at Nox and letting it begin to charge to full capacity. "You're gonna fry for that, you mutie bastard!"

With Oscar-worthy poise, Nox's brows lifted, hands up as if not trying to incur this guard's wrath -- and he looked to the gun in trumped-up fear, before glancing to the gunman.

"Ye don' want tae do that," Nox muttered -- and it sounded more like advice.

But did the guard listen? No, he didn't -- he only smirked, eager for revenge to jolt this mutant back into the stone age.

So carried away, that he didn't notice the fact that, in the dim light, Nox's composition shifted to a copper-line center, with the same copper material extending along the floor -- and underneath both guards.

"I'll see you in HELL!" The guard shouted out, before letting the electric charge emitter blast Nox with everything it had -- but, by the time his injured partner spotted Nox's cool smirk and the different sheen on the floor, it was too late.

A grounded circuit right into the floor -- and into the copper underneath them, only passing the force of the blast right back to them.

The pair began to spasm and twitch from the voltage, before dropping to the floor -- incapacitated, by their own hands.

Shifting back entirely to flesh and bone, Nox took a step over to the guards, giving a smirk and crouching down beside them -- and patting the cheek of the unconcious gunman.

"Ye first," he uttered back -- and he effortlessly nabbed the card key from the guard, rising to his feet and walking over to the utility elevator, using his newfound access to open the door.

A devious smirk, as he stood within the elevator car, the doors closing.

One step closer to Bennett.
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